Prologue

PROLOGUE

TAKESHI

2 months ago

Memphis had to be losing his shit in the office right now.

Not only had he gotten stuck on desk duty, but the object of his affection, the sweet Sinclair, was with me at the police station staring at photos of his destroyed apartment.

We were in a musty interrogation room sitting across from a man who introduced himself as Detective Mills. He was not happy to see me show up with Sinclair. I’m unsure if it’s because of some ulterior motive or because he wanted to intimidate the young man.

"Do you know who might want to hurt you, Sinclair? Is there someone you've got a bad past with?" His voice came across annoyed.

Likewise, Detective.

This conversation was unnecessary. There was nothing in the photos to show who had done it, though anyone with a sense of investigative skill could tell it was an outside attack. When people destroyed their own material items — whether in anger or for insurance or even some other reason — their destruction would typically focus on inexpensive items or things that held no emotional value.

Sinclair’s apartment was in tatters. There was nothing truly salvageable.

Even if there had been, I doubt he’d have wanted it since Brad’s touch would make it all tainted. Having seen the reports myself of what the other man had done to Sinclair, anything involving Brad Yancey Jr. was bad news.

The man beside me had gone mute at the images. I’d already quickly scanned over them, so I took over talking to the detective. It was partly why I came. Sinclair would not be bullied by law enforcement under my watch.

“Sinclair was with us at the office during the time of the attack. He's a friend of ours, and he recently needed some help with a project.”

I left out the part about why he needed help. There was no reason to discuss the whole blackmail situation with Detective Mills. It would only make Sinclair look bad.

“What type of project?”

“As an employee of NightShade, I’m obligated to follow client privacy protocol. What I can tell you is little. There is a history here. One filled with abuse and violence, which you’d know if you’d done any research, Detective.”

He sneered. “You're going to have to give us more to go off of, Mr. Takeshi, was it? That story doesn't sound legitimate in the slightest.”

The words triggered the frozen man beside me. He looked up at the detective, his expression full of disgust.

"Do you think we're lying? That I somehow made up a story about abuse and had my own apartment ransacked?"

"That's not what I'm saying. It's just that you haven't given me much of anything to go off of." The detective seemed startled by my friend’s rebuttal. He clearly thought he had the power of intimidation on his side.

Foolish man.

"Not given you much? There are fucking police records of the abuse I suffered. You have pictures, dozens of them, that show how badly that man hurt me. He went to prison. I was supposed to be safe! He wasn't supposed to get out. And the moment he did, he came for me. That thing he claims is his, Detective... those words on the wall... they're about me. He thinks I'm his property, and he won't budge until he has me under his control again."Sinclair’s chest rose and fell quickly after his tirade.

I kept quiet, like a sentry waiting for instructions from my captain. Sinclair would lead the show. My job was to protect him, whether it be from Brad or from the police. The who didn’t matter so much.

“I’m sorry for making it seem like I didn't believe you. No one had made me aware that there was a previous history of abuse or that the person guilty of it was out of prison. Let me go pull some files so I can get caught up. Do you mind waiting for just a bit longer in case I need clarification on anything? You've been hard to reach, Sinclair."

The detective’s comments almost made me laugh. He had no clue of the power behind Sinclair.

It was more than just me working on this. We had the full weight of NightShade at our back. Adding in Detective Stabler meant we had contacts in the FBI, though they were tenuous. Plus, if you factored in all the contacts and favors Tank could pull, well, Sinclair was really fucking safe.

"We will wait," I said after a few tense, silent moments.

Turning to Sinclair, I looked him over to discern how he felt after the argument. Thankfully, the detective took my hint and exited the room.

Softly, I asked, "Are you ok?"

I didn’t much enjoy talking aloud. It was a necessary task for my job at times, but overall, I longed to observe. Watching how people worked and interacted was my superpower. I could ascertain everything I needed to know in a few simple minutes that way.

But talking — there was room for interpretation there.

People could lie.

Their bodies could not.

Sinclair wiped away his tears. I knew Memphis had to be ready to come down here and crack Detective Mills’s head open for making his partner cry. He was more than a touch infatuated with his ‘little barista’ at this point.

"I'm good now. I just hate it when they don't believe me. The first few times I tried to report Brad, the cops all thought I was a joke. They didn't like the fact that I was gay and in here complaining about my 'lover’, so they ignored me. Then I wound up in the hospital, my body so badly broken, there was no denying what happened. Only then did they listen."

Knowing he needed my support; I nodded along as he spoke.

"I believe you. There is a grave misunderstanding in the realm of assault. People believe men to be universally strong. They think nothing would dare harm us outside a bullet or something to that extreme."

"It's unfair.” He was almost pouting for how frustrated he appeared. It wouldn’t be right to smile, so I kept my face neutral.

Sinclair was a lovely man. I could see why Memphis was attached.

He wasn’t my type, though truly, I didn’t have one.

Sexuality was a nuisance most days. On the rare occasions I did feel the desire for that connection, it was usually enough to distract me from everything else.

"You are right. It is unfair. Maybe one day, society will see us as multifaceted. Women have been changing minds for a while now with their fight for equality. Hopefully, we can do the same in our fight for them to see the softer side of us. For them to understand that men can be survivors too."

It was more truth than I gave anyone else. I felt like he deserved it, given the circumstances.

The door opened before he could say anything else. Detective Mills came into view, his expression one of pure shock. A huge bloodstain covered his side, where his hand was pressed tight.

In the two seconds in which I froze, the man collapsed. The person behind him was none other than that stupid fuck, Brad Yancey Jr.

I didn’t have time to move.

Didn’t have a chance to react.

The shot went off, and I watched as the bullet sailed my way. I’ve heard it said that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. That wasn’t the case for me.

What I saw were pieces of a life I never got to live. A future I rarely let myself hope for.

Then there was nothing. Only darkness and pain.