Welcome back, Wicked Ones!

I want to give you all a warning, this chapter contains explicit scenes and touches upon topics such as violence and suicide.

Thank you to my all star beta, Fran S. Sunflower!

Her cold eyes are on me. I can feel them burning me through the darkness. She tilts her head slightly before turning to Jasper. He watches her, and I can sense they are having some sort of silent communication. Finally, Isabelle looks back at me. Her long, sharp fingers tap the banister in front of her three times before her arms drop to her sides. Without any further acknowledgment, she turns on her heel and leaves, disappearing into the shadows above.

The moment she's gone, a collective breath is released around the room.

Emmett is suddenly by my side, slapping my back so hard, it knocks the wind out of me. I stagger forward, my body screaming in protest under his playful blow. "Fucking hell, man," he crows, shaking his head. "That was insane!"

I glance back at him, forcing my body straight. "I take it that since she's not down here killing me, that I passed?" I rasp. Emmett chuckles, hooking an arm around my shoulders. The weight of his arm nearly buckles my knees.

"Yeah, man, that response was practically glowing." He pats my shoulder, and I wince. "Come on, man. Let's get you settled in before I head back out."

V

Le Juge

Isabelle

Il ne faut pas jouer avec le feu.

"I like him," Jasper says as we leave the mezzanine. I glance at him, scowling slightly as we head back toward the upper levels of the compound. "How often do you see someone take down Felix?" He presses.

Almost never. Felix is the best fighter I've ever met, and I've never seen him outsmarted before. It makes me distrust Edward even more.

"I wonder where he's been trained. He was smart in the Ring, and obviously, he's got some good training…"

"Jasper," I snap, glancing at him as we hit the elevators. He looks at me. "Shut the hell up."

He flashes me a bright grin as we climb into the elevator. I stab the button for the upper levels, and the doors close silently. The elevator takes off smoothly, and out of the corner of my eye, I can feel Jasper watching me. I ignore him as we climb.

When we reach the top floor, I step out of the elevator, and Jasper follows me. It's annoying. Doesn't he have shit to do?

When I reach my office, I turn to look at him. "What?" I snap, irritated because I can feel him smirking.

Jasper reaches up to scratch at the stubble across his jaw. "You didn't want to take him on, did you?" I don't bother answering, and he nods slowly. "So why put him in the Ring?"

My jaw tightens, my teeth grinding against each other as I turn and fling the doors of my office open. Jasper follows me in.

"I don't get it," he says quietly. "What are you picking up from him that I'm not?"

I look at him in surprise. Sometimes, as annoying as he can be, Jasper has moments of profound insight that surprise me.

"I don't know," I say quietly. "I just don't trust him."

Jasper nods. "Women's intuition, perhaps?"

I glare at him. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I ask, feeling myself get defensive. He holds his palms up in surrender.

"Easy there, I'm not insulting you. Women historically have been known to have deep survival intuition and tend to be in tune with it more than men," he says, shrugging lightly. I grunt.

"Have you considered the fact that historically, women need intuition to be looking out for them because no one else will?" I demand.

Jasper considers me a moment, sliding his hands into his pockets. "It's a good point," he says slowly. I shake my head.

"Get to the point or get the fuck out," I snap.

Jasper breaks out of his thoughts and offers me a lazy smile. "I know you don't trust him, but I liked him. I'll let him rest a bit; then I'll run him tonight, see how he does."

I look up at him, frowning. "You want him on tonight's run?" I ask, skeptical. Jasper shrugs.

"Yeah, why not. It's a good chance for him to show us where he's at. See if he has the stomach for this work."

I consider that.

"Fine," I agree. "Let him go. If he stomachs it, we'll throw him in the Pit in a few days." Jasper raises an eyebrow at me as I move around my desk, retrieving my phone. I glance up at him. "What?"

"You want him in the Pit with you?"

I slam my phone back down on my desk, probably too hard as my gaze hardens on Jasper. "If he can't fucking take the Pit, I'll kill him myself."

Jasper shifts back on the balls of his feet, just enough to tell me I've surprised him. He nods, though, and reaches up to scratch his jaw again.

