“Redemption, come in.”

There was that cold kick of revulsion every time the piece of shit spoke to me. I smiled, nodded at Director Alistair Horton, and stepped through the open door to his office. Glass and chrome gleamed shiny and new.

Yet there was nothing perfect and shiny about the spineless piece of shit. Hatred welled in my stomach, a pit of acid, as I closed the door behind me.

I glanced across his clean desk and searched for a folder. Not a job. The words filled me…wasting my time. Director Horton liked me to heel like a good dog…he liked us all to heel.

Except for Lorn.

No, that one he preferred to ignore. Only the woman wasn’t one to ignore…I should damn well know.

“Please, sit. I want to discuss something with you,” the chubby piece of shit stumbled around the end of his desk and flopped into the chair.

I had to wonder for the millionth time what Alma ever saw in him.

Why give The Circle to a fumbling baboon like Horton…why not give it to me instead?

There’d be no fight for equality…there’d be no syphoning of funds. No back-alley dealings and hunters gone rogue. There’d be work…and work…and Lorn…

I smothered the wince and stayed standing. Dark, beady eyes met mine as the director lifted his gaze, gave a scowl at my defiance, and then carried on. “Very well. We have a problem.”

You mean you have a problem. They always started out like this. Some fucking rich Warlord Prince comes to Harbor and they need an escort. One who’ll be discreet when the young shifter girls file into their room one by one, and leave bleeding, broken, and ashamed.

No more. No fucking more. I told him last time. I’ll gut the next bastard that hurts a woman in my company…royalty or not. And that dark well of misery waited…I could still hear her screams, and still smell her blood…still see her lying there as I came into that Unseelie cell. Her arms were bound above her head, body stretched out as far as it could go, her shirt torn open, exposing all to be seen.

Her flesh had been so cold when I touched her…so cold.

My gut clenched with the memory.

Horton leaned over and yanked open a drawer…before pulling a pale-yellow folder free. I swallowed hard, hating the way I let him use me.

“You’re the only person for this job, Redemption. I’m not giving it to you as a matter of respect, but because you’re someone who will get the job done fast and be discreet.”

Another mongrel with an itch.

Another fucking Queen who wanted a lapdog.

Go fuck yourself…the words lingered on the tip of my tongue as he lifted his gaze, fingers delving in to pull the details free. I couldn’t take it…not one more job, not one more second. “Give it to someone else.”

Horton’s eyes widened. There was a shake of his head. But I was already turning, already desperate to get out of there.

“Wait…I don’t think you understand…”

Like a nicked vein, hate spilled free…and once that blade cut, it could never be uncut. I spun on my heel and stepped closer, towering over the fumbling, stupid mortal. “No, you don’t understand. Give it to someone else. Actually, give all my jobs to someone else. I fucking quit.”

The bastard paled…actually fucking paled. He gave a slow nod. “If that’s what you want.”

I’d turned, taken a step, and reached for the door before he finished. “Probably too late anyway. They’ll bring in the best hunters to take her down. Such a shame. Someone will need to speak with her father. I doubt there’ll be many wanting an audience with the Lord of Hell.”

My heart lunged, punching into my throat as I turned. “What did you say?”

He lifted his gaze. I seized those dark beady eyes like a predator as I moved closer.

“The Lord of Hell, Lucifer…he’ll need to be told…after the fact, I’m guessing.”

I punched out my hand as my gaze riveted to the folder. “Give it to me.”

His hand actually went over the damn thing, like for a second he entertained the fact he had a fucking choice. “Give it to me, you fucking piece of shit.”

Eyes widened as the gutless bastard trembled. “I…I don’t think name calling is the answer.”

I strode forward and snatched the folder from his hand. Pages spilled free, clippings from the Greenwich Daily News…

Man set alight by Lucifer’s Daughter.

I winced and scanned the details.

Henry Mughausser, investment advisor to the stars, was set alight in his downtown office yesterday in what people have described as a vicious and bloodthirsty act.

