Bloodshed (Order of the Unseen, #1)(13)

“Except, you’re nothing like him,” he finished, shaking his head. “You loathe the man. I can see it in your eyes.”

“And how the fuck would you know?” I bit out, teeth bared.

“Because the feelings are mutual, Damien,” he revealed, his voice low.

“How do you know my father?”

“He is my brother,” he revealed. “At least he…was…my brother. At one point in time.”

“Bullshit,” I accused.

His face softened. “You’re my nephew, Damien.” He slipped a gloved hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a photo. “We’re family.”

Confusion struck me.

The two of them stood together, and I recognized the little boy in between them.

Me.

My father had mentioned his brother Peter. And then, one day, he never spoke of him again.

“Unchain him,” he ordered, and his men obeyed, dropping the chains to the floor with a loud clank before backing away. He briefly turned his back to me as he shoved the photo back into his jacket. “Your father is an evil man. But he wasn’t always that way.”

I said nothing.

“I’ve been watching you from a distance,” he admitted, turning to meet my gaze. “You were only seven years old the first time you watched a man die. Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing down the lump that’d built up in the back of my throat, I rushed to my feet. “You’ve been watching me that closely? I’m flattered, really,” I sarcastically began. “But I didn’t need a babysitter then, and I sure as hell don’t need one now.”

“We don’t kill innocent people,” he shot back. “Well, we try not to, at least. Society tends to miss and grieve the innocent. Not so much the other way around. We take advantage of that.”

My jaw clenched tight. “You say ‘we’ as if I’m one of you,” I said, gesturing to the five men standing on guard with a nod. “Let’s just say I don’t play well with others.”

“You have my blood, nephew,” he firmly countered, setting his mask on a small, wooden table. “And now you’re eighteen.”

“Cut to the chase, old man—”

“I want you to join us,” he calmly let out. “We can give you that outlet you’ve been searching for.”

“Outlet,” I echoed.

“You have a thirst for power,” he spoke over me, standing close. Too close. Instead of stepping back, I stood my ground. “For blood. Revenge.”

“And you’re going to try to stop me,” I finished for him.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he said. “I’m giving you an ultimatum, Damien. A way for you to release all that pent-up anger you’ve had building up inside you since the death of your mother.”

Enraged with the mention of her, I leaped forward, reaching for his neck. His men began to make their move toward me until he quickly held up his hand, stopping them.

With my face mere inches away from his, I shook with rage. “Don’t speak another word of my mother,” I threatened, seeing red. “Or I swear, I’ll fucking gut you.”

He released a sharp, deep breath. “How sure are you that her untimely death was a suicide?”

My stomach turned.

“She sent me this letter a week before she passed,” he stated, handing me a piece of paper neatly folded into a small square. “She asked me for help. She needed to get the two of you away from your father, even if that meant you leaving her behind.”

I unfolded the letter hastily and squinted my eyes, trying to decipher her handwriting.



Peter,

It’s getting worse. I fear for Damien more and more each day. I have to get him away from here. This house is tainted with the devil. I know I had asked you to watch over him from afar, but I can’t shake the feeling that something terrible is going to happen to us if we stay here any longer.

I’m taking him away. His father has become a terrible monster more and more each day, and I won’t let this go on. I love Damien too much and cannot bear to see him suffer anymore. Please meet us at the cabin on the night of his fifteenth birthday.

11:30.

Thank you for everything.

If something is to happen to me, please know that it was not by my own hands. I would never leave my son.

—Donna



“What the fuck,” I painfully hissed, the room now endlessly spinning around me.

It all hit me at once. Turning my head to the side, I puked up a mixture of bile and my dinner from earlier. My throat began to close. My chest constricted, and my heart pounded violently.

“Your father is a member of a cult,” he revealed. “They call themselves the Hallowed Divine. That’s why he spent nearly all of his time at the church. Although, they aren’t worshipping God within those walls. They’re worshippers of Satan.”

“I’m going to kill him. All of them,” I choked out, darting toward the door until I was physically held back by two of Peter’s men. Except, I broke free from their grasp, only for several more people to hold me in place. “Get the fuck off of me!”

“You won’t win,” Peter raised his voice, blocking my way. His eyes had suddenly become vacant. “Not if you walk into this alone. Years ago, my men died at their hands.”