𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐘 (+𝟏𝟖)

CH. 7: FINAL FEAST

H U N T E R

There's a saying that all good things come in threes.

To self-proclaimed alpha males, it was sex, money, and power. For Christians, it was the Holy Trinity; the divine triad of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Three wishes, three chances, three strikes— people obsess over triads. As if it were their pathetic way of finding order in chaos, having a false sense of control in a world that spun on the axis of unpredictability.

For me, the concept was utterly meaningless.

I don't believe in luck, nor do I cling to arbitrary patterns. I didn't wait for the universe to align in sets of three to bring me what I desired. If I wanted something, I simply took it without question.

The truth is, good things only come to those who know how to take them. To those who are calculative and possess the patience and intelligence to do so. The irony is, most people lacked those three things.

I had only desired two things; power and retribution.

Power came easily to me. The Sionis family name had been etched into Happy Harbor's elite history for nearly a century, and I was the sole owner of the most prestigious architecture firm in the country. So much so, that Forbes hailed me as the second-richest American entrepreneur, under Zuckerberg.

Retribution was exacted through my part-time job as a janitor, cleansing the world of subhuman filth.

Rubbing out human shit stains like the senator and Wesley Callahan who masqueraded as good fathers, husbands, philanthropists, and role models for young boys when they were abusers, rapists, and pedophiles when I ripped the fucking masks off.

But the universe threw in a third variable in my equation— Mallory. A girl who piqued my curiosity, an anomaly who derailed my thought patterns, and the girl who I'd become manically obsessed with.

I've watched her for weeks, left her gifts, and had my men surveillance her and report back to me when I was busy working. I had her phone bugged a couple weeks ago, so I always knew where she was.

On weekdays, she worked mornings from 6 to 11 a.m. at Sizzlin' Shakes before returning for her night shift.

Most of her free time was either spent at the local library for schoolwork and checking out books or at home reading novels with a Pop-tart in her mouth. Friday nights and weekends were reserved for going out with her best friend and coworker, Celina Munoz.

Today, I decided to pay my pretty little bambi a visit at her job before following her home tonight. I wasn't exactly discreet, nor was I making an effort to be. I was simply bored and wanted to mess with her.

Only I didn't anticipate that she'd be assaulted and nearly raped by two filthy pieces of shit in an alley; an error I rectified and didn't intend to repeat.

She was currently hospitalized at St. Nico Hospital with a concussion. I plan to visit her soon but tonight I had a dinner date with a very special someone.

Sipping on my wine, I gaze across the long dining table at my unconscious guest of honor. He looks pathetic; bound to the chair in nylon rope, chained to the table with matching black eyes, busted lip, broken nose, and my ring indents marring his stupid face.

I carved out his friend's throat two hours ago in a fit of blind rage, but I kept him alive because he was the one who touched and defiled what was mine. I had beaten the shit out of him, stopping short of killing him before tossing his scrawny ass into my trunk and calling the police and an ambulance for Mallory.