Prologue

My head swivels as I search for Edmond's old Buick. The massive thing is practically impossible to miss, which is weird because he's always here waiting when I make it out of class. At least, on his days. My full-time security team of three tends to take shifts, and today is Eddie's. Unless I messed up the calculations, which I don't think I did.

I frown, spotting Kane's expensive sports car whip into the parking lot. It's flashy and a little ostentatious, but that's Kane in general.

Out of the security guys who came with me to college, he's the closest to my age. He's still a solid eight or nine years older than I am, but he's the only one who doesn't stick out like a sore thumb when he follows me around campus.

Kane is stupidly hot, but his personality is the worst of the three. I actually prefer days when Edmond or Charles are on shift, and not just because the ogling gets tiresome. It's not like Kane needs anyone to boost his ridiculous ego, but he always gets a lot of female attention.

I sigh and hike my shoulder bag back up.

I thought it was a blessing that today was just a drop-off and pick-up day, rather than having one of them standing around outside all my classes. Except, now I have to deal with the dick.

My eyes practically get stuck in my skull with how hard I roll them. It's a freaking state college parking lot, not a street race. Kane brings the car to a stop a few feet in front of me.

I open the door and climb in. "Where's Eddie? It's his day."

Edmond might be three times my age, but I love that old man to pieces. He's the only one of my guards who treats me like an actual human being with a brain.

"Buckle up. He couldn't be pried out of his recliner." Kane shoves the car into gear and takes off. "His favorite contestant was about to win big on some rerun of a game show from the fucking seventies." He chuckles a low, throaty sound. "Sorry, princess. You got me."

"Yay," I deadpan.

No matter how annoyed I am, I'd never actually complain to my parents.

Edmond should have retired by now. He's in his early sixties. Come to think of it, this job probably is retirement for him.

Kane whips around the streets, shifting gears seamlessly. I hate the way my eyes are drawn to his hand as he works the gearshift.

Fine, he has sexy tattooed hands that lead to equally tattooed forearms that are quite muscular, considering his lithe frame.

His blondish-brown hair falls over his forehead as he turns toward me. "How was your day?"

I glance away. Like he cares. "It was fine."

"Did that guy in your writing class ignore you again?" he taunts, taking the turn into our neighborhood. "Is that why you're all sullen teenager? Are you going to stomp off to your room and slam the door when we get home?"

There we go.

The hotness only lasts until he opens his mouth. He's a prime example of one of those guys where the inside is so rotten, it ends up ruining a perfectly gorgeous exterior.

I raise a hand, flipping him off. "I'd rather be ignored by him than be forced to listen to you speak."

"Seriously? He wears khakis with flip-flops. You must be really desperate."

There's something about Kane's condescending tone that makes me sure the world wouldn't miss him.

Derek seemed nice enough during our first few classes, but the one time I tried to talk to him after class, he blew me off. Kane saw the entire thing, and he's never going to let me live it down.

Moving away for college was supposed to be my chance to finally live without constantly being under my family's supervision.

I should have realized I'd be trading one set of jailers for another.

I'm almost nineteen years old, and I've never been out on a date.

Eventually, my heat will start.

They won't be able to keep me from dating and finding a suitable pack forever, but I'd like to live it up and actually enjoy life a little before tying myself to alphas.

Kane's phone buzzes, and he pulls it out. His jaw clenches as he studies the screen. He takes a turn way too fast, slamming the car into gear and pulling his hands up so he can type.

"Texting and driving is a great way to get us both killed. I'm sure your fuck buddy can wait two minutes for a reply."

He grunts, dropping the phone into his lap. It's a tense couple of minutes before he pulls the car into the driveway and stops, but he doesn't climb out.

My head tilts as I grab my bag from the floorboard. He's been weird ever since I climbed into the vehicle.

"Are you coming in or…"

"Nah, I've got a few errands to run," Kane says, nodding to the door. "I'll be back in a few hours, but Edmond and Charles are around."

"Oookay." I frown, but toss open the car door and aim for the open garage.

The cool air tickles against my skin as I climb the few steps to the door that heads into the laundry room of the house.

I glance back over my shoulder, but Kane is already backing his sports car out of the driveway.

That's really not like him.

