Escape:Target D916 Book 2 |✓|

Chapter 1

With the phone held to his ear, he listened carefully to the instructions of the man who gave them, also known as his boss or one of many.

"Woman and children, execute with prejudice" The manly tone had spoken, instantly the words had become an instinct for Draven, the instinct to obey immediately.

Draven moved his feet one at a time until his face and his body faced the beaten, bloody man who cried continuously. His voice had been muffled by the rope binding his mouth but Draven knew what the man had been saying. He had been begging Draven for the last hour. Draven would have thought he would be exhausted by now, but he continued, determined for his family to have mercy bestowed upon them.

What he hadn't realized was, it didn't matter how much he begged. He could have begged until his lips fell off and his voice box damaged and still, Draven would pay no heed to them.

Draven stared at the man. He always found average humans intriguing. They had known they were to die and yet still they begged. It was pretty pathetic even to Draven, but it didn't matter what they were, how they felt or even what they did to be put in the situation. He was given orders and he would follow them.

With a firm nod to no one in the room, but the man on the phone, he slid it inside his back pocket.

He hadn't acted yet, he needed clear instructions, clear orders before he did something he couldn't possibly reverse. Which was exactly everything in the world.

Naturally, his eyes blinked and in one swift he saw the tied man and the next he began to see codes appearing. They had been in a code he was familiar with. A pingpen code or cipher. It wasn't a code that produced letters but symbols. Being trained to decrypt many different types of codes and ciphers, decoding had become a primal instinct.

It took him just a few seconds to decode it which read four names.
Beatrice J Howard, Fara L Howard, Macie R Howard, and Abigail O Howard, the mother.

They were his objectives, his targets the ones soon to die. They would die without hesitance, a thought or a spark of humanity.

Having his targets, he sauntered the hallway hearing the husband yell a sense of helpless misery; translation he begged for the ominous things Draven were to do to his family. The yell had been a lick of pleasurable flame to Draven's ears, maybe he would have stopped if the man were to beg him to continue.

Something about giving in to his desires, which wouldn't have appeased his boss and so he kept his path until he pushed the door to the room open.

The new sight hadn't fazed him, he felt the same as he did when he first laid eyes on the women. Though, he wondered how they felt, what roamed the children's minds when they saw their naked mother bound to a bed with cuffs and ropes on her ankles. Now he hadn't done that, the husband had. He found them before they could incite further into their activity.

Draven though snatched the children on their way home, they only sat bound with ropes to a chair with tape over their mouths. He had done that though, and done so nonchalantly. Even as their tears strolled their faces, their cheeks reddening as they bawled. Though they had attempted to fight him, they held the strength of an infant. It hadn't been a challenge.

As the mother's eyes locked onto his frame appearing in the doorway, her head shook uncontrollably, her eyelashes sticking to her red cheeks. He would have chuckled by her attempt to protest as if she could mentally reach, protect her children from his menace.

In Draven's eyes, they had only been targets, objectives that were soon to be disposed of.

Calmly, he turned around, grabbing the jug of gasoline off the hallway floor and once the mother had seen it, she screamed only that it was muffled by the sock. As if it were a normal task in daily life, he strolled next to the mother, dumping the liquid that burned his nose over her body and for a moment he began to appreciate it as it made her skin glisten.