Prologue

T he memory of gunshots reverberates in my mind, the images of dead bodies stack up as I sit on a bar stool of a shitty dive bar in downtown LA. My hand grips the glass of whiskey that I've been nursing for hours. The music is blaring through the speakers; the angry screams from the Metallica song turns into the agonized cries of those I've killed. The heavy beating of the drums become the continuous rapid-fire of the assault rifles going off in the distance, and there's a mist surrounding me that I know isn't really there, but thickens and turns into the smog of residue from the deadly explosions.

Every day during my time in the special forces was a challenge. I had originally enlisted as a way to control my violent impulses, which helped sort out my anger in a way but also fueled my bloodlust for fierce brutality, and numbed every other part of my being .

However, a few years after I had finished boot camp, I had been recruited to a Special Task Force that was so classified that only the top ranking officers knew about it. The missions we were sent on were just that, missions, until it caused our moral compass to explode, along with the bodies of the innocent. Sure, it was either shoot, or be shot at but the eyes of my victims still haunt me. The innocent deaths are the ones that plague me, and are the main reason that I finally made my decision to walk away.

Keep yourself alive.

Those words occupied my thoughts constantly towards the end of my time at the task force, but I had to find a way to continue the violence that I've craved since I was a child. An excuse, really. My mind is constantly at war with the events of my past; every despicable act I've witnessed and executed has led me to my current fucked up mental state. Control became my need. Every day and aspect of my life is now entirely planned out, regimented all the way down to the very last second.

An intentional, forceful pat on my back shifts my focus. Kai squeezes my shoulders hard enough to remind me of where I am. Kai has fought by my side ever since we met in basic training, and then both of us were recruited for the same task force. Since then he's become like a brother to me, one that has saved my life countless times and killed alongside me. We will do anything for each other, even though we know that we're both seriously fucked up in our own special ways.

Kai's hazel eyes stare down at me with concern as he adjusts his black shirt making sure that nothing is out of place. "I'm heading out, E." Kai smirks, winking at the red head he's been eye fucking from across the bar since he arrived while giving my shoulder another squeeze.

Our day had been full of paperwork on paperwork to solidify our new personal security business for those who are rich enough to afford us, and popular enough to guarantee us a little violence. Now that civilian life is our new normal, this was the perfect way to ease the bloodlust that we crave and that the task force further nourished.

He happily turns towards the red head, and walks his cocky ass over to her. " Let's celebrate," he'd said to me earlier, so now here I am moving my scheduled nightly routine at the gym just to be left out to dry while this asshole gets laid.

"Blowing me off for pussy, fucking asshole," I loudly mumble, willing him to hear me even though I know he can't. When he reaches her, he wraps his arms around her slim waist. He glances at me before they walk towards the exit, before opening the door for her he flips me off from behind her back.

Fucking asshole.

I bring the glass to my lips and finish the amber liquid in one swallow. I welcome the woodsy taste as the burn fills me with a temporary warmth.

" CAAAATT !" The bartender's squeals overpowers the beat of the new song playing in the distance and redirects my attention while I bring the empty glass away from my mouth. I place it gently on the bar and follow her line of sight, pausing when I notice the most stunning woman entering the room. Her jet-black hair is curled ever so slightly, with a lock of her hair pushed behind one ear as the rest frames her perfect face. The dimmed light of the bar has her skin glowing as if she just left the beach even though it's about 10p.m. I can't quite make out the color of her eyes with the distance between us, but what I can see is long, thick lashes; her cute, pert, button nose and her plump red lips which have my cock twitching in my slacks. She's wearing a blood red off the shoulder shirt, her cleavage almost pouring out of that tight little blouse, and faded, ripped jeans that shows off her beautifully round ass.

The bartender and Cat- Catherine? Katie? - talk back and forth. I can't hear a word of what she might be saying, but every part of me wants to know what this angel sounds like.

Who is she? Where is she from?

I'm utterly mesmerized by this woman. It's not even just her looks, but the way she walked into the room, confidence and energy just radiating off her. She looks so innocent and pampered, like a princess who's come down from her tower.

I want to corrupt her, tear her apart, then put her back together again.

Biting my tongue, I place a hundred-dollar bill under my empty glass and walk towards the exit of the bar. I can't even hide the smirk on my face knowing I found a new pet to play with. It's been a long time since I've had something other than bloody violence to excite me, but it seems my luck has taken a turn.

I'll find you, Princess and when I do, I'll fucking bring you to your knees.