A woman matching the description of Lorn Payne, daughter of paranormal celebrity, Lucifer Morning Star, entered the offices of Mughausser, Inc. and opened fire before setting Mr. Mughausser alight and then fleeing the scene of the crime.

Ms. Payne’s whereabouts at this time are unknown. Sources say she is possibly mentally unstable, armed, and very dangerous. If you see Ms. Payne, you’re advised to call the Greenwich Police Hotline on 555-585-9232.

“She has to be stopped right now, Redemption, and you’re the only man who can do it.”

My heart was hammering…has to be stopped…bring in the best hunters to take her down. Such a shame… I jerked my gaze to his. “They’ll kill her over this…”

“They’ll certainly try. The law of The Circle—”

“I know the fucking law of The Circle,” I severed his words.

I could see the ties that bound us twisting tighter and tighter in his mind. “You were saying before…I think the words were, I fucking quit.”

I curled my lips, and hate spilled out. I’d never wanted to slice a mortal’s throat as badly as I wanted to right now. “The job is mine. Do not send anyone else. You get me? I sense anyone coming and I’ll tear them a-fucking-part, hunter or no hunter.”

“You want this job? Fine, it’s yours.” He pushed up from the chair, flabby arms wobbling as he attempted to stare me down. “The next time I hand you a client, you will remember who is in charge here. What you say and do reflects on me and this company.”

Absolon. That’s who he meant. He wanted me to bow and scrape to the one fucking immortal I dreamt of killing…the infernal son of a whore, the Unseelie Prince.

We had history...the kind that changes the course of history.

The kind that makes a Queen beg.

I inhaled and felt my hate turn bitter cold. “Be careful what you wish for, Director,” pathetic, manipulating piece of shit. “You might get more than you bargained for.”

I gripped the documents and strode from the room, slamming the door behind me. Hate was a mask, one I wore very well. I nodded to the receptionist and went to the elevators.

“Redemption,” Betty rushed toward me, eyes wide, panic-stricken. “Tell me it’s not true.”

Her gaze lowered to the papers in my hand as her hand fluttered to her chest. “This is all my fault…all my fault…”

I reached out and gripped her arm, leading her gently toward the bank of elevators. “I don’t know all the details, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I don’t even know it’s her.”

“It is…it’s her,” she murmured and met my gaze, her eyes shimmering with tears. “She’s hunting…and it’s the Nine she’s after.”

I flinched, and then looked at the black and white image of a man on the front page. “This? This is the fucking Nine?”

“One of them, yes,” she murmured, her voice a little lower now.

I jerked my gaze to the picture and then back to this quiet, middle-aged receptionist that seemed to know everyfuckingthing.

The elevator let out a ping and the doors opened. I motioned inside. “I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

The woman swallowed a shiver, and then nodded and stepped in. I gave her one thing, she had balls. She stepped inside and I followed. One of the hunters stepped up to the open elevator doors and, with the shake of my head, stepped back.

“I’ll take the stairs,” he muttered and strode away.

I waited for the doors to close before hitting the emergency stop. Lights dulled, a dull siren buzzed overhead. But it was the receptionist who had my complete attention. “Spill, and leave nothing out. If this is true and Lorn’s now hunting mortals, then she’s in serious trouble.”

“They’ll send other hunters.” There was real fear in her eyes.

“They’ll damn well try, which is why I need everything you know and I need it now.”

She took a step forward, long, tapered nails scratching my skin as she gripped my arm. “But you’ll protect her. You’ll make sure she’s safe.”

I stared into the woman’s eyes and gave her my word. “Yes.”

“Eight of the Nine are mortal. Henry Mughausser was in charge of the money, a low-level con man as far as I’m concerned. He poured millions of dollars into the fund that fought against that demonized church…Heavenly something. I know of two others, Jerry Leander and a Dominic Graham. Jerry moves in darker circles, and is deeply embedded in the military…Claws for Hire, and that kind of thing. There’s another Alma mentioned in the notebooks she left with me for safekeeping…a high-ranking official, but she never said who it was.”

“And you think she’s going after them on her own?”

