Back at the hotel, he gathered his stuff. He needed to go to where it all began. He needed to walk the streets he walked with her. No, no he couldn't. He stopped. His heart rate elevated. Shit. He needed to go back there. For two years he had pushed back against every part of him that screamed at him to take a look. To make sure she was a safe as they said. The pictures showed her life. Her rebuilding. His love living. Both of them. His breathing started to stagger. He tried to remember how to breath. How to focus. How to let the animal take over and leave him empty. The way he did when they tried to break him. They knew what they were doing. This was why they were doing it. Making sure he was the one to take her down. Dangling him so close to the life he could never touch. He let anger settle over him again. Let it seep into his muscles, his head and last his heart. He needed his black soul that lay inside him to take over. To give him this reprieve. He settled into it. The darkness. Let it veil over him.

He put his coat on. The coat that had seen so much blood. The dry cleaners had done a great job but the scent of blood will always cling to this. The traces so fine, but there non the less. He slung the bag over his shoulder and headed down the stairs. With a final nod to the administrator he was out the door. He hoped the vomit would be the worst this hotel would see. The usual driver was waiting outside. “Will I ever learn your name?” the damn driver just stared forward. No answer. He vaguely wondered what dog would do as such. Maybe a Dobermann? He climbed in the familiar surroundings. After a beat the car was moving. He didn't want sleep. He needed to research. Pulling out his laptop he set to work searching for the girl. It shouldn't be to difficult. A small place like Sadler's where everyone knows everyone's business. It would be in the police reports if she went missing, or if she had shown up with bruises and wilts.

Searching the headlines should have brought up something if she was heading home. Maybe they were giving her less credit than they thought. “Oi, pull over will you? I'm not so sure she went straight home.” he needed cameras. He needed to follow her as she left the compound. “Head to the office. I need to check some things out.” The driver nodded and they were on their way.

He wondered how much of the weak female was for show and how much it was just buying time. His instincts told him the latter. She was going to make them pay. She was going to make a difference in her defiance. He pulled out his phone and dialled the office. “Creed,” was all Celine said in way of greeting.

“I'm going to need CCTV of how she left and how she got out.” He needed to see what door she left out of.

“That isn't possible.”

“Why?” His brows furrowed.

“The cameras were... out of use.” She seemed unsure of her answer. What was she hiding?

“She tampered with them didn't she?”

No answer. A smile teased his lips. A dangerous but pride smile. This girl had guts. “Very well. How long was she at the compound and in his... company?”

“Creed... I'm not sure I'm meant to be answering these.”

“Why? Is this a test?” This was going to be a long week. The call went dead.

There were two avenues that this could go down. Maybe three if he was unlucky. This was an inside job by the new “King” who he was yet to meet; she was undercover from another suit, or this was a test. They wanted him back in Sadler. They wanted to see if he would crack. Fine, Sadler he would go. He would go and find out who this damn woman was that killed the King.

It was late. Nearly closing time. The loose lipped punters would be the only saving grace. He had looked for any missing person signs, went to the police station to see if they had heard anything and now he was standing outside the bar where it all began. Taking a deep breath and letting the animal take over he stepped in. “Whisky, on the rocks please.” Well, he needed to fit in somehow. There was only about ten people left in the whole establishment. It wasn't a big place. Dark wood almost on every furnishing. The old back seats a horrid green, stained with many a spilt drink. The floor a sticky dark wood to match the furnishings. The stale ale smell lingering in his nose. It wasn't much to anyone really, but to him, it was like stepping into a memory. A haze that he tried to keep at bay. He didn't want to feel. He didn't want to remember. He tried not to look too hard at the corner where he would watch the footy on the small screen. Or the pool table that he would often commiserate over. He was shocking at the game and his mates knew it. Often placing bets on just how bad he would take the shot. He had potted the black before then end way too many times to mention. His whisky glass was empty.

“Another one please.” The bar tender merely nodded before he poured. Taking the glass, he decided to head to the most sober person he could see. The older man was sat playing solitaire on a small table. A pint resting on a beer mat. “Good evening sir,” he spoke. He needed to be polite but to the point. He couldn't be noticed.

“Hello young man, fancy a game of rummy?” The old man was more sober than he thought, judging by his clear words. Maybe he just needed a shave and a shower.

“Maybe another time. My misses ran out on me and I'm seeing if I can find her. Ive not herd from her in a while or of her and just want to set my mind at rest. In this small town, I thought I might run into her.” He hated every word that came out of his mouth. It was so easy to lie now. So easy to pretend he was someone else.

