Chaos.

Blood.

So. Much. Blood.

Noah lay on the ground writhing and clutching his shoulder while a small pool of dark red liquid proceeded to stain the polished hardwood.

I was a trained operative; the sight of blood shouldn’t turn my stomach, but it had my gut twisting into a knot.

Maybe because you know this is your fault.

What the fuck had I said wrong? What had set him off? This wasn’t my Matthias. This was someone else. Someone far more dangerous. And I wasn’t sure I could reach that person.

My eyes darted up to Matthias, and I held my hands up. “Matthias, listen to me.” I hoped that by using his name I could get through to him. The look in his eyes was all wildness and tortured pain. I had to try and bring him back.

Rafe, however, wasn’t bothering with the talky-talky route. Instead, he slowly approached Matthias, looking calm and cool, his hands up as if in surrender, but his gaze never wavered. I could tell by the way he moved, weight on the balls of his feet, slowly, deliberately, that he was poised to spring at any moment.

Matthias’s gaze darted from me to Rafe and back again as if judging who the larger threat was. As if he were weighing who might do more harm to him. I certainly didn’t want him thinking it was me.

When Rafe spoke, his voice was low. “Matthias. Kid, it’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you. Just put the knife down, okay? We can talk about this. I know you didn’t mean to hurt Noah.”

From the ground, Noah moaned. “It’s okay. Just listen to Rafe. You can… trust him.” Noah’s head fell back as if the effort to speak had taken all of his strength.

I inched forward as Rafe moved. If I could get to Matthias first, then maybe Rafe wouldn’t kill him. Would Rafe kill him? He was part of the team, but from some things Matthias had said, I understood there was some animosity between them.

But was it worth killing over? Noah said to trust Rafe, but hell, I didn't trust anybody. Especially not with Matthias. He meant too much to me.

I took another step forward. “Matthias. It’ll be okay if you just put the knife down. I know you don’t want to hurt anybody. This was an accident. It was my fault. I should have told you everything once I knew who you were. If you can just breathe and relax, we can talk about it, okay?”

Rafe’s voice was low. “That’s right. Listen to Gemma. Listen to Noah, kid. Nice and easy. Put the knife down. It’s not worth it.”

I studied Matthias closely, praying, hoping that I was getting through to him. Though Noah was clearly awake and alert, watching everything from the ground, he was still bleeding heavily. His gaze flickered to me, then Matthias, then Rafe, and back to me. Maybe he was trying to figure out what his chances were and who he needed to rely on.

“Listen, Matthias. I’m the one you’re mad at. I know I broke your trust. Just relax. If you want to stay mad, stay mad at me. I messed this up.” I inched toward him as he approached the door. “Just put the knife down and we can talk. Okay?”

For a moment, I thought he was going to listen. I thought I was getting through to him. For a moment, I could see the man I loved. But then he shifted his eyes again, and he was gone. Those eyes that I loved, so bright and insightful, turned cold and dark again.

Matthias was gone. The cold-blooded killer they called The Shadow was there in his place. Then in the blink of an eye, he was out the door. I heard, rather than saw, the scuffle in the hallway. Then I heard more groaning. When I ran out the door, I saw Oskar holding his nose and trying to get up off the ground. Diana kneeled next to him holding a cloth to his face.

Jesus Christ, what had I done?

I could have gone after him. But there were people here who needed me. Bleeding people.

I turned and ran back into the room where Noah was. Rafe was by his side pressing something over the wound, and his free hand held his phone at his ear. “Dr. Breckner, we need you here at the penthouse. There’s been an incident.”

My gaze darted back to the door. Did I still have time? Could I still go after him?

On the ground, Noah groaned and glared at me. Through clenched teeth he spoke. “You stay here. Do not go after him. You still have questions to answer.”

My gaze darted back to the exit. I didn’t take my orders from him. But this was Matthias’s family. If anyone could help me get him back, it would be them.

Besides, as fast as he was, Matthias was probably in the wind by now anyway. I ran into the hallway and then into the kitchen to grab an icepack and some towels before running to the big, brawny German. “I’m guessing you’ll need this?”

Oskar pushed himself up into a sitting position and winked at me. “Are you worried about me, beautiful? Not to worry. Your boyfriend barely touched me.”

“I don’t know. That’s a lot of blood, Oskar.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay just as pretty. If you’re looking to upgrade your boyfriend experience, I at least promise I won’t try to kill you after.”

