It was supposed to be spring—when flowers bloomed and the cold weather gave way to warmth and sunshine, but Mother Nature apparently wasn’t having that.

Already, Luna missed Bora Bora and being able to walk into the ocean from the bungalow. She missed the silence of the nights when she could enjoy being alone with Kit.

With her husband.

Husband.

That they were married now still baffled her.

Despite the promised high, it was still fifty degrees outside, and to make matters worse, the skies had finally opened up, freezing droplets raining down.

Not for the first time during her long trek into the city, Luna regretted climbing onto her bike and venturing into the city. Even with a helmet, gloves, and leather jacket, she was still soaked through by the time she arrived at the address where Uilleam had sent her.

The street was mostly empty besides the few cars along the curb. Parking her bike, she waited until she was inside the building before removing her helmet, the wet ends of her hair wetting her shirt.

The office space—though she wasn’t entirely sure it was an office—was barren. During the few times Uilleam had called on her personally throughout the years, she would often find him in swanky locations that seemed expensive just to look at.

This place, whatever it was, didn’t seem to fit what she knew about him.

More importantly, he was nowhere to be seen.

Popping her head back out to make sure she was in the right location, Luna frowned as she reached for her phone, but stopped when she heard the click of heels.

“I’m sorry,” a woman said as she came around the corner, eyeing her from top to bottom. “We’re closed for renovations.”

Luna might have been willing to believe that had there been a sign of some kind—and if she wasn’t dealing with The Kingmaker.

“I’m looking for a friend,” Luna said, “maybe you know him?”

“Who’s your friend?”

“The Kingmaker.”

Now, the woman’s expression shifted. “A moment, please.” She disappeared back around the way she had come, only to return not long after. “Come with me.”

It would be just like Uilleam to plan this dramatic meeting when he could have told her about the assignment through an encrypted email—it wouldn’t be the first time.

With a roll of her eyes, Luna followed after the woman, then down a flight of stairs. Now she was beginning to see what was hidden behind the empty façade.

Tucked around the corner and away from prying eyes, there was a row of doors on either side of the narrow hallway.

They stopped in front of one marked 2B, where the woman rapped on the door twice before twisting the handle. “Sir, you have a visitor.”

Uilleam’s voice sounded from inside the room. “Send her in.”

The woman stepped to the side, waving for Luna to go in. Not sure what to expect—because no one could anticipate what Uilleam got into—she entered hesitantly, trying to make sense of what she saw inside the smoky interior.

Uilleam was there, but he wasn’t alone. There were two women lounging on either side of him, both wearing frilly lace and nothing more. One had a hookah pipe tucked between full lips as she drew in the smoke, water bubbling inside, and the other was running oiled hands down Uilleam’s back and further still …

Luna jerked her gaze away, but not before she got an eyeful of his toned backside in all its glory. Unfortunately, there was a rather large mirror hanging on the opposite wall, so that did little for her.

“I’ve been waiting ages, Luna,” Uilleam said as he rolled over onto his back, making her eyes widen as she got an unobstructed view of everything he hid beneath expensive suits.

Focusing her attention on the assortment of silk pillows on the other side of the room, she kept it there. “In case you didn’t realize, it’s pouring down outside. You’re lucky I got here when I did.”

Uilleam laughed. “Fair enough. Where—is there a reason you’re refusing to look at me?” He asked, seeming to only realize now that she wasn’t facing him.

“Are you kidding?” Luna asked, feeling the flush in her cheeks as she visualized the rippling contours of his abdomen. “You’re naked.”

He scoffed, as though her reasoning was absurd. “I once held a meeting between two warring families on a private beach on the coast of France. Neither was willing to work with the other because they were both notorious for killing their enemies during sit-downs.”

Luna’s mouth twitched. “So you decided to have it at a nude beach?”

She could hear him moving around, the rustle of clothing before he was suddenly at her side wearing only a pair of slim-fitting pants.

“It was the only way I could guarantee that each party respected the arrangement I had set up.” His smile was rueful as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Unless, of course, they decided to get a little creative.”

“Clever,” she had to admit.

Uilleam touched her hand, lifting it to get a better look at the ring that now adorned her finger. Even in the low light of the room, the diamond sparkled.

“A shame I wasn’t invited to the wedding,” he said, looking from the ring to her. “I’m sure you looked beautiful.”

Luna smiled at the compliment. If there was something to be said about Uilleam, he had always been kind to her—blunt sometimes to the point of rudeness, but always kind.

