The Bad Ones Are Coming

The fifth man stumbles in and he has be straight from the frat house. Cropped hoodie reveals a thick trunk and chiseled abs, curls in his mullet wild, sweatpants low, chewing a long piece of red liquorice.

He skids to a halt, blinks at the room, then zeroes in on me like he’s spotted a unicorn.

Ezra sighs so loudly it might actually be a soul leaving his body.

“Jax,” Corrian growls.

“Sorry, Daddy.” Jax mutters, not even remotely sorry, mouth full of sugar and mischief. He grins, wide and wicked, then turns back to me.

I’m still frozen, mouth slightly open.

Jax’s smile goes nuclear.

He drops to one knee, takes my hand with mock ceremony, kisses it with a flourish, and says, completely deadpan.

“And who, pray tell, is the walking sex cloud who summoned me from my sacred nap?”

No way I am getting out of here without trauma or orgasms, probably both.

Corrian kicks off his spot, standing to full height. Every other man shrinks back an inch, including Jax who drops my hand, stands and sidles up to the ghost leant by the door. It looks like he nuzzles into the assassin's shoulder.

The heat is making me hallucinate.

Ezra speaks, pulling me from my spiral.

“So this is her?” he asks, barely glancing at me.

“This is her,” Corrian says, nodding.

Ezra eyes me over the rim of his cup. 

“Not what I expected.”

“Rude.” I snap back. 

Ezra just grins over his cup.

“So,” I squeak out. “This is turning into some kind of very niche, cult recruitment. I’m just gonna-” I flick my thumb over my shoulder toward the door.

Corrian steps forward, the movement sending more warmth firing towards me. He hands me a piece of paper.

A quick glance, I see it’s a contract. 

“We’d like to offer you the job. Effective immediately.”

I blink. 

“I haven’t answered any questions. I don’t know what this job even is.”

“You're a fit for it. I’m sure.” Corrian says smoothly.

“But you haven’t even–”

“Here’s the starting salary,” Ezra interrupts me, tapping at his tablet before turning the screen towards me. 

It’s double what the ad promised, five times what I’ve ever made in my life.

“This a prank?” I snap, temper that’s been building from the whole, overwhelming, shit situation finally bubbling over.

“I’m on one of those weird shows where the host jumps out and tells me I’ve been hired to babysit feral pigs. Or do you all just get off on fucking with me?”

They all react at once. Jax whines and starts to move towards me, the assassin puts an arm in front of him, holding him back. Viking growls, but doesn’t move. Ezra smirks, Corrian somehow makes himself look even bigger.

“It isn’t a prank.” Corrian replies, eyes locked on mine. “We have a job opening. I am an exceptionally good judge of character, and believe you will be the perfect fit for the role.”

He steps closer, towering over me now, energy flowing off him in waves.

“We aren’t trying to trick you, Frankie.”

I open my mouth. I close it. The way my name sounds in this mans mouth is criminal, and totally unfair to me. Something strange is happening here. I don’t know what or why. But I can’t make myself say no.

Shit.

“In or out Frankfurter?” Jax chimes in with a new nickname, bouncing on the balls of his feet, willing me on.

“Okay,” I sigh. “I’m in. For now.”

The assassin’s lip twitches, a ghost of a smirk, the first expression I’ve seen on him.

It’s not comforting.

Corrian nods once and pulls a pen from his trouser pocket. He hands it to me and motions towards the contract sat on the table in front of me.

Why does this feel like signing for more than a job?

My fingers shake a little as I sign.

Corrian takes the paper wordlessly, walks to the far corner of the room, and opens what I thought was a supply cabinet. It’s a safe. There’s no keypad, no dial, just a palm reader. He presses his hand to the surface and slides the contract inside, closes it, and when he turns back, it’s like a switch flips.

“This is Leo,” he says, nodding to the Viking. Leo grunts in response.

“Ezra.” CEO guy who already looks like he regrets letting me sign anything. He offers a curt nod and nothing else.

“River.” The shadow. Still watching me, still not blinking.

“Jax,” Corrian adds, with the vocal equivalent of an exhausted sigh.

“Hi!” Jax beams. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“I’ll show you around.” Corrian gestures to the door.

He’s already out the door by the time I can scramble out of my seat. I trail behind him, turning to the side so I don’t accidentally brush against River. 

As I step into the hall, Jax bellows behind me.

“Oh shit, SNACKS.” 

I follow Corrian through the daycare and try not to stare too hard. The vibe is secret government project. A little too clean. A little too quiet. There are no kids here right now, but I can almost feel them in the walls. The cubbies are filled, the lockers are labeled.

“The children we take care of… they’re special,” Corrian says as we pass a reading nook with oversized bean bag chairs and a shelf full of books no toddler would read. 

I catch one title, ‘Teeth Are Not for Biting (But Sometimes They Are)’.

I raise an eyebrow. “Special how?”

He doesn’t answer.

We pass a hallway lined with artwork. Crayon drawings, finger paints, but some of them are odd. Red scribbles in circular patterns, shapes that look more like symbols than animals. One has a giant black figure drawn with scratchy lines and tiny words underneath it.

I lean closer.

‘The Bad Ones Are Coming.’