I smack the button to close the garage and head inside, but my arms prickle with goosebumps.

I frown as I try to figure out what's up.

It's not like he'd tell me anything if I asked.

The culture of the world I grew up in is fairly set in stone. My mom has somewhat managed to force her way into a position of power, but that's only because she has my fathers at her back and, even then, they run the show. At least, in public. Behind closed doors, my family triad is actually quite equally balanced. They each have a skill set, and they trust the others to manage those pieces.

Then again, my mom has no qualms about being viewed as the doting omega trophy wife. It gives her an advantage because everyone always underestimates what a threat she really is. She's just as deadly as either of my fathers and, surprisingly enough, she's got the most cunning mind out of the three of them.

I wouldn't say I'm opposed to violence, but I don't thrive on it like the rest of my family. It's a major reason I moved three states away for college. Without my mother's intervention, I have no doubt that my fathers would have kept me trapped in that house until I was bonded.

Meanwhile, my older brother, Ranger, has always been free to do as he pleases.

It's unfair, but luckily, my mom wasn't having it. She stood her ground, and eventually, my fathers caved with the caveat that I take a handpicked live-in security team with me.

It's not that my dads aren't good guys.

Okay, they aren't bad men, even if they have skewed moral compasses.

They're just overprotective to a fault.

The house is quiet as I head down the back hallway toward the living room. It's ridiculous for a college freshman to live in a 3,500-square-foot mansion, but that's my parents for you. It wouldn't be so bad if I could have roommates.

I'd probably be more popular if I could host parties or even have friends over to hang out.

But I know my security would never stand for it.

I can practically hear Edmond now. Sorry, little bird. There are too many variables. It's not going to happen.

It's hard not to be bitter.

I've always wanted a different kind of life. Organized crime is not for me, even if I haven't been able to forget the lifetime of training forced upon me since birth. My fathers prepared me the same way they did my psychopath brother. It wasn't that I pushed back because I didn't excel at the same types of things Ranger did, but I've also got a conscience, where he and our fathers seem to have none.

My mother and I share an unnatural affinity for numbers and memory recall. She hoped I'd take after her skill set, and I really have.

My entire body freezes as the scent of blood fills my nostrils.

The refrigerator is right around the corner, where this hallway ends in the kitchen to the right and the living room straight ahead. Yanking off my bag as quietly as possible, I put it down. I flatten my back against the wall and try to shimmy far enough to see what's happening.

It's still deathly quiet.

I don't see Eddie or Charles, meaning it's my job to protect myself.

Kicking off my shoes, my socks slide around the tile floor as I bolt back to the laundry room.

There's an AR-15 under the cabinet next to the dryer, but I go for the Glock 19 under the top set. The holster is Velcroed in, and the gun pulls out easily with no noise, since I don't yank out the holster. This model, along with most Glocks, doesn't have click-off safety features. It does have trigger safety, meaning the lever must be fully and equally depressed to fire, but that won't give me away with extra noise until I'm actually using it.

My chest rises and falls in rapid pants as I check the magazine.

It's loaded.

I knew it would be.

Only amateurs keep guns around that aren't ready to be fired at a moment's notice. But even the metallic scratch of checking that could have given me away.

I keep my back against the wall as I move into the hallway and aim for the living room.

Maybe I should have called Kane… I honestly don't know, but the whole situation seems suspect. I make it to the refrigerator once again and peek around.

I swallow audibly as I hold back the wave of nausea that rolls through my entire body. Charles is dead, slumped against the sink cabinets on the right wall of the kitchen floor. He's practically decapitated. My lips push together as I fight to keep from sobbing. He might have been twice my age, but he was nice, and I considered him a friend.

My gaze flies to the door to the garage. The urge to run is strong, but it's not stronger than my need for revenge. My brother was right when he accused me of being more like our family than I was willing to admit. My shoulders pull back as I inch around the refrigerator, scanning for movement.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are." Andretti's voice echoes around the spacious living room. Technically, there are three brothers, but I don't know which one it is.

There was a brief time when my parents considered a union of our families. That union was to be spearheaded by my marriage to the Andretti brothers. Only, that fell to shit when my family realized their family still actively participates in the skin trade. There's been a cold war between our families ever since.