“It was a surprise to me too,” Luna found herself saying. “There wasn’t really any time to invite anyone.”

“Trust me. This may have been a surprise for you, but my brother is a planner—this would have been in the works for months. It really is a shame,” he said softly, letting her hand drop.

Luna lost her smile. “That we got married?”

Uilleam looked at her, really looked at her, which made her a little nervous as to what his answer would be. “No, a shame that you have a job to do.”

Right. Of course. That was why she was here. “What is the job, exactly?”

“I’ll fill you in on all the details later, or Skorpion can.” He glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. “He should have been here by now.”

“He’s in town?”

She hadn’t known Uilleam had called on Skorpion too, not that he would have told her otherwise—The Kingmaker’s moves were known only to him—but Skorpion would have.

Of everyone at the Den, Skorpion was the one she was closest to—like the older brother she had never had.

Though, to be fair, most of the mercenaries that called the Den home were like brothers, though she didn’t see them nearly as much.

“I can’t imagine we would both fit on that bike of yours,” he said with a smirk, going over to retrieve his shirt and shrugging it on. “Tell me, how on earth did you convince my brother to allow you to drive that thing? I can’t imagine he hadn’t tried to talk you out of it.”

Kit had, in fact—and he may have gotten his way had she not shown him how thankful she could be if he gave her what she wanted.

The next morning, the white Ducati had been waiting for her in the driveway.

Leaving his inquiry unanswered, Luna asked, “What are you doing back so early anyway? I thought you were in Shanghai this week?”

A look of annoyance crossed his features. “I see my uncle has yet to curb his habit of telling you my business.”

“He doesn’t tell me everything,” she reassured, “only what may concern your brother, so I know what to expect.”

Because when the two of them fought, it could get ugly, especially if it had anything to do with their businesses overlapping.

Luna still didn’t understand the intricate details and boundaries that allowed the pair of them to work together—or separately, as it were—but she did understand that precautions were in place to ensure that neither stepped on the other’s toes.

Though sometimes it felt like that was all they ever did.

“Ladies.”

Luna turned at the slow drawl coming from the man that had to duck his way into the room, a slow grin curling his lips as he removed his hat.

He hardly glanced in Uilleam’s direction, though he did wink at Luna, before he was giving the two women on the floor his full undivided attention, and infamous charm.

Skorpion was a big man, over six feet tall with the body mass of a professional football player. It also didn’t help that he looked rather terrifying, but underneath the gruff exterior was a teddy bear that cared more about surfing than anything else.

When he wasn’t under contract, he could usually be found hunting the best waves—the man spent nearly as much time surfing as he did working—and staying off the grid.

“Now that everyone is here,” Uilleam said as he grabbed his suit jacket off the back of a chair. “Let’s discuss.”

Uilleam left the room first, Luna following, and Skorpion after, though he had to jog to catch up after spending a moment longer with the women in the room.

“It’s been long in the making,” Uilleam continued, starting up the flight of stairs. “But it’s finally time.”

“Time for what?”

“Your debt to come due,” he answered, stopping at the top to glance down at her. “This will be … difficult for you, but once this is done, you’ll finally be free of that time in your life.”

“I thought I was already free of that time?”

The smile he offered her wasn’t his trademark grin, nor did she see his usual humor. “Not quite.”

“Just strange,” Skorpion muttered from behind her, making her smile despite herself.

Uilleam shook his head. “We can discuss it more on the flight.”

The flight? “What flight?” Luna asked.

“To California,” Uilleam elaborated once they finally cleared the stairs.

“Kit’s there, actually,” she said. Coming back from Bora Bora, while she had taken a car back to his penthouse apartment in the city, he had taken another jet out of the state.

“I’m sure he is,” Uilleam mumbled as he laid a hand on the door and pushed it open, stepping out into the rain.

A familiar black muscle car was parked just about a block down, but it wasn’t there that Luna’s gaze was drawn.

It was to the motorcycle and its rider idling at the stoplight.

Even through the rain, she could see that the light was still yellow, but the rider stayed there—and though he seemed to be facing straight ahead, Luna couldn’t shake the notion that they were being watched.

He was all a blur for a moment before she wiped at the water dripping from her eyelashes and got a decent look at him. It was a man, that much she could see even at her distance from his build and the way he straddled his bike.

He also wore all black, from his boots up to the helmet that covered his entire head, and the gloved hands he had wrapped around the handlebars.

