Haunting-Adeline

Dan and I mingle for the next several hours. The women here are
abused, all blitzed out of their minds and accep ng of the punishments for
doing nothing wrong.
A metal chalice out of the corner of my eye catches my a en on. It’s
si ng atop a table, an older man drinking from it steadily. Subtly glancing
around, I no ce a few more. They look exactly like the goblets that were
used in the leaked videos.
My heart sinks, but so far, I can’t see any signs that blood is in them.
“Are you looking to be ini ated into the club?” Dan asks casually, pulling
my a en on to him sipping his Scotch and eyeing me over the rim of his
glass.
His gaze is probing and studious, but I give him nothing in return. The
muscles in my face stay firmly in place as I respond, “Aren’t I already in?”
A smirk crosses Dan’s face, and with the dim ligh ng and the dancing
shadows, it makes him appear sinister. I don’t even blink at the sight.
I’m much fucking scarier.
“Not even close, brother.”
I quirk a brow, sipping at my own whiskey. When I give him an expectant
look, he chuckles.
“If you truly want it, you need to have an acquired taste.”
“I have many acquired tastes,” I say, adding a bit of darkness to my tone.
Not hard to do when I’m not lying. Their tastes are spilling the blood of the
innocent, and mine just happen to be killing everyone who does so.
“Pray tell, what do those tastes entail?” Dan inquires, his tone whimsical
and almost amused.
I shrug a shoulder nonchalantly and take a sip of whiskey while pulling
my phone out with the other hand. I pull up a picture of Daniella, a girl I
saved five years ago.
She’s deep in a safehouse, as she was an orphan with no home to return
to when I rescued her. It’s an innocent picture of her dressed in Barbie
pajamas. What sells the illusion is the haunted look in her eyes and the
bruises marring her skin. The picture was taken a er we first rescued her.
She was ten at the me, and I made sure to ask her permission before
showing this to anyone.
This is the first me I’ve had to befriend pedophiles before I killed them,
but I knew that if I was ever going to convince them I was just like them, I’d