She nodded, “I do.”

“Jesus…they’ll crucify her. They’ll parade her through the streets and fucking crucify her.”

“Unless Lucifer steps in. There’s something else, something Alma mentioned. Make Lucifer heel. I don’t know what it means, and I’m quite terrified of the things my small mind imagines. You need to find her before someone else does. I love her like my own child. Alma was like a sister to me.”

I punched the button and stared at the elevators doors. “I’ll do my best.”

And all of a sudden, these steel doors were too close, caging me in…I wanted out…I wanted to be running—I wanted Lorn.

Purpose filled me as the doors slid open, and I was gone, striding past familiar faces. I’d burn it down…I’d raze the entire city before I let them hurt her.

Before I let anyone hurt her…ever again.

They’ll send their best...Horton’s words resounded in my head.

I knew who they’d send; Capture was a mean-assed sonofabitch. He hated her…hated her bloodline…hated her power. The vampire was the best tracker The Circle had, and I’d be betting everything I had he’d waste no time going after her.

I lengthened my stride as I punched through the front doors and headed for my car. My heart picked up pace…urging…before I broke into a run. Lights flashed once before the doors unlocked. I was yanking the handle and sliding in before I pressed the button and the engine came to life.

Find her…find her…find her…

Panicked thoughts raced as I shoved the car into gear and pulled out onto the street. The roar of the motor filled the space. Tires squealed as I tore around the corner and then punched the accelerator. Cars whipped past, and any other day I might’ve felt the rush. But not today…that growing sense of dread pushed me harder.

Street after street, I worked my way home. The place still felt deserted and haunted after months of living in that dingy apartment building with Alma, and as I swung the nose of the car around the corner of my street and tapped the brakes—I wanted nothing more than to go back there.

To the life I once had. The life with Alma Goodchild.

The garage door lifted. I glanced at the sleek building, rich with polished surfaces and cold glass. I pulled to a stop next to a towering Ford Raptor. This was not a job for the fast-paced Maserati, it was a job for brute strength and a reinforced chassis.

The roller door stayed open as I snatched the pages from the file, killed the engine, and climbed from the car. Seconds felt like hours…minutes like lifetimes, as I opened the connecting door and stepped into the house.

It wasn’t a home yet. Soulless and empty, no matter how many warm timber surfaces and lush green leaves. The echo of my footsteps was haunting…just like my life…ever since Lorn left me.

Ever since I betrayed her trust.

I climbed the stairs and strode toward the master bedroom at the end of the hall. The jacket was off, cufflinks and shirt next. I left them in a trail behind me like the dead as I stepped into the expansive walk-in closet and stopped.

One half was filled, the other half empty. There’d be no dresses, no gowns, no other person in my life. I’d tried it once, after Lorn left…I tried to move on and be normal with a young coyote shifter called Jackie. And yet every time I looked at her, all I saw was Lorn, and seeing Jackie just made me want Lorn even more.

I yanked on a t-shirt, black combat pants, shoulder holster, and utility belt before reaching for my boots.

The vampire, Capture, would be already on the road…he was at least another six hours away from Greenwich City than I was. On the back roads, I could pull ahead—but he’d have a head start, and the sick bastard was already ready to rock and roll. One quick bite of the neck and he’d be running, gunning his engine, desperate for the hunt.

I lifted my gaze to the full-length mirror and stared into haunted eyes.

Why! Why protect him? Haunting words filled my head, and in an instant, I was back there, carving through warriors of my kind as we broke through the seal into the Unseelie world.

Morpheous had been my brother in the Unseelie Army…and a friend, who died protecting a vile cancer of the Unseelie royal line—Absolon.

Why, Morpheous! Tell me why…

The warrior looked at me, blood spilling down his chest. It was a mortal wound, made from my own blade.

Because he’s all we have, Morpheous answered as his knees buckled.

I turned to the blank wall at the end of the closet. I pressed a hidden button and a panel slid back, revealing an electronic lock. Eight digits later and the wall slid down, revealing rows of weapons.