Just sitting there …

As though he were waiting …

Luna realized almost a moment too late as Uilleam cleared the door and the moment he did, the rider pulled a gun, silencer firmly attached the end of it.

“Uilleam!”

Not once in the years she had known his name had she ever used it when it wasn’t only the pair of them. That, coupled with the way she shouted it, had the man in question jolting to a stop, his gaze snapping to where she was looking.

But it was too late.

The rider squeezed off rounds in rapid succession, glass exploding as one of the rounds went through the car separating him from his target—but even that one didn’t miss.

Someone screamed, Skorpion shouted a command for her to stay where she was, and the last thing she heard before the blood rushing in her ears drowned everything out was Uilleam’s grunts as multiple bullets plugged their way into his body.

Luna didn’t pause to think about what she was doing, merely shot out the door with her gun raised, squeezing the trigger before she even had a clear shot. She might not have hit the driver, but she did get his attention.

And it was enough to send him speeding off, his tires burning rubber as he disappeared nearly as quickly as he came.

Once she could no longer see him, her concentration broke, bringing her back to the present where Uilleam was still on the ground.

But before she could get to him, Skorpion snatched her back with one hand, and despite her persistence, there was no resisting someone with his strength.

“Stay there,” he ordered. “Use your phone and dial star-seven-six-four and give them this address.”

Skorpion dashed out, dragging Uilleam up with ridiculous ease.

With shaking hands, Luna did as he asked, though she didn’t understand who, exactly, she was calling. She thought he might have misspoken had it not been for the man that answered on the second ring.

She gave their address, making sure to mention that she was calling about The Kingmaker before the person on the other line hung up the phone.

Skorpion stripped out of his shirt, tearing it to shreds as he packed it along Uilleam’s front. There was blood everywhere, so much blood, that Luna couldn’t see anything else.

She couldn’t understand how someone who had lost so much blood could still be awake.

“Calavera, hey! Get over here.”

He didn’t give her a chance to do just that before he was dragging her across the floor, guiding her hands down onto the bloody bundles of cloth that were quickly getting soaked through.

“Keep pressure on these,” he said with fierce eyes, making sure she understood.

“Scar, he’s—”

It was rare that she used her nickname for Skorpion—a play on the first half his moniker—but she was terrified, more so than she had ever been in her life, and she desperately needed him to tell her that Uilleam would be all right.

That he would walk away from this as he had so many other run-ins with his enemies.

The Kingmaker was infallible—he was without equal.

But as she stared down at terrified eyes, she couldn’t help but think even gods bled.

---

All good things came to an end …

It had taken Kit until now to realize how true those words were, but with Uilleam calling Luna in for a job, he finally decided to stop ignoring the work he needed to get done.

That didn't mean he was pleased.

He was a bit annoyed with his brother for calling her in, but he knew better than to complain. Uilleam would then make it his personal mission to ensure she was always on an assignment if only to annoy him.

Annoyed though he was, he couldn’t complain too much. It had been because of Uilleam that he had found a wife. Despite the time it consumed, it was this job that had ultimately brought her to him.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Bora Bora,” Aidra said with a sigh, looking through pictures of the tropical island on her tablet as they rode through the hills of Santa Monica, on their way to a private lounge that was nestled away from the city. “I hear the water is lovely there.”

“I’m sure Fang would gladly take you, should you ask.”

She glared at him, though her twitching told him it wasn’t serious. “If he ever got any off time. Amazing that you can just take off in the middle of the night, but we have to be available at a moment’s notice.”

Now, he smiled. “It pays to be the boss. But should you have a date in mind, let me know and I’ll make sure you’re free.”

Aidra laughed softly. “Married life is agreeing with you. I should have made you do this sooner.”

Driving up the twisting road toward the Spanish villa, Kit’s thoughts turned to Luna, as they often did.

Remembering the smile on her face, the way her eyes lit up when he’d shown her the ring, he didn’t think anything else had ever made him as happy.

Signaling before turning into the parking lot, Kit found a spot right in the thick of the other cars, ensuring that his wouldn’t stand out too much amongst the others.

“Caesar Rivera,” Aidra reminded him as they exited the car and started across the lot, her demeanor shifting from playful to serious. “He wants your assistance with moving cargo—and by cargo, I mean girls.”

This she said hesitantly, peeking up at him from the corner of her eye.

Kit’s steps didn’t falter. “You should have told me this sooner.”

Had she, it would have saved them a trip.

