“Tell me,” I snarl, leaning into his face, his shirt bunched in my fist.
“I don’t know!” he cries, his squat red face panicked. His bloodshot eyes, red from the alcohol, dart around the empty alley, searching for help. I can still hear the music of the club behind us where I dragged him from.
“You do, you know where he is, so tell me,” I demand.
“Why? Why do you want to know?” he cries like a pussy.
“Don’t you know yet? I’m the Face Changer, the Hunter…and Sinclair killed four innocent humans,” I whisper, and his eyes widen at my monikers as he stops struggling, knowing he will die here. “It’s bad for our races, for our people. I should know, I’ve been hunting monsters like him for years.”
Ever since…well, ever since. The council is growing weaker and losing respect as they sit in their mansions, hoarding power and money. I was tired of watching the havoc wreaked on this world by our people, so I started doing the one thing I promised I wouldn’t do ever again—killing. My soul is already black, there is no saving me, so what’s a few more deaths on my conscience?
They die and innocents survive, and no one is any wiser that a god walks amongst them, changing his face to fit in, to blend on his hunts, to rid this world of evil. Evil like me.
“I heard you were looking for me,” comes a distinct Scottish accent from the alley. Turning my head, I see the man from the video, the one who drained four humans dry after torturing and raping them. Then he left their bodies to rot.
“Sinclair. How nice of you to join us,” I mutter, and without a pause, I snap the neck of his lackey and drop him to the cement like the rat food he is. “Shall we?”
“I have to ask, are you from the council? The person they sent to kill me?” He cocks his head to the side, his dark hair falling over one of his red eyes. Behind him are two other men, both vamps. I can smell them from here and almost see the stolen blood racing through their veins. I don’t have anything against vamps, fuck, my brother is one, but his children…shit, they have grown weak.
Without morals.
Bottom feeders.
But so have a lot of monsters. They have spent too long hiding in the dark, and no one implements rules anymore. It leaves a power vacuum among the lower classes, and killers and users like Sinclair are all too happy to pick up the slack and name themselves king.
Well, tonight, this king will fall.
“No,” I reply, stepping closer.
“Shame, I heard their hunter was something to look at.” He grins. “Fine, so you’re some vigilante wanting to save the world.” He rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter, you will still die here. This is my city, after all.”
“You’re wrong.” I grin, the stolen face I’m currently wearing bunching with it. “This is my city, it’s my fucking world, and you parasites are feeding on that. No longer. You die tonight, and your blood will run across the streets you ruined.”
Done talking, I move. They expected me to be slower, weaker, because they don’t know what I really am. Nobody does. They simply refer to me as the Hunter, the one who moves in the dark, never to be seen again. His face is always different, masks, they think—if only they knew the truth.
I will do this until the day someone finally kills me. I will make this world a better place than the one I was born into. Not for me or even my long-lost family. But for her. My mate. The one I saw all those years ago…the one I walked away from.
To save her from me.
Now, I spill blood in her name. Every one of the monsters I kill is one less for her to have to deal with. One less that could hurt her. One day, I will earn my penance for my past, but I will never earn her.
I’m behind them before they even see me coming. I rip out the hearts of the two men with him at the same time and toss them to the ground, ready to be burnt. Then I turn to Sinclair as he snarls, his fangs flashing as he tries to charge me. He rushed right onto my blade, which pierces his heart. Dragging him closer, I grind it