Prologue

Ghost

I t's interesting how oblivious most people are to the world around them. Wandering in public places, faces locked on their screens. Technology has made them addicts, needing their fix of dopamine to get through the day. They post pictures of the food they eat, places they visit, and events they plan, all while too distracted to actually live in those moments.

It certainly makes my job easier.

In the world we live in, people need to be paranoid and more aware of their surroundings. If they stopped to look around every now and again, they might see something, learn something, or feel something.

These days, blending into any crowd requires simply wearing a hoodie, some headphones, and an illuminated screen in front of my face.

Today, it makes following her child's play. I can tell she's used to being invisible, overlooked, just part of the sidelines. What's more, I can tell she prefers it that way. She keeps her eyes downcast and her free hand firmly on the strap of her carry-on bag as she travels past security to locate her gate.

Her wild brown hair sits tangled on the top of her head, and she, like the rest of the sheep gathered today at the Harry Reid International Airport, has on an oversized hoodie and leggings.

Just like the last time I saw her.

As we find ourselves herded toward the trams, I move casually behind her. Allowing her to gain a bit of distance and not alerting her to my presence here today. Not that she's paying attention. Her phone's out, and she's sliding through screens as she wanders toward Gate D.

For a moment, her attention flies up to scan the overhead signs that guide our travel onto the Red Line Tram. I slow my pace again and feign interest in my phone, taking the time to discreetly scan the other ticket holders. She doesn't appear to have anyone traveling with her, which both irritates and surprises me.

The Vegas Pack Alpha isn't usually so careless with security.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, I spot him. The shifter, I'm betting, is here to protect her. He's doing a proficient job of staying close to her without alerting her to his presence. His problem, he looks like a bodyguard. His eyes scan over the people in the area, track where the cameras are, and constantly search for a threat.

Rule #9: Blend into what's typical for the given environment.

That's the problem with new recruits; they have no finesse. Fortunately for him, she appears too preoccupied with getting to her gate to notice the tail. But I know this: if he's keeping a low profile, she refused to have a security detail, and Dante sent one anyway.

This poor guy is in for it when she realizes.

I smile to myself, mentally popping popcorn because I'm hoping I will get a front-row seat to the exchange. I guess we will have some in-flight entertainment on the way to Boston after all.