From the moment Luna walked into his life, he had slowly—though at the time he hadn’t immediately recognized what he was doing at the time—distanced himself from particular clients that were once on retainer, and potential clients that sought his aid when it came to trafficking women across borders.

He hadn’t cared before, who those women were or where they came from, but once she was there with him, he could only imagine that one or any of those girls was someone’s Luna.

He made not have been able to shut them all down, but he could avoid aligning himself with them.

“Some of his background has only just gotten to me—sorry.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Kit said.

She wasn’t to blame for this, but he would make sure that after this meeting, people of similar ilk wouldn’t come to him for aid in this matter.

A bald man and a tattoo on his neck glanced at them as they passed, a single nod telling Kit they were permitted to enter.

Inside the smoky interior of the lounge, bottle girls in leotards and high heels served drinks with a smile and wink. It was a gentleman’s establishment, that was complete with a rich wooden interior, a wall full of aged wine, and a sitting area that allowed an unobstructed view of the girls that were slightly bent over at the bar, waiting for orders to be filled.

Close to his side, he felt Aidra brush his arm, a silent cue for him to look where her gaze directed, but he had looked up Caesar Rivera before they arrived—though only enough to find a picture.

He sat closer to the rear of the room, his table on a raised platform that reminded Kit of a dais. He had a thick mustache, the hair nearly covering his entire upper lip, then extending down along the sides of his mouth.

Even when he smiled, the man still looked displeased.

Upon first glance, Kit could tell this was not an establishment that Caesar frequented, not when the lot of the room was clad in suits while he wore clothes that were clearly expensive, but not note worthy.

Wiping his hands and then his mouth, with a linen napkin that he plucked from his lap, Caesar tossed it on the table as he stood, his gaze landing on Kit almost immediately.

Kit could just see the flash of gold around the man’s throat, and that coupled with the gold rings on his fingers and a large watch, he could also see that Caesar was not a man he would ever do business with.

It went beyond his involvement with human trafficking—the man was entirely too blatant with his wealth. And over the years, Kit had learned that those that so happily showed the world how much they were worth, made the most mistakes.

This man didn’t understand subtle.

“We won’t be staying long,” Kit said to Aidra as he rested a hand on her back and guided her in that direction.

Before they could get within feet of the man, one of Caesar’s security—a man that looked like wide-eyed and trigger happy—stopped them.

“Weapons,” he said in what he thought was a menacing voice, his head held high as though he meant to look down at them.

“One well placed punch and I can break his trachea,” Aidra said in Welsh, with a hint of anticipation in her voice, her gaze locked on the idiot that probably thought she was helpless.

“Maybe after,” Kit returned with a smirk in the man’s direction, more than happy to hand over his gun.

It wasn’t as if he would need it—he’d faced worse odds once before.

Aidra huffed, but didn’t hand over her gun, though she didn’t stop there. Instead, she removed nearly every weapon that she had strapped to her body. And as the man’s eyes widened in surprise, a trace of fear flooding in, she smiled and moved around him.

“I apologize for my man there,” Caesar said once they were at his table, his attention on Aidra for the moment. “He is cautious.”

He took her hand in his, pressing whiskered lips against the back of it before he turned to Kit with a boisterous smile, as though the pair of them were old friends.

“Señor Phoenix—is that right? A pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard great things.”

Kit didn’t return the sentiment. “You’ve asked for a meeting—you have ten minutes.”

Some of Caesar’s good nature dimmed as a flash of his temper showed. Undoubtedly, he wasn’t used to being the one on the receiving end of such words.

“Please,” he said with a gesture of his hand to a pair of seats. “Let’s discuss business.”

Unbuttoning his jacket, Kit pulled out a chair for Aidra first, then himself, folding one leg across the other as he regarded the man across from him. “What exactly would you like to discuss?”

“I understand that if I wish to expand my business internationally, you are the man I need to speak to,” he started with a wave of his hand to get one of the waitress’ attention. “My associates speak very highly of you.”

As to be expected. Kit took his job as The Facilitator seriously.

Though he couldn’t say who Caesar’s associates were.

“What is it, exactly, that you need from me?”

“I have a shipment of girls coming in from the Ukraine—a gift from the Russians should I choose to enter into a deal with them.” Caesar rested thick elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly. “He assured me that should I find a proper route, this could be an ongoing arrangement.”

Depending on how the deal was negotiated, it could very well be profitable for them all, but there were only a few problems with this arrangement.

