The Annihilator (Dark Verse #5)(56)

Okay. That still didn’t answer her question.
“It was in my last year working for them that I understood the structure of the organization. It’s like a pyramid, with handlers at the bottom, their managers above them, then their bosses, and finally The Syndicate leaders themselves. None of the lower levels know anyone above beside their own contact. That’s how the organization has worked for decades and kept everything secret.”
Lyla stayed still, twining her legs with his to let him know she was there without breaking his flow.
“There are—or were—five leaders. The Syndicaters.”
“Is that what they call themselves?”
A dark chuckle left him. “On the nose, isn’t it?”
It was. But people like that with that high up the organization had to be full of hubris, so she wasn’t surprised. “What do you mean there were five leaders?”
“Four of them are dead,” he turned to look at her. “Now there’s just one.”
Her heart began to race at his words, at the implication. No way. She went up on her elbow, looking down at him in shock. “You mean if he is removed, the organization can... end?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” he explained, his eyes on her. “If he’s removed, someone else would rise and fill the void. And organization such as this, that’s existed for over five decades, it cannot be taken down in one strike.”
“But you’ve been working on it for almost two of those decades, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
Why though? She didn’t get that. It wasn’t because of some kind of moral compass that he had—she knew his morality was as good as null when it came to anyone but her. Even the kids, he wasn’t attached to but rather their helplessness made him step up. But a man like him, obsessed with taking the organization down, had to have some motive.
She didn’t voice any of her thoughts, waiting patiently for him to elaborate.
His jaw worked.
“That last year I was there, amongst the data I had collected, I found my own file.”
Oh.
Oh.
“I’d been bred to an underage girl by a man in his thirties,” he stated matter-of-factly. “She killed herself after giving birth to me, and I was put into the home. My sire—”
She held her breath.
“—was a Syndicater at the time.”
Speechless.
She was stunned speechless.
At her shocked silence, another dark chuckle left him. “I am the prince of this hell in every way. Fitting, isn’t it?”
She couldn't say a word. She didn't know what word to say. So she lay her head on his chest, her heart thudding as his beat at a steady pace, pieces of this man falling into place.

Chapter twenty-fiveLyla


The sun was setting in the sky as they walked down the city street. In her green sweater and navy jeans and white sneakers, her vivid read hair falling to the upper half of her back, she walked tucked under the arm of the most lethal man she knew. He was in his black jeans and a black sweater, his hands in the gloves he always wore on the outside, his face exposed to the cold wind.
And that in itself let her know exactly what they were going to do.
They said you only saw the Shadow Man’s face right before you died, and with the exception of herself, she doubted it was false. And since they were going to see the bald man, she knew his time was up.
Still processing everything she’d learned about him that morning, Lyla took in the sight of the city as they moved by. Gladestone was surprisingly busy with people walking down the pavements, cars honking away in the traffic, street vendors selling things on the sides. It was loud and populated and she didn’t understand how a city like this had no idea of what went on within it. Or maybe it did. Maybe they all knew and nobody cared.
Dainn guided them to the left, into a narrower street that opened up into a quieter, more industrial area. There were still people milling about, workers going in and out of the factories, some of them stopping to give her a onceover before looking at the man at her side, and quickly looking away. That didn’t surprise her one bit. Even without the shadows and the darkness, there was something inherently dangerous about him, something that warned the other person not to look too close before they couldn’t look at all.
She tightened her arm around his waist, glancing up at him as they kept moving. “Why didn’t we take the car?”
His eyes were vigilant even as he appeared casual, clocking everything and everyone. “It would’ve been too noticeable.”
“And we aren’t noticeable?” she laughed, shaking her head at the idea. He might not have been but she was attracting attention and they both knew it.
“Oh, but we’re just two lovers out for a stroll,” he informed her, his lips twitching.
She liked him like this. She didn’t know if it was the fact that he’d shared so much of himself with her or that he was genuinely enjoying getting her vengeance or maybe both, but he felt lighter with her, and he was definitely more handsy than he had been. His hands had taken up residence on some part of her body or another all through the day and it felt newer, the way he touched her without sexual intent now. It felt… domestic almost, if they could ever be used with that word.
Taking a turn to the left, to a much more isolated part of the industrial area, Lyla looked around as any signs of inhabitation fell away.
"Why aren't there any people here?"
His eyes still sweeping the area, he answered. "Because this whole block is owned by a dead industrialist. His industries are collecting dust so to speak, and this area used to be the prime spot for his business. Now, lowlives use it sometimes."