Page 80 of Chained

"Good. Don't forget it, either." He throws the contract at me, the paper falling to the floor. I crouch to grab it, crunching it in my hands as I turn to leave.

"Oh, and Ace, the nighttime visits end now. Touch her again, and I'll saw your fucking hands off. Got it?"

I don't reply, but he doesn't need me to. I'm out the door quicker than I'd entered. I open the scrunched-up contract in my hands, heart dropping when I see the name.

Vivienne Farrel.

John's wife. A woman. The contract he'd given was a woman. I swallow, heart quickening as a bead of sweat drops from my eyebrow. I've never killed a woman before. Fuck, Adrian had spent years fighting against it with Archie, and for the most part, he succeeded. He always told me it was against our rules, and even though our lives don't belong to us, who we kill does. I know he's broken it before, that Vincent didn't give a fuck about how we felt or what we wanted, but I don't know if I can do it now. I ball the paper up in my fist and storm through the manor. The maids cleaning in the main hall don't look up, and I don't acknowledge them, either. I just keep walking until I reach the doors to the training room.

I spot Adrian as soon as I walk inside, filling the same black bag he always carries on jobs with weapons that hang on the training room wall. I bound over, my boots thudding against the wood floor and shove the paper into his chest.

"What the fuck?" he asks, gripping the paper. He doesn't say anything else, not until he reads the name. "What did you do, Jax? What did you do to get this contract?" His voice is panicked. His hands find my shoulders, gripping hard. "What the fuck did you do?"

"I asked for it," I reply honestly. I'd asked for the contract. I'd asked to take a life. This is what I deserve. Now if I leave her alive, I'll die for failing, and maybe that was Vincent's plan all along.

"You stupid, stupid boy." The grief in Adrian's voice shines through, like he's already grieving my loss. Maybe it's because he knows without completion Vincent will have me killed, or worse—he knows the part of you that you lose when you complete a contract like this.

"Let's go." Adrian hitches the bag over his shoulder, eyes set. For a second, I don't register his words.

"What?"

"I said let's fucking go." He shoves past me, barging into my shoulder. I follow suit like I've always done, trailing behind him like a lost fucking puppy.

"I can do this, Adrian, I don't need you there⁠—"

He turns, dropping the bag. His face is a scowl as his hands shove against my shoulders, knocking me back.

"You—" he shoves again, harder. But I don't react, not at first. "Are proof that I was never made to be a father, because I raised a fucking idiot."

"Stop," I say, but it comes out weak. His hands shove again until I stumble back.

"You think you're a man, Ace, because you learnt how to fucking survive? How to lose yourself in every kill, fuck, even how to enjoy it?" He shoves again, and this time I don't lose balance. With each word, he's pissing me off more.

"But it's different, Jax, when it isn't a grown bloke who can fight you back, who might launch a punch at you or fight against the blade. No, let me tell you. When it's a woman, Jax, you see their fear. You hear their screams. The way they can't fight back, the way they plead and sob as you overpower them." I can't take it, his words. Everything he's saying. I shove back.

"I don't fucking need you to hold my hand, I know what I'm doing," I spit, watching as he regains balance. He scoffs, shaking his head and lunges towards me. His hands grip my face, his jaw wound so tight he can barely speak. His forehead leans against mine as my hands reach for his wrists.

"You are my boy, Ace. Mine. Not my blood, but my fucking heart. I will not let you do this, I won't watch this destroy you."

"You don't have a choice."

My body trembles as the numbness that had been begging to creep in settles in my chest, but Adrian's grip tightens around my face, forcing me to feel things I didn't want to feel. Forcing the memory of the girls I'd delivered to the devil. Of every life I'd ever taken and how their blood made my heart sing. I don't deserve it. His kindness, his forgiveness, and fuck, Amora—her eyes, the way she looks at me like I'm not like the rest of them. I can't take it, I need to feel something, anything but this.

"I said, I know what I'm fucking doing," I snap, shoving Adrian harder than I ever had before. He stumbles back, falling to the ground. His eyes are wide as he stares up at me, but I don't care. I'm tired of caring.

"Fine," he says through gritted teeth. "You think you can handle this? Do it. But don't come fucking crawling to me when her scream haunts every waking moment."

I grab the bag that had fallen by his feet, hitching it above my shoulder and walk away, slamming the door behind me. As I move through the manor, I hear Adrian's voice.

"You'll always be my Ace of hearts, kid."

The words stop me in my tracks, forcing the memory of four years ago into my mind. A memory I'd tried so long to forget. I hear the whispering of a voice I'd long forgotten.

My Ace of hearts, as black as a spade.

Fuck off and get out of my fucking head, I grumble to myself as I step out of the manor doors. Boots kicking against the gravel, I click the fob in my hand and unlock my car that sits waiting for me then slide into the driver's seat, throwing the bag beside me. My hands grip the wheel, heart racing with anticipation and somewhere deeper, excitement for what's to come next. And for a second, it's like the first kill all over again.

Chapter Twenty-Three