My gaze flies to the hallway on the right. It leads to the bedrooms.

Andretti comes out first, but there's a henchman right on his heels. The man has a switchblade to Edmond's throat, and my heart skips a beat as I sway forward.

Coverage is the first step to survival. It's like I can hear my father's voice echoing in my head as I skid to a stop, crouching behind the kitchen cabinets.

Act first and with ruthless indifference is the second step if you want to live, my dad would say.

I pop up just enough that I can get a clean line of sight.

They're about ten feet away, right in front of the step down into the sunken living room.

"Why are you making this more difficult than it needs to be?" Andretti chuckles ominously, giving me a condescending smile.

Jesus Christ, why the hell do the Andretti brothers have to look so similar? I still have no clue which one is in my house.

"You've got this, little bird," Edmond says, his eyes staring into mine. "I trust you."

He really shouldn't.

I've been slacking.

Since I left the city, I've drastically cut back on the routine that was mandatory growing up.

My family does not fuck around with safety.

But I tried to buck their control, and now poor Edmond will likely pay with his life.

The man currently holding a switchblade to Eddie's artery is too hidden behind Edmond's massive frame for me to accurately get a shot off.

That should be me.

"You might kill him," I say, swallowing thickly. Channel Ranger. Be the badass monster he is. "But you won't walk out of here alive." I try to keep my tone bored and unaffected, like my brother manages with no problem.

Unfortunately for Edmond, I'm not Ranger.

I don't pull it off.

My voice quavers, and the scent of my fear is heavy in the air.

Every impulse in my body screams to run, but I ignore it. My heart thumps wildly and my mouth is bone dry.

This is a damn nightmare.

"You walk out of here with me peacefully, and I give you my word that I will let him live." Andretti nods to Edmond. "I purposely kept him alive. I've watched you closely these last few months. I couldn't allow your mother's attempts to keep us apart, but I'm offering you the opportunity to save him. I know you're fond of him. This is our chance to build trust."

He's completely delusional.

"I will splatter both your brains all over the living room floor," I hiss. "I mean it! Leave now and call today a loss, or we can see how all this plays out."

Edmond gives me a soft smile.

Fuck that smile.

It means he's made peace with the fact he has to die to ensure I survive.

A sob rattles out because I'm too far away to stop him from doing something stupid.

I'm not my brother.

I can't kill in cold blood, but I'm also not going to stand around and watch one of my favorite people be murdered in front of my very eyes.

Edmond has been my guard since I was eleven years old.

I love him like family.

Where the fuck is Kane?

"Put down the gun, and I'll let him live. You'll be coming with me either way." Andretti gives me a cold smile that sends a shiver down my spine. "I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but my brothers handled the issue with your family shortly before I breached the back door. I have video confirmation. Your mother and both your fathers are dead."

My elbow falls against the marble countertop with enough force that the connection would sting if my entire body wasn't numb.

"What?" I whisper, shaking my head.

They've always been larger than life to me.

Completely untouchable.

He's lying to throw you off, my mother's voice says in her calculating tone.

"Put the gun down," Andretti says again. He's not holding a weapon, but that doesn't mean he's not armed. My toes feel cold and wet. My eyes fall to my feet to realize I'm standing in the puddle of Charlie's blood. I pop up, moving to the side a few inches, but keep my gun on Andretti. I'm still standing in the blood, but I can't risk being distracted by it any more than I already have been. "I don't want the first months of our union to be spent forcing you to learn your place. Believe it or not, I'm your best ally for what's coming. I've wanted you for years. My brothers think of you as a conquest and a smart business move, but I want you for you. Put the gun down, so we can be done with this ugliness."

My nearly-waist-length hair falls around my shoulders as my head shakes. I'd rather die than be tied to the Andretti brothers. They'll use me for evil—put me to work running the numbers and helping their businesses. I refuse to participate in forcing women into the sex trade.

"Don't do it," Edmond says. "You know what you have to do, and dropping that weapon isn't it."

"Shut the fuck up," the guy behind him snarls.

My hand wavers as I point directly at Andretti's unprotected skull. I feel lightheaded, like I'm about to pass out from all the stress. I'm not stupid. If I drop my gun, Edmond and I are both dead. My death would just be slower and likely more painful.