Kit needed to know, and agree to, whoever was involved in the deal, down to the person that drove the fucking trucks.

And there were just too many variables the didn’t equate for this to be worth it for him in the end.

“The first shipment won’t arrive for another six months,” Caesar went on when he didn’t respond, “but should that go well, the next would be here much faster.”

Kit didn’t bother placating the man with false smiles and promises he knew he wouldn’t keep. “As tempting as your offer is, I’ll pass.”

Caesar hadn’t expected that.

Kit could tell from the way the man’s joyful expression bled away. “You’ll reconsider then, once you hear the figures.”

“Apologies, but you couldn’t afford my services.”

All of Caesar’s grace fled as he pulled the thick cigar from behind his ear, fitting it between his lips and lighting it. After taking two deep pulls, the end briefly lighting up, he said, “You’ll reconsider.”

“I can assure you, I won’t. So, if this is all you needed …”

Kit got to his feet, offering his hand to Aidra. They couldn’t have been in the lounge more than a few minutes at most, but he was already ready to leave.

“I am a powerful enemy to have, Señor Phoenix. You—”

“If you think you know me, you should know that I don’t respond well to idle threats. I suggest you stop while I’m in a forgiving mood.”

Reluctantly, and with great effort, Caesar closed his mouth, though there was hatred burning in his eyes. “I’ll see you again, Phoenix.”

Aidra collected their weapons, and by the time they were driving out of the lot, Kit was more annoyed than he had been before they got there.

“Filter through any that you haven’t. Anyone involved in those trades is automatically rejected, is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“And figure out who his associates are.”

“Right—shit!”

Aidra’s panicked exclamation had him looking in her direction sharply, but her attention was on the incoming messages on her phone.

“What is it?” Kit asked. Aidra was never one to panic easy.

“It’s your brother—he’s been shot.”

Kit snapped into action a moment later, first dialing Luna’s mobile phone, and when she didn’t answer, he punched in Fang’s number and called.

“Yo.”

“Stay on the line,” he snapped before looking at Aidra. “There were three separate protocols Uilleam implements should this happen—figure out which one it was.”

He and his brother had a lot of time to prepare for this considering it was a rarity that he was ever harmed despite the legion of enemies he had—his mercenaries never let them get close enough.

But should one of them have succeeded, there were only three numbers he would call, and each one had a different stash house that he could be found in.

“The warehouse on fifty-seventh,” Aidra said once she finished on the phone.

“D’you hear that?” Kit demanded to Fang, already hearing him telling the others to gear up. “Find Luna and take her to the safe house, no matter what she says. Do not fail in this.”

“On it.”

Fang hung up without another word.

Kit tossed his phone in the cup holder and pressed his foot harder on the gas.

---

If Luna were ever inclined to smoke, now would be a choice time.

It hadn’t been more than a minute between the biker driving off and an ambulance screeching to a stop near where Luna kneeled next to Uilleam.

From the second those back doors came open and a pair jumped out the back in scrubs, she followed their orders blindly, scrambling into the ambulance after Uilleam was loaded.

She watched helplessly as his clothes were cut out of the way, an IV placed into his arm, as well as a tube down his throat.

He’s gonna be fine.

He’s gonna be fine.

He’s gonna be fine.

She repeated the words over and over to herself as they barreled through the streets, so fast that she was surprised everything wasn’t knocking over in the process.

They had driven for another twenty minutes before she heard a metal garage door being lifted and they came to a stop on the other side of it.

She quickly climbed out the back, her gaze seizing on the sectioned off space in the middle of the room. Thick plastic curtains stood around a hospital bed, along with machines that Luna didn’t know the name of—like a typical hospital room, but in the middle of a warehouse.

Skorpion had pulled up not too much later, on the phone with who she thought was Zachariah, but she couldn’t look away from Uilleam as they removed the rest of his clothes once they got him settled on the table.

Toward the end, Lawrence had begged for his life, just like so many others, but despite their blood having been all around her, she hadn’t been moved by the sight of it.

But as she felt the grit on her hands, remembering the slippery warmth of Uilleam’s blood spilling over her fingers, she was dangerously close to either freaking out, or bursting into tears.

“He’ll be fine,” Skorpion said joining her as he stuffed his phone in his pocket.

She wanted to believe that—she really did. “I counted at least three,” she said softly, watching as Uilleam’s chest was cracked open. “He’s—”

“Too fucking stubborn to die—trust me. He’d stay alive just to spite whoever did this.”

