Chapter One

Reed

Sweat trickles down the side of my face. It's summer, and even in the middle of the night, the air is thick and sticky, making this job a little more complicated. My pulse races when I hear the cracking of bone and see the onslaught of blood that follows. A satisfying night's work. Everything went according to plan. The darkness inside me will be tamed for a few more days, and in return, Rogue, a secret organization of experts who hide individuals and families from criminals and other dangerous groups of people, is safe for a few more days as well.

I often wonder if they understand how many times a week, or even a day, I have to stop their operation from being unraveled. I know it's an ongoing issue that Ciaran and Matt Jakobe, the founding family of Rogue, have been working on for years. The sad and disgusting truth is that there are groups of people out here who know someone is destroying their criminal empires, and they are hunting Rogue down as fast as Rogue is working to protect the lives of those under their charge. Which is where I come in. I handle the bloody, gritty, disgusting tasks that none of Rogue's other employees can stomach doing, or are even aware of. I manage to move under the radar of even the best Rogue operatives and I can blend in well with the criminal underground. Physically, I look average, like any male in his twenties, with facial hair. It's the dark stain on my soul, the dangerous void in my eyes that connects me to them. One look and I am able to move freely in their circles because they believe I am one of them. To them, I have no name, no face; I am just a being living anonymously in the shadows. A ghost, for all intents and purposes, who is protecting the good guys. But don't think I do it out of the goodness of my heart; I have no heart or conscience. And let's face it…I'm really just a glorified serial killer. I enjoy making criminals and some of the most disgusting humans of this world pay for what they've done. My intentions are to protect Rogue because they save the people that even Witness Protection can't. So heart of gold, right?

I look one more time at the three lifeless bodies that litter the cement floor of the abandoned warehouse. My blood sings in my veins at the sight of their dead eyes, mouths opened in shock, and the angry expression frozen on their faces. My job is done for tonight.

After stepping out of the warehouse, and into the humid summer night, I lock the door behind me. Judging by the location, it could be months before anyone discovers the bodies. I wipe down the handles with bleach, even though I wore gloves, leaving nothing to chance. Once I get to my stolen vehicle for the night, my fingers dip into the pocket of my black jeans, and I pull out my burner phone.

Unknown: It's done.

I fire off a quick text to Matt before turning the phone back off and sliding it into my pocket again. I always text Matt. Even though he is, technically, retired from being an active Rogue member, I still go to him. I owe it to Matt since he's the one who ultimately saved me. Early on, he recognized the path I was walking and helped shape me into who I am today. Without his guidance, I wouldn't have figured out a positive way to channel the void I was feeling. He recognized the emptiness inside me and was able to help me use it for purposes that helped innocent people instead of hurting them. It's not that I don't trust Ciaran or Silas or Kai, but I don't know if they understand what I do and why I do it, like Matt does. They weren't there when I was found by Matt's sister, and they never checked in on me as we were growing up. To them, I have always been a high-profile target, someone who is top priority to protect; they never saw me as the toddler rescued from death but stained by blood. Matt always asks me to share my trauma and what I remember from the day I lost my parents and perhaps in the future, I might. I just need to see how things go with this change in management for Rogue.

Speaking of Ciaran…my other phone that is resting in the cup holder keeps vibrating. I glance down at it again. Ciaran is the only one who calls me on that phone. It's from my days of living in their city, when I was under their protection. Only two people have that number and only one person calls me on it now. The other hasn't talked to me since I broke her heart. The phone vibrates again and I glance at it once more, ignoring the pin prick of guilt in my mind. Do I have time to answer? I should really get onto a main road and then ditch this car before it's reported stolen.

Always put safety first. Do not get caught.

I live by the rules engrained in me. Ciaran will have to wait. I drive back into a seedy part of Kansas City and find a spot hidden enough for what I'm about to do. I wipe down the inside of the car with bleach, get rid of all the evidence and dispose of anything that will burn inside the car. I never leave evidence that can link me or Rogue to a job. I douse it with gasoline and set a match to it. Once the flame hits the liquid, it doesn't take long for the fire to spread. I check my surroundings then turn my back on the exploding car and get out of there as fast as I can.

It takes me an hour to reach the outskirts of the city, where my lucky charm, a white, vintage 67' Impala is waiting. I run my hand over the hood, happy to see that it remains unscratched and in good condition. Once I'm in and driving to the nearest exit, ready to leave this state, I reach for my phone and hit call on Ciaran's number.

"That took you long enough," he answers the phone, his tone gruff and laced with a hint of panic.

"I had a problem I was fixing," I remind him. It hasn't been long since the little mess-up that occurred with one of Rogue's missions. At that time the only intel I had given them indicated there was a black-market ring that specialized in selling human organs and body parts. When Ciaran and his team arrived at the hidden location, no one, including me, was aware of the ritual killings that were taking place in a back room, behind the freezers of body parts. It also happened to be that one of Rogue's newest members had gotten drunk the night before and disclosed to the woman he had been seeing for a few months about his mission. The woman must have talked to the wrong person, which led to the leaders of this particular ring escaping before Rogue could close in on them. That was months ago, but I finally found them tonight.

Ciaran sighs over the phone; I can't tell if he's exasperated or if he's relieved. "We have a new problem now."

Tingles spread over my body. A new hunt. A new thrill. "Send me the details."

"It's not the usual," he mutters, and I hear what sounds like him walking. "Look, it's about Mila. Kelly came home and can't find her. Some of her clothes and books are missing and she's gone."

I don't immediately panic like normal people would. Just because she's not there, doesn't mean she's missing. Mila likes to do many things and she doesn't let her wheelchair or her prognosis keep her from doing them. Her determination and resilience is what drew me to her in the first place. Like a moth to a flame. Only I was the flame in this situation, keeping her around me while I studied her. I spent a whole summer trying to figure out why she unnerved me. The way her eyes seemed to be able to reach inside me. I felt awake as if after years of being on my own, I had just been sleeping. When I finally allowed myself to look back at her, to really look and not just study, I found my answer. She was just like me. A darkness was buried in her eyes and I knew it wouldn't be hard to convince her to come along on one of my missions. In the end, that was also why I pushed her away. I didn't want to pull her over to my dark side where she would be forced to live in the shadows.

"I'm sure she's fine," I tell him, my voice calm. It will be a while before I get back home and pull up the little tracker I have on her and find her location. Ciaran doesn't know, neither does Mila. As long as she hasn't found it, I'll be able to find her.

"I don't have a good feeling about this, Reed. Kelly has been saying for months that something hasn't been right with Mila. And now she just leaves?" He sighs again, then silence drops between us. This is probably one of those moments where I should offer some reassurances. Or say something comforting. The longer the silence stretches, the weirder it gets. Something like discomfort blankets the silence. I'm conflicted on if he wants me to say more, but there really isn't much I can do.

"I'll take a look and see if anything pops up when I get back to my place," I throw out, hoping maybe that's all he wants. There's another pause and I have to hold my breath.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he finally agrees, "let us know if you find anything. Saylor is checking in with Mila's friends and her new college roommate. Maybe she just left for the semester early or something."

I wince, imagining how embarrassed Mila would probably be to hear that. "Okay. Well, I will let you know." The line dies on his end, and I set the phone back down. It's a long drive back to my place in Arizona from Missouri. My fingers itch for my laptop, and suddenly, I feel too constrained in the car. Mila is smart. She's more calculating than anyone gives her credit for. I can't see her doing anything drastic, but it's that thought that sends my blood rushing. I can already envision sliding my knife into any poor fucker who took her. With one glance in my rearview mirrors, my foot increases its pressure on the gas pedal as I race home.