"We both know birds are meant to fly. Tell Vanessa I love her and Elijah I'm sorry." Edmond tosses his head back and connects with the face of the man holding him.

"No," I shriek.

Bright red blood sprays out in an arc as the enforcer slits Eddie's throat.

I lock my knees to keep from hitting the floor. Eddie is still struggling, trying to get the knife from the guy.

It's insane how much blood the human body holds…and it's spilling out everywhere.

I don't let myself think it through as I pull the trigger one right after the other. Andretti's face explodes as the two bullets land right next to each other.

The enforcer stabs Eddie again and tosses his body down. That was far from a clean kill. He's covered in blood.

Blowing out a heavy breath, I slide the Glock until my aim is as good as it's going to get and pull the trigger three times. One in each lung and one in the heart. My shots aren't perfect, but they take him to the ground. My feet slip and slide in the blood that I've been standing in.

I make my way over and put a final bullet in the enforcer's forehead. Assuming an enemy is dead is a great way to lose your advantage.

This is all my fault.

Ripping off my shirt, I kneel at Eddie's side. His eyes are already lifeless and glassy, but I still try to apply pressure.

"Please don't die," I whisper. "You can't die! We haven't finished the last season of Yellowstone. I won't ever be able to watch that show again without you." A sob rattles out as tears splash down my cheeks.

It takes a few minutes before it finally clicks.

He's gone.

I fall on my ass, sobbing into my bloody hands.

My head shakes as my entire body trembles, but there's a weird numbness that makes me think I might be in shock. Air isn't saturating my lungs properly, no matter how deeply I gasp for breath.

It's like you want to hyperventilate, my brother's voice echoes in my mind. Slow, deep breaths. You're wasting time. Crying over things that can't be changed gets you nowhere. You either get up and keep yourself alive, or you're saying Eddie's sacrifice meant nothing.

God, I hate him. He's such a condescending fucker. I haven't seen him in months, but I know if he could see me now, that's exactly what he would say.

Loneliness wasn't something I faced growing up, but once I left, I found out just how lonely the world can be. I won't say I never considered going back, but being free of all the violence and constant threats was a huge relief.

Was that independence worth the lives of the good men who just died to protect you? Ranger's voice taunts me in my head all over again.

Maybe I'm losing my shit.

This was a lot.

I guess I could be having a psychological breakdown.

"Fuck. Are you okay?" Kane asks, making my head whip up to locate him. He's covered in blood from a wound on his outer arm and another on his forehead. He's clutching his ribs, and his shirt is torn to hell. "Come on, princess. We gotta move."

He was in on this! my brain screams as my gaze slides to the gun. Somehow it slid out of reach. It's a couple feet away, but he's too close. He would be on me in a second.

"You're in shock." Kane kneels at my side, ripping off his T-shirt. "Are you injured?"

"No," I croak, shaking my head.

He dries my hands of as much blood as possible and tosses it aside.

"We've got to hit the panic room, grab the go-bags, and get the fuck out of here," he says, pulling me to my feet.

It's nearly impossible not to ask if he plans to drag me straight to the remaining Andretti brothers. He guides me to my bedroom. The panic room door pops open when he scans his finger and eye simultaneously. I fall to sit on my bed as I try to figure out how the hell to kill him so I can get away.

Kane has over a foot in height on me, but more than that, he's stacked with lean muscle. Even if I tried to run, I'm fairly sure he'd tackle me within ten feet. My main advantage is that he wants me alive. I need to get the gun on my way by. Not even the switchblade would be a guarantee. He could disarm me before I got the chance to do any real damage.

My heart pangs as my chest gets tight.

Poor Charles and Eddie.

Kane grabs three huge duffel bags and tosses another at my feet. "Sorry, princess. You're going to have to help. We've got to move. The neighbors aren't close, but there are five bodies lying around the yard. If even one person is out walking their dog, we're fucked."

I stand up, grab the bag, and toss it over my shoulder without saying a word. We have to pass Eddie to make it to the hallway, and my stomach rolls uncomfortably.

Kane watches me closely, so I ignore the gun. The go-bags have their own stash of weapons, but I have to catch him unaware.