Luna blew out a breath. “Who the hell was that?”

Four years next to Kit had shown her a world of killers and specialists, but none of them had been nearly as skilled as the man that had managed to get the drop on them.

At his distance, he should have missed at least one of the shots he fired. In actuality, he had landed his mark each time, and worse, fired through a car to connect with Uilleam.

He was good.

Skorpion shrugged. “I have no fucking idea, but I’ll find out.”

And if anyone could, it would be Skorpion.

Freight doors slamming open made Luna jump, but the doctors barely glanced away from their patient. There was no mistaking the four walking into the warehouse, not with the masks they wore.

“Fang? How did you—”

“Time for you to go,” came his robotic, disembodied voice because of whatever program they used to conceal their voices.

Their attention didn’t stray from her despite a quick assessing glance of Skorpion. Despite the chaos on the other side of the room, they didn’t seem fazed by it.

It was clear she was their mission.

But she didn’t care about it, not a bit. “I’m not leaving.”

“The objective is to move you to a safe house.”

“That’s not happening,” she returned with a sharp shake of her head. “Not until he’s okay.”

Fang didn’t repeat himself, and she knew without a doubt that if she didn’t move within the next two minutes, he was going to move her himself.

Before she could warn him not to try that, Skorpion laid a hand on her shoulder. “Go. The second I know something, I’ll let you know.”

Grinding her teeth, Luna conceded, glancing over at Uilleam as she moved to Fang’s side. There was no point in fighting it. “Fine.”

Pocketing her keys, Luna headed for the doors The Wild Bunch had entered. Thanatos walked ahead of her, Invictus behind, with Fang and Tăcut on either side. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought it was her life that'd been threatened.

Thanatos put his phone to his ear once the gates closed and said, “Package secure. Two hours out.”

“Is that K—”

Before she could ask, he hung up, stowing the device away. It had been a while since she had been around their group, but she had forgotten how serious they could be when they were on the job.

Downstairs, there was a Challenger at the curb, and what looked like a massive moving truck.

“Don’t worry,” Fang said as he shuffled her into the back of the muscle car. “Your bike’s in the truck.”

She could tell she was in for a long ride, but she hadn't realized they were heading out of the city, or that they weren't going for his château.

Knowing better than to ask—they rarely told her anything—Luna figured it would be best for her to wait and see once they arrived. Even after all these years, she still couldn’t say just how many properties Kit owned in New York, let alone the rest of the world.

Settling in for the ride, she tried closing her eyes, giving the chaos running rampant in her head a chance to calm down, but every time she did, all she could see was Uilleam dying beneath her.

Counting backward in her head, she forced herself to think about anything other than the last hour.

She thought about Kit—the way he’d smiled when she walked to him on the beach. She thought about his need to check his phone every twenty minutes for work. It didn’t feel like it was only yesterday that they got back from their honeymoon.

She almost wished she could go back in time and hold onto yesterday just a little bit tighter, but the other part of her was glad that she had been back.

Luna was dozing off when they turned onto a gravel road. She sat up a little straighter, peering through the windows to try to make sense of where she was.

It didn’t help that she was always traveling, with and without Kit, so though she had lived in New York for four years, she still wasn’t familiar with every part of it.

Once they reached a clearing, at least two miles from the road, Fang was the first one out of the car, grabbing her arm, albeit gently, and pulled her out, walking her through the house until they reached an upstairs bedroom.

Yanking on the spine of a book, tumblers came undone as the bookcase gave way to a panic room.

“Boss is en route. Stay put.”

Fang locked her in before she could get a word in. As far as panic rooms went, this one was undoubtedly state of the art, but the last thing she wanted to be doing was to be locked in a room.

Dropping down on the lone couch in the room, she dug her phone out, but to her luck, she had no bars.

Once again, the only thing she could do was wait.

But this time, it wasn’t for long.

The sharp click of a lock disengaging had her sitting up, an angry retort at the tip of her tongue for having been locked in this room, but she swallowed them back down at the look on Kit’s face.

Whatever annoyance she felt bled away as she glanced down at herself, then back to him, realizing how she looked. “I’m fine.”

But that wasn’t enough

The sight of her covered in blood had frozen him in place, but the moment he spoke, he was reaching for her, his hands ghosting over every inch of her as though to reassure himself of what she’d just said.

She let him, waiting until he was back on his feet before saying again, “I’m fine.”

Kit still didn’t speak, cradling her face in his bigger hands, eyes assessing. “Jesus, Luna. What happened?”

