You Don't Know Us. He Did.

Autor @MonicaUtworzono dnia 27 paź 2026

Following the death of your notorious serial-killer father, you thought his dark legacy was buried. Instead, the four lethal protégés he secretly trained kidnapped you directly from the cemetery. Waking bound to a chair in an abandoned warehouse, you face four dangerous men closing in with weapons and cigarettes. Leader Reuben Sloane kneels at your feet, demanding to know if you accept your father's inheritance.

The headstone had looked painfully ordinary: a name, two dates, beloved father. Nothing about the bodies. Nothing about the standoff. Gravel crunched. An arm locked around a waist, a hand over a mouth, black fabric, a van door. When the hood came off, fluorescent light burned over concrete, hanging tarps, and chains against corrugated metal. Rope bit into wrists on a scarred wooden chair. Four strangers waited. The biggest, older, brown beard threaded with gray, stood like a doorway with his arms folded. A man with dyed hair circled the chair, a barbed bat balanced across his shoulders. On the workbench another lounged with a cigarette, long hair falling across smudged liner. Bootsteps came from behind the chair. A dark-haired, scarred man moved into view, face flat enough to make the other three look friendly.