“You wont find her in the bottom of that glass boy.” Indeed, he was right.

“Have you seen her non the less? She's yay high, dark skin, dark hair, brown eyes?”

“Have you not got a picture of her? All you youngsters take pictures of everything.” Again, he was right.

“I foolishly deleted them. I was a fool and I want to make sure she is at least safe.” The man sighed. He had stories to tell. Knowledge for the ages. Creed knew that, but he didn't have time. Yes it was only day one, but time was of the essence. Little did he know how he would actually be able to kill her. He would think of that later. Animal, remember. Hunter. For them.

“A woman came in yesterday matching your lady friend. She seemed... off though. Desperate. Said she was looking for someone called Creed. Poor thing was covered in bruises. I hope you didn't do them young man.” The man looked right into him. Accusation burning on his tongue. Right into his soul. Blue vibrant cold eyes. He was stone cold sober. It was then that Creed realised what he had missed. All the punters glasses were full. Not one empty glass anywhere. Shit. Looking towards the door he entered in the bar man was already there. His arms crossed. He was blocked in. He was stuck with them. Eleven including the barman. They were stuck with him. The new arrangement hadn't mentioned anything about keeping this job clean. But here? All these memories. This old man full of stories? Maybe he could be careful. Maybe.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

His dark shadows curled in the pit of his stomach. Curling with trepidation. The animal wanted blood. Excelled in it. The day they showed them that picture was the day this darkness came. The dull ache for blood. That never mattered, no matter how much he tried to control, tried to handle. It always won. That anger that pierced him so easily, that shrouded his judgment for pulling back his punches. Gone with a lick of the wind.

And so he stood up. Drained his drink and setted into the darkness. Cracking his neck he embraced the shadows. He herd the first step behind him, before the guy had a chance to bring his arm up, the empty glass in Creeds hand was smashed onto his face. Right on his nose. One down. Another came up next to him, he blocked his assault and booted him in the stomach, the guy stumbled back as someone grabbed Creed from behind and started to pull him back. But he was faster, he hauled the assailant over his head and on to the floor on his back, winding him before he stood on his face with his fuck off boots. A crack. He was dead. The smell of blood filled the air and made Creed shake. This was what he didn't want to be, but it made him feel so alive. Before he could think the next guy was on him. He punched him in the face once, twice. He was down. A quick glance, he was still breathing.

“You fucking killed him.” The old man's gruff voice stated. The others seemed to be thinking twice now. But why hadn't they drank the drinks. Were they waiting for him?

“Where is she?” His voice was ice cold in his mouth. The words were from the hunter.

“And why the hell should I tell you a damn thing?” He was of no use then. He tried, he tried to pull back the punch. His eyes blurred. Down he fell. Dead.

“Who the fuck are you?” The bartender was full of rage. He could feel it. All of them. The rage, the hurt. He could see it as clear as the fucking sky. That fucking sky! That was it. He got out his gun and with a few shots they were all down.

“The names Creed, nice to meet you.” He spoke to the dead. The animal inside bowed to the glory. Bathed in the blood that meant he had saved them. Saved his family once more. He had finished them all. They couldn't know who he was. Not if the girl had come looking for him. They already knew too much.

He searched the pub. There had to be cameras here. He headed upstairs to a little office. It had about as much organisation as a land fill. Smelt like it too, but he set to work. The idiots didn't even have a password. Looking through the CCTV over the last few days. It had only been what? Three days since he went to the kind with the body. Maybe even two. Geeze, he needed to pay more attention. Running through them at high speed he waited for any woman to walk in. It was mainly the same people that were dead down stairs.

Hours went by while he scrutinised the tapes. Then a flicker of hair stopped him in his tracks. There she was. Not Angelina... no. But her. His love. Staring right at the camera. Right at him. All the wind nocked out from his chest. He couldn't breath. Her blond hair cascading around her face. He face full of knowing. So smart and ready to shout at him for not taking the damn bin out. There, staring right at him. He couldn't look away. He was lost in her eyes. An ocean right there. How many days had he wasted in the last two years waiting to see her. Hoping for just a glimpse of her.