Drawing in a breath, she started from the time she arrived until the moment The Wild Bunch had come to retrieved her. Kit didn’t interrupt, hardly blinked, but once she finished, and he seemed to take a moment to fully digest what she’d told him, his brows drew together.

“California, you said? Why would he want you there?”

Luna shrugged. “We never got around to that.”

A muscle worked in his jaw, but whatever thoughts were running through his head, he didn’t share.

“Have you heard from Skorpion, or Zachariah?”

“He’s stable,” he said before pressing a hard kiss to her forehead. “I was told I had you to thank for that.”

Under most circumstances, the Runehart brothers were at odds and often at each other’s throats, but despite outward appearances, Luna knew how much Kit cared for his brother.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

She loved Uilleam too.

Then, she asked, “Do you know who it was? The one on the bike?”

Skorpion might not have, but there was a chance Kit did. He knew more people than she could ever keep up with.

“Not yet.”

But she could tell from the look on his face that he had an idea.

“Where are we, anyway?”

“Your home for the next few days.”

Luna narrowed her eyes. “Say that again?”

“Until this situation is under control, I need to make sure you’re safe.”

“I can handle myself. You don’t—”

“Luna.”

Sighing in frustration, she circled around him to leave the safe room, knowing that no matter what she said, he wouldn’t be changing his mind—not when he got that tone.

“Then at least feed me.”

At least then, she could be unhappy and full.

---

The sharp crack of the wooden spoon across his knuckles made Kit flinch, but he didn’t dare utter a noise, knowing all too well the consequences should he make even the slightest of sounds.

Even as young as he was, he had learned how to channel his pain, burying it deep until he felt nothing. Once, he hadn’t realized one of his fingers had been broken until he allowed himself to feel again.

It should have been worrying how easy it was to slip into this role, but there was no one around to notice.

Not really.

“How did this happen!” Abigail demanded, her weapon in one hand, her glass of wine in the other as she violently swung around to point the spoon back where Uilleam sat at the dining room table, tears spilling from his eyes.

Eyes that were trained on them.

His arm was being set by the family’s physician, the man as ancient in appearance as he seemed in age. He, unlike Uilleam, refused to even glance in their direction. He knew better than to get involved.

“I’m sorry,” Kit said, sounding shockingly calm despite the way Abigail stood over him with wild, watery eyes.

He had long since learned not to plead his case when she was in one of her moods—and he had long since stopped calling her mum once he realized that if he did within hearing distance of her, she smacked him on the back of his head.

And also because he would rather not assign a title like that to a woman who didn’t deserve it.

“I told you to watch after your brother, but no! You cant even manage that. Stupid! Useless! Boy!” Each word was punctuated by a sharp crack of the spoon.

She struck with abandon, without fear. She didn’t care that she hurt him, only that in her mind, he had hurt Uilleam.

It didn’t matter that Kit wasn’t responsible, that he had warned Uilleam not to climb onto the roof after him.The boy did what he wanted, whenever he wanted, and this wasn’t news to anyone that shared a home with him.

But because Kit had been out there too, the fault lay at his feet.

Uilleam’s fall onto the balcony below where they had sat was an accident, a slip of his grip on the stone’s edge. Kit’s heart had felt like it dropped out of his chest as he’d reached to catch him, his hands catching air.

But when he heard Uilleam’s scream of pain below, he had never been more thankful for anything in his short life.

He knew what would come later.

He knew Abigail would punish him, but he accepted it because the punishment he would have received if Uilleam hadn’t drawn another breath would have been far worse.

Abigail continued to wail on him, changing her target until she had grown weak and was too tired to continue. Once she was gone, ushering Uilleam up the stairs for bed, she ordered that Kit remain exactly where he was for the remainder of the night.

As he was leaving, the physician hesitated. “This … this was not your fault.”

Kit didn’t respond.

It was his fault because Abigail was right.

He should have protected his brother.

---

Kit entered the warehouse with a brief look around.

There were a few nurses on standby, though they were too engrossed in their own conversation to pay much attention to Kit’s entrance.

He didn’t go unnoticed by Skorpion, however.

How long had it been since he had last seen the mercenary?

A couple of years?

At one time, the man had been Uilleam’s personal guard, but had since taken on more jobs with the Den as opposed to with Uilleam.

The mercenary jerked his chin in Kit’s direction, but didn’t move from his vantage point which allowed an unobstructed view of the room.

