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Chapters (41)
  1. Ethic
  2. Ashley Antoinette
  3. Recommendation From The Author
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. Morgan:
  8. Messiah:
  9. Morgan:
  10. Messiah:
  11. Untitled
  12. Messiah:
  13. Messiah:
  14. 3
  15. 4
  16. 5
  17. 6
  18. 7
  19. 8
  20. 9
  21. 10
  22. Bestie:
  23. Morgan:
  24. Bestie:
  25. Morgan:
  26. Bestie:
  27. 11
  28. 12
  29. Ethic:
  30. 13
  31. Untitled
  32. Morgan:
  33. Messiah:
  34. 14
  35. 15
  36. 16
  37. 17
  38. 18
  39. 19
  40. 20
  41. Untitled

The little girl choked, as blood flooded her mouth. The fear in her eyes caused turmoil to erupt inside him. Ethic wasn’t built for this… not anymore. Life had matured him. His children had shown him a side of himself that he never knew he had. He was no longer the ruthless man who could walk away, unaffected, after something like this. This would stain his conscience until the day he died. Ethic placed her on the couch, as he frantically dug through Lucas’ pockets to find a cell phone. He had no remorse for the body on the floor, but this little girl, losing her life by the second, was torment to his soul.

He finally found it and dialed 911, not caring that he was sacrificing himself to save this child. He kept envisioning his children in the crossfires of war, bleeding out, because of some mistake he had made, and it burned his eyes with emotion.

This was it. This was the deed that would put him under the jail; and as the little girl died in front of him, he thought, I deserve it. This was the part of the game he didn’t like. Innocent people got hurt. They were casualties of circumstance, and Ethic was to blame for this young life lost.

The sound of someone entering behind him caused him to turn, gun pointed, and he aimed at an old woman who held nothing but fear in her eyes.

Ethic froze, and so did she, as they both waited for the other to make a move. They stared at one another, the seconds seeming like hours, as they sized one another up. The old Ethic would have popped her, laying her down right where she stood, but enough blood had been shed. The night was already tragic enough. He didn’t need the life of an old woman on his soul.

“You get out of here,” the old woman spoke, finally, mustering all her courage, as she held up a black purse as if it could provide some sort of defense.

“What did you do?” she screamed, as she ran to the little girl on the ground, her fear taking a back seat to her concern. Ethic backpedaled out of the house, jumping the fence in the backyard to make it to the next block. Snatching off the ski mask, he walked, briskly, back around to his truck and pulled away into the night.

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