"All right, I'll have him down there when you're ready. Anything else?"

I tap my fingers against the desk once before shaking my head. "Get out of my sight," I snap, my voice a touch softer. Jasper smirks and nods his head once before leaving my office.

As soon as he's gone, I collapse behind my desk.

Fucking hell.

The absolute last thing I need walking around this compound is someone like Edward Masen. He's too smart; you can see it in his eyes. He's a man who knows how to play people, and people like that need to be kept under close watch or just cut out completely.

I think again about the fight. Despite Felix's phenomenal speed and strength, Edward kept pushing, assessing, and reassessing. He's adaptable, quick on his feet, and strategic. All things that make me nervous about keeping him around.

I tap my nails against the desk and silently hope I won't come to regret letting Edward Masen in.

- V -

I manage about three hours of sleep before I'm needed again downstairs. In general, I sleep very little, but on nights we are running a mission, I make it a goal to try to get in a few more hours.

Tonight's run is far simpler than the disaster that was Lyakios' attempted assassination a few nights ago. The target lives alone and holds to such a regular schedule; it should be easy.

That's why tonight there will only be three of us.

"Clear?" I ask into my headset. I glance at Rose, who meets my gaze in the darkness.

"Yes, go," Alice reports into my ear.

Rose and I slip through the yard like ghosts. The house is a large colonial, purchased from bribe money that has allowed dozens of wicked people to continue abusing their children.

It ends tonight.

There is no dog, and the security system is so easy to bypass, it's almost laughable. You would think a crooked judge would be slightly more concerned about their safety.

That's the thing with people who think themselves above the law, they get sloppy, and then they have to answer to me.

Rose and I slip into the house, eyes sharp and on the lookout for anything suspicious. Everything is exactly as it should be. There is absolutely no indication that tonight will be Judge Morales' last night.

We slip through the dark house until we get to the study, where we know we will find the Judge. It's the same pattern, night after night, and it makes my job almost too easy.

She's sitting in her wing-back chair, two-thirds of the way through her third glass of wine. She doesn't see us until it's far too late. My knife is at her throat, pressing lightly enough not to cut, though she can feel the sharpness of it against her skin. She gasps, her eyes bugging as her hands go up. "Please!" she cries. "Don't hurt me!" The book in her lap tumbles to the ground, landing with a muted thud on the thick carpet.

I glance up at Rose, who sees my look and nods, moving to the Judge's desk for some paper and a pen. The Judge's panicked breathing fills the room. "Please, what do you want? Money? I have money in a safe. I'll give you whatever you want," she cries, her voice tripping over itself in a rush to buy us off.

"You think we can be so easily swayed," I hiss near her ear. "As if something as common as money could stop us."

She freezes, and in the reflection of the glass by her side, I see her eyes widen. "W-who are you?" she whimpers. "What is it you want?"

Rose comes back with the paper and pen and places them both on the table beside the Judge.

"The time has come, Sandra Morales," I say, easing the knife from her ever so slightly. She takes a deep breath in the space I've provided for her. "It's time to confess your sins."

She hesitates, and I drop the knife from her throat, moving around so I'm facing her. She blinks up at me.

"W-what sins? I don't know what you're talking about!"

I grit my teeth. It's always the same. Wicked people claiming innocence too late.

"Edgar Vega," I say slowly. "Timothy Howell. Jonathan Lyndes." As I list the men she's released back into this wretched world, without consequence, her eyes grow wide, and I see her hands start to shake. I continue to list the foul people she's helped until she's white as death. "Did you think no one was watching you?"

She looks like she may pass out. Her eyes are constricted so tight with her fear the black pupil is barely visible. "P-please. You can have whatever you want," she cries.

I tap the paper beside her. "Confess your sins."

She stares up at me, blinking through her tears. "N-no," she says, her features turning stubborn. "No, that would ruin me!"

I barely resist rolling my eyes. I lean over her, getting right in her face. She's forty-three, though she does a good job trying to look younger. Her hair is dyed religiously; a bright honey blond I'm not sure was ever her natural color. Her eyes are a light brown, and the lack of lines on her face, even as she stares at me in distress, tells me she's relied on Botox to keep up her looks.

