Broken Oaths

The early morning sun crept over South Philadelphia, casting long shadows on cracked sidewalks and silent streets. Jack Weston sat at his small kitchen table, wide awake despite more than twenty-four hours without sleep. His body was tired, but his mind buzzed, still running on the adrenaline of last night’s events.

A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the table before him, and a cigarette burned low in the ashtray, its smoke twisting lazily toward the ceiling. Jack hadn’t planned on drinking, but after what he’d done, he needed something to settle his nerves. He could feel it—something had changed inside him. The line between right and wrong, once blurred, was now entirely gone, wiped away in a matter of minutes as he watched Charlie Dayton take his last breath.

The strangest part? He didn’t regret it. Not even a little.

The high he’d felt as he ended Charlie’s life was like nothing he’d ever experienced. For the first time in years, he felt truly alive. The power, the sense of control, was intoxicating, and he craved more. Yet, there was a small voice in the back of his mind warning him that this path was dangerous.

His phone buzzed on the table, breaking his thoughts. He glanced down, seeing Lena’s name on the screen. Without hesitation, he picked it up.

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice gravelly from smoke and whiskey.

“Morning,” Lena replied, her tone as calm as ever. “How are you feeling?”

Jack leaned back, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Like I’m coming down from the best high I’ve ever had.”

She paused, and he could almost hear her smile. “I know what you mean. It’s strange. I thought I’d feel more… something. Guilt, maybe. But all I feel is relief. Like we did the world a favor.”

He nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. They hadn’t just killed Charlie Dayton; they’d rid the world of someone who would never be missed. And somehow, that made it feel right.

“So, what now?” Lena’s voice held a tension that Jack recognized. “What happens next?”

Jack took a long drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He hadn’t planned past last night, but now that she’d asked, the answer felt obvious. “We keep going.”

A silence stretched between them, and Jack could feel her weighing his words. Finally, she spoke, her voice firm. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Excitement surged through him. They were in this together now, bound by the darkness they’d embraced. He heard the same hunger in her voice, the same need for more.

“We need to be smart about this,” Lena continued, her tone growing sharper. “Last night was intense, but we got lucky. If we’re going to keep doing this, we need a plan.”

“You’re thinking long-term,” he replied, intrigued.

“Exactly. We can’t afford to be sloppy. No one will miss a guy like Charlie, but if we’re not careful, someone will eventually take notice. We have to be methodical. Careful.”

She was right. As thrilling as last night had been, it had been messy. There were loose ends they hadn’t accounted for. If they were going to do this, they needed to be smarter.

“What do you suggest?” he asked.

“We choose our targets carefully,” she replied. “People who won’t be missed. People who deserve it. We’re not just killing to kill. We’re doing what no one else has the guts to do.”

Jack’s lips curled into a smirk. “Vigilantes.”

“Not exactly,” Lena said, her voice cool and calculating. “This isn’t about justice. It’s about control. We’re good at this, Jack. We know how to be careful. We can make this work.”

Jack took another drag on his cigarette, letting the idea settle in his mind. Playing judge, jury, and executioner thrilled him in a way he hadn’t expected. Together, they could be unstoppable. Partners in crime—literally.

“You’re serious,” he said, though he already knew the answer.

“I am,” she replied, her voice steady. “We’re smart. We can cover our tracks. We make sure no one ever finds out.”

The thrill of their shared decision filled him. He could sense Lena’s determination, matching his own. They’d crossed the line together, and there was no turning back now.

“Meet me tonight,” Lena said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “We need to figure out the next step.”

“Where?” he asked, leaning forward, anticipation coiling in his chest.

“There’s an old warehouse by the river. It’s quiet. No one goes there. I’ll text you the address.”

“See you tonight,” he replied, ending the call.

Jack sat in silence, the reality of their plan sinking in. He knew what they were doing was dangerous, reckless even, but he didn’t care. He could still feel the rush from last night, a desire for more burning in his veins. He’d tasted the darkness, and now, there was no way he could turn away.

Standing, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Today, he’d prepare. Plan. They had work to do, and Jack Weston was ready for whatever came next.