Razing Grace: Razing Grace Part 1 (7 page)

Once I hit the top of the stairs, I walk straight past the eyes that I know are watching me carefully from the armory room where The 6 are putting away our latest shipment, and towards the large wooden front doors that lead outside. I push them open and rip off my mask, running my hands over my face angrily. I don’t know what the fuck to think of Millie. So I just won’t. Thinking too much gets you killed.

Taking two steps at a time, I walk out towards my cabin. The place we have here is much larger than what they had at the old prison. It’s one community, hidden, under the radar. We don’t have to worry about much of anything because we’re taken care of. Power, food, water… hell, even the internet is available here. It’s modernized now, though. The old soldiers Kurr had at the previous prison headquarters were weak. They didn’t believe in the cause or the fight, whereas the soldiers who stand with Kurr today do. They stand by him with heavy boots and loaded semiautomatics. The 6 are different. No one but us know who we are here and it’s always been like that. I may have been born and raised here, but the workers have an expiration date on the base. You reach a certain year, you’re cut. It’s a part of the system and how we’ve always flown under the radar. Who gets the honors of making those cuts, you ask? Well… they don’t call me the executioner for nothing. I sliced a man I had known since I was a kid from ear to ear and didn’t flinch once. The rest of the boys are the same. None of them live overly extravagant lives—well, except for me, I guess. Viking, he has a couple kids, although none of us know anything past his name “Viking”, but it works. The dynamic we all keep works, and it works really fucking well.

I walk across the gravel road where people move for me. Soldiers, nurses, women, and men, they’re all trained in different ways and they also all know to move when I’m in the vicinity. I didn’t force that; that came with respect and power. The kind of respect that is earned by having a certain amount of power.

I’m just about to walk up the stairs to my cabin when Joker’s voice stops me.

“You feeling alright?” he asks from over my shoulder.

I turn to face him, my arms crossing in front of me. “Yeah, why?” I tilt my head, my eyes narrowing. Why is he asking me this, and why the fuck is he staring at me like I have words carved into my face and he’s trying to read them?

“Oh nothing,” he teases, and if his mask wasn’t covering that face, I bet it would be sporting a smart ass smile. “Just that I heard Kurr say that you seemed a little tense when he brought the priest into the room with Millie.”

He’s baiting me, his eyes watching me for a hint or a clue that I might be lying.

“Nah,” I answer smoothly. “Nothing like that. Kurr is mistaken—again.” He watches me for a few seconds, pausing in between his scanning. “Anything else?” I ask irritated.

He shakes his head. “Guess I’ll see you tonight.” He smirks at me before walking off. I fight the urge to pull out my combat knife and flick it straight into the back of his head until the blade is lodged deep into his teeny brain, but then I remember how much the piece of shit is an asset to not only The Army, but to me too.

MILLIE

“Change,” Tripp orders, pointing towards the pile of clothes that are folded on the floor.

“What’s happening?” My voice is flat and emotionless. The tears have long since dried, along with my feelings. I no longer have the need to survive, no longer have the drive to sustain anything that’s good. I don’t feel.

Studying me carefully, his hands push into the torn denim jean pockets, which are hanging off him in a way that has my mouth watering when it shouldn’t.

“I think in this situation, the element of surprise will be more beneficial to you,” he answers so smoothly that it’s unsettling.

I watch him closely, my eyes locking onto his potent glare as my thumb slips under my now dirty bra. I snap it off my shoulders softly while my eyes remain entranced into his deep blues. The corner of his eyes narrow, the only giveaway that he’s scowling.

“This what you want?” I ask him and I know I shouldn’t, but all sense of anything has gone. Numb bleakness is being pumped around my body with every pulse of my veins and every breath I take. I slip my bra off until my bare breasts are springing free. “You wanna make a girl feel like she isn’t worth shit?” I continue.

His fists tense into balls on either side of him, as his shoulders square and his stance shifts. He saunters towards me, but I hold my ground. With my eyes empty, dry and lifeless, I still hold my ground because I have nothing now. No need to survive. No need to feel. Hell, kill me now for all I care. I’m a mere shell of the girl I was. My dirty blonde hair trails over my shoulders, my blue eyes sinking into their sockets from being so malnourished. I have nothing.

His hand flies up to my cheeks where he squeezes them together roughly until my mouth forms an O. I flinch and he looks deep down into my eyes, studying every fleck of my being.

“Get. Changed.” Then he pushes me back until I hit the wall. Stepping backwards and away from him, I look up from my position. “Get changed,” he repeats, pointing to the clothes. He turns on his heel, letting out a small growl, and walks out of the cell, sliding the door closed on his way out.

I scuffle across the floor, snatching the bundle of clothes in my hand before quickly slipping out of my underwear and removing the wings. Standing in the musky chill of the cell, I glance down at my body, noticing I’ve dropped about five pounds since being here already. I was small naturally. Well, smaller than my sister. Petite is the appropriate word to use, whereas my sister Melissa is athletic and curvy. I always envied her body. I would get picked on growing up because people would say I had the body of a twelve-year-old when I was sixteen. I never understood their reasoning because I had boobs; it was just the rest of me that was small. My hand trails up to the gold crucifix that hangs proudly from my neck and I rip it off, shoving it into my bra. Swallowing down my pain, I pick up the little white corset and tie it around myself before slipping into the tiny black skirt. Wow, no underwear. I should be surprised, but I’m not.