I don't think it's safe if I ever go back to my hometown. So, how am I supposed to tell Vanessa her father is dead? Elijah is one of the guys who does security for my mom. Eddie was like a surrogate father to him…and he's dead because of me. Charles lies slumped against the kitchen cabinets, and the puddle of blood has grown. He must have died shortly before I walked in. We only live minutes from my school. They must have come in immediately after Kane left to pick me up.

Or he let them in.

"Strip down," Kane says when we enter the laundry room. This room has an attached bathroom with a small stall shower. It's a convenient feature when your family is involved in organized crime. You don't have to track blood all over the house. Doing my best to ignore him, I quickly strip out of my clothes.

I make it into the shower and scrub my hair and body as fast as possible. My hair is the worst part, but I do the best I can.

I come out, wrapped in a towel, and Kane nods to the convenient piles of clothes that he must have set out.

I grab mine and hop into them still wet before wrapping my hair up in a messy bun. Kane drops his bloody clothes and aims for the shower. I wait until the water turns back on and bolt to the living room, grabbing the gun.

Kane is in and out of the shower in two minutes. He comes out with a towel wrapped low around his waist and my gun pointed directly at his heart.

"Why'd you do it? Why would you sell us out?"

"You're a fucking mess." He rolls his green eyes. "Put the gun down. I didn't have shit to do with this disaster."

"Don't lie to me!" I scream as my hand shakes. "Are my parents really gone?"

Kane's blondish-brown hair falls over his forehead as he gives a clipped nod. "They are, but I didn't have anything to do with that, either. I work for Ranger. He's the one who placed me here with you."

My jaw falls as my hand shakes so violently that I'm afraid I'll drop my gun. I bring my other palm up to support my wrist. The edges of my vision go hazy.

"We were on the way here when I got several 9-1-1 calls from your brother, but I couldn't exactly take them with you in the vehicle. I didn't make it two minutes down the street before I turned around. Ranger is alive. I need to bring you to him. I cleared the exterior of the property, praying you were alive."

"My parents are dead," I repeat.

"But you're alive."

"How do I know you're telling the truth about Ranger?"

"He said if I ever needed to prove that I work for him, to tell you he's still sorry for locking you in that shed." His green eyes roll, like he can't believe he's even answering me.

My hand wavers, and the gun dips to point at his stomach instead. "My brother hasn't experienced guilt a day in his life. He's physically incapable of feeling that emotion."

"Yeah, well, I'm not about to dispute that, but my job is to get you to him. Ranger is going to keep you safe. I need to put some fucking clothes on, so we can bail." Kane tilts his head, studying me carefully.

"No," I croak, shaking my head. "No. I'm not doing this again." My voice comes out much firmer as conviction pulses through my system. Each go-bag has twenty grand in cash, a few more in prepaid untraceable gift cards, and replacement fake IDs for the four of us. "You can go back to my brother and tell him that I'm officially done with this family."

"You know I can't let you walk away. Ranger would kill me the second I made it back without you."

I grab the bag and move toward the door to the garage, stretching a hand back to turn the handle. "He can kill you or I will. I'm serious, Kane. Don't follow me."

"You're every bit the pain in the ass he promised you'd be," Kane growls, taking a step forward.

I pull the trigger with zero remorse. He staggers back as blood splatters the wall. Okay, maybe I feel a little guilty as he groans, clutching at his side.

"We both know you can survive that shot," I say, backing down the stairs. "The next one will be a kill shot." I slam my hand against the button to open the garage door.

"That's it, princess. You're abso-fucking-lutely going over my knee before I deliver you. You fucking shot me." He sounds furious, and that only fuels my need to get the hell out of here.

I bolt down the stairs, out of the garage, and climb into his car.

I spot him staggering down the steps, clutching his side.

What a stubborn asshole.

I turn the car on and shift into reverse. My hands shake, but I pull the lever, moving the seat up so I don't have to stretch to reach the pedals.

The East Coast hasn't really done me any favors. Tears prickle in my eyes as I navigate out of the neighborhood. I don't even know what I'm doing, but I do know if I went back to my brother, that would only be trading one cage for another.

I want a family of my own, and not to have to worry about them being massacred at every turn.

I want a chance to really live.

This is my chance to make a new life.

Sparrow Cavanaugh is officially dead.