A black bag sat on the small ledge at the bottom. I gripped the handles, opened the center, and filled the well. Pistols, magazines, grenades, an automatic rifle, and then the pages from the file…pages I hadn’t really looked at yet, all went into the bag.

There was no way Capture was finding her…there was no way he was going to touch a hair on her head.

The woman was mine.

Always had been…and always will be.

No matter who she gave her heart to.

I reset the button as I heaved the bag free and strode from the room. Heavy boots pounding on the stairs, I was already out into the garage before movement caught my eye.

“Going somewhere?”

Hairs rose on the back of my neck, the voice cold…stony…and dangerous. I never stopped, never gave him a second of my time. If the bastard wanted blood, then it was blood I’d give him…

But it wouldn’t be my own.

“Do you know where she is?” The hellhound stepped out from the shadows, dark eyes flickering with orange flames. He took one look at my clothes, and then my bag… “You’re going after her? You going to kill the woman you love?”

My hand stilled on the passenger’s door handle. Don’t stop…you don’t owe him fucking shit. He left her…left her with this fucking mess. He’s as much to blame as you are.

“You really are a cold Unseelie bastard, aren’t you?”

His words were a knife plunged into my heart. I didn’t like him…didn’t like him one fucking bit. But it had been the fucking hound who came for me that night.

And it was the hound who risked it all to save them from the Unseelie Hell.

Do it, the bastard’s words nailed me to the spot. Do it if it’ll make you feel better. If it gets you moving, if it gets us one step fucking closer to saving them…then go your fucking hardest.

I shook my head, words spilled from my mouth. “I don’t have time for this.”

Desperation mingled with pain, foul and forbidding like a poison…I knew that scent well. He strode closer, cutting alongside the sports car to grasp my shirt and lean close. “Then fucking make time. Where is she? Tell me now, or so help me fucking Lucifer, I’ll burn you alive.”

Just like Lorn…all fucking fire and flames…I glared down at his fists. “Get your hands off me.”

There was a flicker of agony in his eyes, one buried so deep there was no digging it out. “I let her go,” he whimpered and dropped his hands, then stared at the crumpled mess on my chest. “She told me to make a choice, her or Lucifer…so I let her go.”

Jesus fucking Christ, no wonder she went rogue. “The Archangel?”

Not even the cop, Titus, was there for her.

There was a tiny shake of his head, and I knew then…knew she was all alone with her pain…all alone with her demons. I know what that felt like, when this world felt far too small. She couldn’t run fast enough.

So she’d learn to fight.

More importantly, to kill. She was learning to kill, and not in a purposeful way, in a cold, nonbeating-heart way…she was already dying on the inside—and now she wanted the flesh to follow.

I turned away from him. He could help me no more. “Then this is on all of us…everyone who left her…everyone who betrayed her—everyone who knew she was bleeding on the inside and refused to help her. Well, now she’s helping herself. They’re coming for her. Men who are colder and more violent than I am…men who won’t hesitate to extinguish Lucifer’s line with the cut of a sword, and I’ve wasted far too much time explaining this to you.”

I tore my gaze from his and strode to the driver’s side of the Raptor. I pulled open the door and climbed in before punching the keys home and twisting.

“Give me something,” Rival snarled. “Give me fucking something!”

I hit the button and wound down the passenger’s window. He could help…even if it meant he might reach her before I did. “Betty found a record outlining three members of the Nine. Lorn’s just killed one of them and I’m betting she’s on her way to the others. There’s a mention of a high-ranking official, but no name. Find him. Search every record, crush every fucking rock, look at Senators, any government official, movie stars, celebrities, anything that even smells like betrayal, and murder…and Unseelie. You have my number and I have yours. I’ll call if I find her.”

I shoved the truck into gear and tapped the accelerator. The Raptor pulled forward, mounting the drive, and then pulled out onto the road. The garage door was already lowering, sensor-driven the moment I pulled out of the space.

There was a flash of midnight as the hound took off, racing into nowhere. Find him, Rival…find them all.