The cell door opens again just as the waist of my skirt snaps around me. I tilt my head at Tripp, who walks in with high heel shoes clutched in his hands.

“Why?” I ask, looking pointedly at the high strappy shoes.

He throws them towards me. “Because when you get on the podium on Sunday, you need to know how the fuck to walk in those.”

“Sunday?” I question, picking up the shoes and slipping my feet into them.

“Stop asking so many fucking questions,” he exhales. “I can’t give you fucking answers, Millie. Just do up your shoes and let’s go.”

I pause around the final strap that I was doing and look up to him hesitantly. “What’s going to happen to me?” I ask, fascinated.

He pauses and I stand to my feet once the final strap is done. Taking my hand in his, the minute his fingertips slide over mine, an electrical current zaps between us. He pulls away. “A whole bunch of shit that that innocent little head of yours couldn’t even dream of.” He nudges his head towards the door. “Move.”

My head angles. “You’ll be surprised,” I mutter before putting one foot in front of the other to make my way towards the dark corridor.

Heavy footsteps pound against the pavement behind me. I pause just as I hit the bottom step.

“What are you doing?” Tripp asks from behind me, his voice mere centimeters from my ears.

I turn around to face him, my eyes scanning his nervously, pulling my lip in-between my teeth. “Can I ask you something?”

“What?” he asks agitated with my stalling.

“How old are you?”

“That doesn’t concern you.”

“Are you old?” I cock my head, fighting a grin because I know deep down that he isn’t.

His thick body stills. “No. Hurry up.” He turns my body, shoving me forward as I continue to make my way up the concrete stairs. It has a medieval castle feel about this place which both scares and intrigues me all at once.

“Is Tripp your real name?” I question him, taking the stairs one at a time. He grunts from behind me, and I swear I could feel the vibration of it grind under my skin. “Why me?” I ask another question, gaining me yet another grunt. I give up on the questions before we reach the door.

***

The dark shadows reflecting off the back spotlight beam through my vision and I clutch onto the little black skirt which is clinging to my thin frail frame.

“Millie?” a deep growl sounds from somewhere in front of me.

I raise my hand up to cover my eyes from the bright light.

“What do you want with me?” Chuckles echo through the air like thunder cutting through a silent, still night.

“This is your final training night, little Millie Hart.” The thick voice pauses before a body steps through the shadows and blocks the light with his frame. Tripp. He saunters closer, and it’s not until he is toe to toe with me that I realize what he’s wearing. Nothing but loose, ripped jeans that hang leisurely off his narrow waist and his steel mask covering his face. His blond hair is how it is always kept: with the sides shaved and the middle slicked back. The first time I saw him, I noticed all the tattoos he has imprinted into his shaved scalp, the intricate twirls all leading to a big fire skull on the left side of his head. I take my eyes off his tattooed scalp and run them down his tattooed torso and finely-sculpted abs. He’s a little too much, not just his body and how he holds himself, but the air itself that he carries around. Evil would submit to his presence. His head tilts to the side as I drop my eyes to the ground. There’s nothing else to keep my eyes occupied but the white twirls that are swimming in the dark marble floor.

“Look at me,” he demands, every nerve ending on every inch of my flesh standing to life.

“Why?” I whisper so softly I thought I imagined saying it out loud. “It’s not like I can see you.”

“Why does it matter whether you can see me or not?” he asks.

I run my dead, emotionless eyes up his sculpted body, ignoring the three tattooed demon skulls that fire up his stomach and the number “000” tattooed over his pelvic bone. Bringing my eyes all the way up to his eyes, I smile.

“So I know who to come after first.”

TRIPP

Her body stills as she pulls her eyes away from mine. Did she just fucking say that to me? I grin, though she can’t see the smugness on my face. Why I’m grinning, I couldn’t tell you, but the only thing that gets my dick harder than nun Millie is Millie throwing a little sass.

“Yeah?” I whisper, bringing my face down to hers. The steel from my mask brushes over her pink pinched cheeks and I chuckle. “When you find me, baby, make sure your tits are out and you’re not wearing anything under that tight little skirt.”

Her face stills and damn if I don’t love the red blush that spreads over those porcelain cheeks. She acts like she’s innocent, and hell, we all know she is, but there’s another side to little Millie Hart and I want to tear that side into pieces and then fuck it back together again.

Bringing my hand to hers, I clench my fingers around her fingers tightly before pulling her body into mine and sliding my other hand to the back of her thin, long neck. Yanking her face into mine, I try to ignore the pulsing of my cock begging to be fed. Stepping one leg in between hers, I kick it out and smile again. “You ready?”

She swallows nervously, but her shoulders remain straight. There’s a dullness laced in her eyes now and I have no one else to thank but myself and the crew for that. I prefer her empty; that way, I can fill her with nothing else but myself. That feeds the beast that lives inside me, the beast that wants her and nothing but her.