With Ties that Bind: A Broken Bonds Novel, Book Two by Trisha Wolfe

Author:Trisha Wolfe [Wolfe, Trisha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-10-09T21:00:00+00:00

11

Id

Alpha

Think about the thing you want most—the one thing that will fulfill you. Not the dream car, spouse, home, kids… Fuck the mundane. What is your greedy little black heart’s desire?

Now break it down. What would it take to obtain it? Chances are, there’s one common denominator for everyone: money. If you dream big enough, we’re talking a certain kind of money. A special brand of green.

Wealth.

There are seven billion people on the planet. A record high. And only a pocket of humans in existence can truly call themselves wealthy.

Why is this wealth not more evenly distributed across the globe?

Because when faced with the challenges put before them, most fail to overcome their obstacles. You have to tear down barriers, eradicate the competition, stop at nothing to obtain your goal.

Very few possess this quality.

Do you want to know the secret?

It is the id. The id is greedy by nature. The id wants what it wants and has no moral limitations. The id is the most basic, carnal aspect of our personality. It demands to be satisfied. Leave it to Freud to name this selfish beast, giving credence to our pleasure principle.

We all harbor this demon—but it’s only the select few who will feed it, nurture it, and benefit from it.

I think about the id often, whenever confronted with new challenges. Like a certain gluttonous leach who’s been feeding off my territory. Suckling at my empire. Slowly draining my revenue.

My ego would have me ignore him; he’s a little pissant, nothing more than an irritant. He’s not worthy of my attention. But my id knows better. It scents a possible threat to the ecosystem that’s feeding it. And it demands to be satisfied.

“Our seven novices are right on time.” I tap the screen and enlarge the image. The cameras at the marina aren’t of the best quality, but I’m able to make out the gluttonous leach boarding the vessel. Slicked back hair. Tailored suit. Too much jewelry. Classic ghetto chic. I scoff. He watches too many movies. “And so is our friend.”

Donovan loads a round into his gun. “Should I shake him up a bit?”

It wouldn’t be a bad idea; make the pick-up more interesting. Let him believe he’s truly making his mark on my territory. “Have the boys send him a greeting,” I say, panning the camera to the boat. “But make sure he sets up at the warehouse on time. I want to stay on schedule.”

Donavan collects more ammunition, then sets off.

When the first girl is carted off the boat, I feel a stab of regret. I’m always there to greet my girls. I inspect all merchandise and oversee the branding personally. Exceptions must be made, however. My current circumstance prevents my participation.

I zoom in, getting a glimpse of my signature on the girl’s thigh. My hands tighten on the device. I don’t like doing things out of order. Having my routine disrupted. But I’m willing to accept this detour from my original objective to achieve my overall goal.

A panicked shout sounds from the back.

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