Returning the gesture, Kit slipped behind the curtain that divided where Uilleam rested and the rest of the floor. Uilleam was watching him, but the usual playful arrogance was gone from his eyes.

A white sheet covered his lap, and beneath the dotted gown he wore, Kit could just see the edge of bandages.

“It’s good to see you’re awake,” Kit said, hanging his coat on the back of a chair before sitting.

Uilleam frowned, pressing a button on the remote in his hand to lift the bed so he was sitting up. “I wish I wasn’t.” His voice was rough, tinged with pain. “How on earth did you manage this?”

“I make it a point not to get shot, Uilleam.”

Sure, he’d been winged a few times, but he had managed to kill those that attempted to kill him.

Grimacing in pain as he shifted to get a better look at Kit, Uilleam asked, “What are you doing here anyway, brother? It almost feels as though you care.”

“Despite what you lead yourself to believe, Uilleam, you’re my brother, and I love you—even when you’re attempting to get a rise out of me.”

“Your love is due to obligation and nothing more.”

“Is that how you look at it?” Kit asked. “Who am I obligated to exactly?”

Their father was dead.

Their sister a distant memory.

And their mother … no one hated Abigail Runehart more than Kit did.

“I won’t pretend to understand what goes on in your head,” Uilleam said with a slight shrug and wince. “But you wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t have any information.”

“Luna tells me that the shooter rode a motorcycle and shot you from a considerable distance. Did you get a look at him—particularly, the jacket he wore?”

Uilleam narrowed his eyes, as though in thought. “No, I was too busy getting shot to pay attention to whatever the fuck he was wearing. Your point?”

Kit’s lips quirked in a corner. “They call him the Jackal.” When Uilleam didn’t comment, Kit went on. “He’s been quite prolific over the last five years. He was also the one responsible for what happened to your mercenary last year.”

Uilleam frowned. “And you’re only telling me this now?”

“I don’t involve myself in your affairs unless I need to.”

Kit didn’t care about the mercenaries under his control, and had it not been Uilleam that had felt the unforgiving hand of the Jackal, he wouldn’t have gotten involved now.

“Who’s his handler?”

“No one knows.”

“That’s not good enough.”

Kit arched a brow. “You must be mistaking me with one of your mercenaries, brother.”

“Then how do you find the Jackal?”

“You don’t,” Kit said, a truth that he wished he didn’t have to share. “He finds you. Whoever he is, he’s very good—and whoever he works for, they’re more paranoid about their anonymity than even you.”

Uilleam shook his head. “Ghosts can’t stay hidden forever.”

“My resources are at your disposal should you need them.”

“Duly noted.”

“Don’t give the nurses too much trouble,” Kit said as he got to his feet. “Take it easy over the next few days.”

Uilleam scoffed. “My work is never done.”

“Then take a break. You were shot five times for God’s sake—you’re lucky to be alive.”

---

“I don’t think luck had anything to do with it,” he said. “He missed every major organ, and if we ignore the sheer number of bullets, it wouldn’t have been life threatening.”

Even Kit couldn’t hide his surprise then.

He’d heard the assassin was good, but that was far beyond anything he had expected.

“I wasn’t meant to die today,” Uilleam said, gazing off at something across the room. “Of that much I’m sure.”

“I’ll ask around,” Kit offered after a beat of silence, “see what I can find.”

“Give my thanks to Luna, would you?”

Kit nodded, excusing himself once the nurse came to check on Uilleam. As he was leaving, and spotted Skorpion on his way out, he was reminded of the other reason why he had come here.

But it wasn’t to Skorpion that Kit directed his question.

Instead, he called the one man that might have had the answer, and was willing to share it with him.

“Uncle,” Kit greeted once he was secure in his car and the bluetooth was turned on. “Is this a good time?”

“It’s never a good time,” came his disgruntled reply. “What can I do for you?”

“Uilleam contracted Luna for a job in California and—”

“He did what?”

Since Zachariah had agreed to take on the job as a wrangler for the mercenaries, it was rare that the man didn’t know what assignment belonged to whom—he was their handler after all.

What was Uilleam hiding?

“Perhaps he intended to meet you.”

Then why hadn’t he mentioned it?

And why involve Luna?

Curious that he would ask Luna on an assignment that he didn’t tell anyone else about, especially knowing that Kit would be in California at the time—more curious considering who he’d met with at the time.

Whatever Uilleam’s intentions, it had something to do with Luna—he just had to find out what.