It was surely just coincidence. This was a local stomping ground for them both in the early days. He kept the tape rolling, watching every move she made. She went over the the solitaire man and spoke. The tape was only visual but those lips. He would die a thousand deaths if he was allowed to hear that voice just one more time. Not in the nightmares he had every night, but in front of him. Jotting down the time frame of when she was there he pocketed it like a lifeline. He would be taking this particular part away with him. They wouldn't know.

Watching with eagerness, it wasn't long until Angelina was there. Watching it all unfold before him, his love enveloped her into a hug. What the fuck was going on? Angelina was shaking. Visually speaking on and on about something very important, and then with one last look from both of them to the camera, they were gone.

Either this was a trap, or he was being reached out to in the only way that might actually be safe. It was all fucked up no matter which one it was? This wasn't a hunt for Angelina. This was a hunt for her. He couldnt bring himself to think of her name. He had pushed it that far down. A way to keep her safe. Them safe, but now the two worlds were clashing. The darkness stirred again. Letting out a growl through his teeth, he was seething. What the fuck were they playing at? He was angry at them both. At the world. At himself.

He should walk away. He should shut it out, go running back like the dog he was. The same bit of the tape was playing... her ocean eyes. He was fucked. They all were, and it was going to rain blood if one hair on her head was harmed. The darkness pooled for action. It was already poised to strike at the thought. Saving the recording onto a flash drive he pocketed it and left the room. Leaving the tape playing.

He stormed out the bar, the damn car waiting. “Go away. Ill sort myself out.” The driver nodded his head and got into the car. He had done this before. But he couldn't help the feeling that this was too, some sort of test. He needed to think. His partner... ex partner... whatever she was, was caught up in this damn mess and he needed to kill someone she was close with. But where was his daughter? It was late. Early if you thought too deep about it. He looked up. Clear enough, the stars winked back. The darkness echoing for eternity but those stars, they lit up the way. He let his boots decide where to go. Blood still lingering on the bottom.

He had stumbled home too many times to count. His feet knowing the route better than his mind did these days. He was sorting through everything when he eventually looked up. There he was. Like nothing had changed. Right in front of his old home. Was she even living here now? Was he even welcome? He didn't give himself time to think or reconsider. He knocked. Only once. He allowed himself that privilege. Their lived on the precipice. Would he drown?

Several locks unlashed, one after the other before the door creaked open. The scent of heat, home and her wafted in like an avalanche. He though he was prepared. He fell to his knees. She stood there. He was fucked. She was fucked. What had he done? “Creed get in this door now before your spotted.” She made no move towards him. She gave nothing away. But he managed to stand. His legs shaking. She had spoken his name. He tried to remember how to breath. Two years. Two years of hell had been worth it to hear his name on her lips again. He walked in. It was a death sentence but he would take it.

Her arms flung around him before the door had closed. Her scent hitting him again. More concentrated. Lavender, ylang-ylang and palmer violets. Intoxicating. He would bring the world to dust if it meant keeping hold of her like this. He didn't want to let go. He couldn't. All of the questions, all the anger left him winded. He couldn't think of the words. Where to start? She lent back and focused on him. Those ocean eyes the pivoting point of his whole world. “We don't have much time Creed. This is big. We are taking it all down.” His mind tried to focus. He tried to hear the words she spoke but he couldn't bring himself to heel. He was unravelling piece by piece. Every death that he took to keep her safe. All the weeks of torture and training to keep her safe. What was it all for? It wasn't suppose to be like this. She was meant to move on. Have a new life. That's what the pictures showed. The darkness reared its head. No. She was alive. She was there in front of him and it was heart breaking. His hands turned into fists. It was wrong. All wrong. Where was the baby? His baby?

She was waffling about it all. He got the basic gist of it. She had a plan. A plan to take down the Kings. All of them. It was stupid. How could she? Where was the baby? He was trying to grasp anything that might answer the flooding questions that swarmed his head. His knees were faltering. His hands tightening still. He could feel his nails breaking the skin. More spilled blood. He needed to walk out. Walk away from her so she didn't get hurt. But he was stuck. If he tried to move he would fall. Falter into her arms. His throat prickled. He couldn't even say her name to get her to stop. To stop with the nonsense.

He tested it in his head. Willed his mouth to move. Where was the baby? “Where is she?” His voice was strained. He couldn't breath.

“Who?” His loves eyes went blank as soon as she spoke. A sign of realisation. “Creed... I lost her. The stress... I think?” Her expression was empty. She had nothing to give on this matter. He would kill them all. Let the world burn.

“Ill kill them.” He was out the door before she said another word.