Anonymous(59)

“What the fuck?” he spat, reeking of beer.

Squeezing his neck, I bashed him against the tree, his eyes growing wide in terror. “Feel like a man now?” I growled. “It’s not so fun when you’re helpless, is it?”

He gasped for air. “She . . . wanted . . . it.”

Teeth clenched, I squeezed harder. “You’re a pathetic son of a bitch. Let me guess, she wanted it as badly as you want this.” I dropped him down, long enough to grab his chin and the back of his head. Snapping his neck, I watched him collapse lifeless to the ground.

The moment stilled my breath. I hadn’t known what it would feel like to kill someone, to know it was me who took their life. Out of all the emotions I could have guessed I’d experience, pure elation wouldn’t have been one of them. The high that buzzed through my body felt like nothing I’d ever experienced before. There was no remorse, no guilt for what I’d done. He deserved to die, like the countless other men out there who preyed on innocent women.

The girl’s whimpers brought me back. With my hood over my head, I turned to face her. Knowing I was backlit by the moon, she couldn’t see my face through her tears and the dark. Her shirt was torn and she scrambled to lower her skirt.

“You’re safe now,” I said, helping her up by the hand. Her whole body shook and she fell into my arms, her cries echoing in my ear. I had to get away. “You need to get help. Run to the apartments and call 911. Now!”

I let her go and she took off out of the woods toward the apartments, while I raced back to mine. There was only one thing I could do. Once I was in my apartment, I grabbed the phone out of my pocket and found my father’s number. He picked up by the end of the first ring.

“What’s wrong, son?”

I leaned against the door, knowing my life was about to get exponentially more fucked up. “I’m ready. Just tell me what I have to do.”





Preston





(Eight Years Later)





“Summer’s coming. It’s getting warmer every day,” Linda said, setting down my plate of eggs and bacon. She was in her late sixties, with short, white hair. I don’t think there was ever a morning where she didn’t wear something pink.

I took a sip of my coffee. “That it is. Luckily, I don’t plan on staying in town for much longer.” For the past two months, I’d eaten breakfast at her and her husband’s diner every morning. Boston was just one of the cities on my list. It was time to move on.

Her brows furrowed. “You moving?”

I nodded. “New York. Lots of people over there I want to . . . see.”

Frowning, she filled up my coffee cup. “I hate to see you go, young man. I’m going to miss seeing you in here every morning. Make sure to stop in again if you’re ever in town.”

“I will.”

Once she was gone, I turned my attention to the window. The second I heard the sirens, I grinned. Others in the diner rushed to the windows, jockeying for position to see what was going on. I knew it was only a matter of time before they found his body.

The crowd grew thick with onlookers, especially when the media showed up. Linda turned on the TV so we could hear the live coverage. “Another Trigger victim . . .” That was one of the names they called me, Trigger. The others were: serial killer, murderer, vigilante, and the list went on and on. I didn’t give a fuck what the people thought. I did what I had to do.

I finished my breakfast and walked up to the counter. Linda’s husband came out from the kitchen and stood beside her, both of their eyes fixed on the TV. “I bet it’s that serial killer again,” she stated. “It’s making me nervous.”

Roger put his arm around her. “I’ll protect you, sweetheart.”

Pulling out my wallet, I placed my money on the counter. “From what I understand, the victims are all criminals. I think you’ll be fine.”

Linda looked at me and sighed. “He’s still a killer. Only God is allowed to dole out that kind of punishment.”

“True, but not everyone wants to wait for an eternity.” I slid the money over to her. “Be safe out there.” I walked out of the restaurant and down the street to my car. My bags were packed and I had my rifle secured in the trunk. New York was going to keep me busy for a while.

My phone rang as soon as I got onto the highway. The caller’s name popped up on my dashboard, and I blew out a frustrated breath as I pressed the button to accept it. “Hello, Glenn.”

Glenn Chandler was my superior and also a good friend of my father’s. They’d worked together for years in the Coast Guard, until Glenn branched out and not only joined a secret group headed by the FBI, but built a multi-billion-dollar company as well. We were fully trained, lethal assassins. I never knew anything like that existed, until my father wanted me to join. I’d spent the past eight years training and working for the FBI.

“Would you like to explain what the fuck you’re doing up there?” Glenn demanded.

“I’m heading to New York. My time in Boston’s done.”

“You’re damn right it is. What the hell were you thinking? You can’t keep doing this, son. If you get caught, my superiors will be up my ass even more so than they are right now. They want you to slow down.”