"You can write this under your own free will," I whisper, my voice as cold as ice. "Or I can start peeling the flesh from your bones until you're ready to cooperate." I hold up my knife, and she gasps, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. It's a disgusting sight, and I sneer at her before backing up. She reaches for the paper and shakily begins to write. I glance at Rose, who is watching impassively.

I won't actually torture the Judge. She's too well-known and connected. Her death will be examined, and I need to plan it carefully. Some people I can kill and make disappear, but others I have to use for a bigger picture.

Rose and I stand and wait for the Judge to finish her confession. It takes a long time, and when she hesitates, glancing up at me, I glare back, and she immediately returns to writing. It's quite boring actually, but it's important.

While she's writing, Rose slips from the room, coming back a few minutes later with an orange pill bottle. I look at it and nod.

We turn back to the Judge. When she's finally done, she has more than two pages of confessions. Rose takes the paper from her, looking over it, making sure nothing has been left out. When she gives me a nod, I turn back to the Judge.

"What are you going to do with it?" she croaks, tears running down her cheeks.

"We're going to take vengeance."

She blinks, shaking her head slightly. "Please, just let me go. I've done everything you wanted."

I thrust the pill bottle on the table. "Not quite yet."

She stares at the bottle, then looks back up at me. "I don't understand."

I glare at her. "You have two options. You can take this bottle and end your own life, or you can die by my hands." I hold up the knife. "Believe me; it will not be quick or merciful."

She's shaking in her chair. "No, I don't want to d-die."

"You don't have a choice."

She's crying so hard; snot is pouring out of her nose. It's disgusting.

I do have a plan in place in case she proves stubborn and foolish enough not to take the medication. I hate giving the easy out, but right now, what's more important is the confession she's left. Not a single person on this list will live past the month.

The Judge reaches out with shaky hands to the pill bottle. She grips it tight in her hands, her eyes screwing shut as she murmurs a silent prayer.

She takes her time opening the bottle and pouring the pills into her palm. I recognize the Vicodin in her hands.

"All of it," I order, motioning to her glass of wine. She looks up at me, fresh tears pouring down her face.

"Please, have mercy."

The words send a frigid fury through me. "Mercy?" I snarl, barely able to hold back my rage. "You have earned no mercy." I step toward her, reaching for her left hand. But before she can move, my knife is slicing down her forearm, opening her arteries. "You have been judged for your sins," I hiss into her face as she begins to scream, struggling to get out of my grasp. I catch her other hand, running my knife down her other forearm as she shrieks. "This is your reckoning."

The pills are scattered on the floor below her, and she falls to her knees, howling, trying desperately to stop the flow of blood. I step back from her, black fury rolling through me. "Help me!" she cries to Rose. "Please, help me!"

Rose ignores her, turning to me. "That didn't go according to plan," she says dryly. I shoot her a look. She's not criticizing; she knows better than that.

"Tell Alice we will need Turner," I instruct. "Then find me a knife."

Rose nods, slipping from the room, fully ignoring the dying, screaming woman on the floor.

I turn to the Judge, crouching next to her. She's slowing down, her screams turning to moans and whimpers. It won't be long now.

"I'm going to dismantle your world rock by rock. Your kingdom will be overturned until every cockroach you've let live has been found and exterminated."

Her eyes are glassy as she gazes up at me, and within a few more minutes, I know she's dead.

Rose comes back into the room, handing me a large kitchen knife.

I take it in my gloved hand and wrap the Judge's fingers around it, extracting her prints. I run it over her cuts as well before letting the knife clatter to the floor.

When I'm done, I stand and turn to Rose. "Did you get what we need?" I ask. She nods and I let out a short breath. "Good. Let's go."

-V-

Jasper is just getting back from his drug deal when we return to La Cathédrale. I see Edward is still with him, which means he managed to make it through the night. When he sees me, I watch him closely for his reaction. I know I have blood still on me, and I need to know how he'll react to this.

He doesn't. His bright green eyes stay fixed, steady, as he stares at me impassively.

"How did it go?" Jasper asks, looking at me. My eyes leave Edward to land on my second in command.

I don't know why he's asking in front of Edward. He should know I'm not going to answer him. I almost never talk business outside my office.

Jasper's eyes flicker over me, landing on the blood splatters across my clothes and the cold stiffness in my expression. Finally, he nods.

"All right," he says slowly. "Let me know what you need."

I give him a small, tight nod, barely moving my head before I head deeper into La Cathédrale. I don't spare Edward a second glance.

I make my way up to my quarters, showering and properly taking care of my blood-splattered clothing. It's late, but the adrenaline from my anger is still coursing through me, so I pull on some slacks and a loose button-down. It's about as casual as I get outside of my workout clothes.

I sit down at my desk, and I'm not there five minutes before there's a knock at the door.

"What?" I bark.

Rose comes in, also showered and cleaned up, though she didn't have a trace of blood on her. "Here is what we got from the Judge's house," she says, slipping the file onto my desk. I take it, not yet opening it.

"Did you talk to Turner?" I demand.

Rose nods. "He's already on it. The coroner's report will reflect a suicide."

I let out a tight breath. "Good." Rose hesitates, and I look up at her. "What?"

"There is a man on the Judge's list," she says slowly. I look at her closely. I've known Rose for two years now. She came to us broken, angry, and bloodthirsty, like many of the women who have since joined. She has been phenomenally reliable since. "I would like to take him."

I look down at the file. There are so many people on this list; I'm going to have to assign teams to sort through it. I tap the file once before picking it up and holding it out to her. Rose frowns slightly, accepting the folder. "Run this," I tell her. "Assign the teams you need. Then, deliver the punishments you find fitting." It's the closest I'll get to telling her I trust her, and she seems to know because she swallows and nods slowly.

"I'll take care of it," she says confidently. I know she will.

Rose turns and heads out of my office. She's come a long way from being the frail victim she'd been when she'd shown up. A feeling almost like pride wells up in me when I think about her.

It's an uncomfortable feeling, and I roll my shoulders to try to shake it off.

Deciding there is only one way to work out my tension, I stand from behind my desk and head down to the Ring.

-V-

The Ring is empty at this time of night, which is a large part of why I work out so late.

I go through my paces, pushing myself harder and harder, demanding more from my body until I feel I'm ready to collapse.

It isn't until I'm practicing some kickboxing moves that I feel eyes on me. I pause in my movement, turning and spotting him easily in the dark. His eyes nearly glow in the blackness of the Ring.

I feel my spine stiffen as I glare at him. "What do you want?" I snap.

He comes toward me, stepping into the light. I'm surprised to see he's dressed for a workout. I'd think after fighting Felix this morning and then going on the run with Jasper, he'd be exhausted by now.

"Hoping to work out," he says slowly. My eyes narrow.

"At three in the morning?" I ask.

He shrugs one shoulder. "It seemed like a good time to be alone."

His answer catches me off guard, and my eyes narrow even further. I'm trying to read him, but it isn't easy. He exudes a lot of cockiness I don't think is genuine, but for the life of me, I can't fathom why he'd want people to believe it of him.

"May I?" he asks, nodding his head toward the punching bag hanging near me.

"What is it you want?" I ask, repeating the question I'd asked this morning. His answer had resonated with truth and had struck a chord with me, which was the only reason he'd made it this far today. He looks at me now, and it seems as if he's calculating his response. His hesitation is enough of an answer. He's guarded now, and unlike this morning, I won't be able to pull an honest word from him.

I step back from the punching bag and nod. "I'm done."

I can feel his eyes on me as I walk away, and I have to fight my instincts and keep walking. Yet, everything in me tells me not to turn my back on him.

I leave the Ring feeling even more tense than I was when I went down there.

Things are taking a dark turn, and there will be some dark scenes coming up. I'll see you next week, my Wicked Ones.

Translations:

1. Le Juge - The Judge (French)

2. Il ne faut pas jouer avec le feu. - We must not ply with fire. (French)