I knew he was kidding, but at the same time, it made me feel worse. This was all my fault. What had I done? I’d been juggling too many balls, and now people were going to die, all because I’d followed orders. Maybe it’s time to stop following orders.

Maybe it was time to go on instinct, because my instincts were probably the only things that were going to save me. I was in a den full of killers. Only my wits were going to get me out alive, because even though Matthias had just lost his mind, these people cared about him. Deeply. And I’d been the cause of all this.

I knew they were going to make me pay, one way or another. And I’d take whatever punishment they wanted to dole out. But first we needed to get Matthias back. Then they could do whatever they wanted to do with me. All I cared about in that moment was him.

Blood.

Confusion.

Pain.

What the fuck had I just done? Noah. I’d fucking stabbed Noah.

Was he dead? Had I killed him? It was like a part of my brain had known what was happening. I could see it all in sickening slow motion. The slice of the blade. The warmth of my mentor’s blood. But I’d still been powerless to stop what I was doing.

Noah. Rafe. Gemma. People I cared about and trusted. Well, okay. Not Gemma… or Rafe. But Noah. I would never hurt Noah.

But you did. And now you have to leave.

Everything I’d done, everything I’d tried to atone for… All gone up in a puff of smoke. Would there ever be forgiveness for someone like me?

No. Assassins don’t get forgiveness. Just because you pretend to be the good guy now doesn’t mean you are.

I went on semi-autopilot as my subconscious took me on a route I’d taken hundreds of times mentally. To the casual observer (and I hoped a trained assassin), it might look like I was wandering the streets. But I had a destination in mind. I knew where I was going. I hadn’t been there in over a year, but I knew the way. I knew why I needed to be there. Safety. I paid a pretty penny to keep the flat in the city.

The landlord asked me constantly if I wanted to sub-let the place, but I’d always said no. I couldn’t take the risk of someone possibly finding my cache of weapons, my cash, my passports… Those things in the wrong hands would be catastrophic, and not just for me.

No, it was better that I kept it empty. Because right then, that flat was exactly what I needed. A place to lay low, a place to think, someplace away from everything and everyone. But no matter the distance I put between me and the penthouse, I couldn’t escape my thoughts.

How could you do it? Noah protected you. He loved you like a brother.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to block out the voices, the ones that told me I fucked up, the ones that that told me that I’d just destroyed the only family I’d ever had.

This is safety. Survive. Worry about the rest later. It was what Noah would tell me. So that’s what I did.

I kept my hands tucked in my pockets on the subway so no one would see the blood. Once I got to my stop, I hopped out, kept my head down, and pulled my cap over my head.

For years, I’d hunted the bad guys. I’d stopped them from hurting people. I’d made sure the innocents stayed safe. Now, I was the bad guy.

I let myself in the flat and engaged the dead bolt. I’d taken all sorts of evasive measures, but I hadn’t felt anyone following me.

In a perfunctory manner, I hit the shower, washing all traces of blood off of my body. I took my clothes, shoved them in a bag and carried them to the dumpster three blocks from the flat. I didn’t want anything leading anyone back to the place in case I needed it again.

You won’t need it again. You aren’t coming back here. This is it. Say goodnight. I’d spent enough time pretending I was one of the normals. Clearly, I wasn’t.

Once I came back from my clothing disposal, I grabbed one of the duffels from the closet and then went out into the living room. My phone rang on the small coffee table at the center of the room, and I froze. How had I left it on? Did they know where I was? When I grabbed it to remove the SIM card, I saw Gemma’s face, and my heart squeezed.

She’d lied to me. She’d been acting this whole time. The lies and betrayal, they stung the worst. It hurt the worst. I would never be able to look at her the same way after I discovered she’d been working for Ian.

Not to worry, mate. You’re never going to see her again. I ended the call and took out the SIM and battery on the phone.

My next step was in the kitchen. I moved the trash can from its spot next to the refrigerator and made a fist, marking along the wall. Then I pulled back my hand and punched precisely where my fist had been. The drywall splattered, bits of it flying around everywhere. When I reached inside, I pulled out what I needed, my ghost stash. I had a few ghost stashes all over the city, just in case.

This one had a hundred thousand dollars and a few passports, just what I needed to get the hell out of Dodge. Life as an assassin had paid very, very well. Unfortunately, life as an assassin had also made it impossible to sleep.

I shoved the money into the duffel bag along with some warmer clothes. For a second, I considered going back. They might forgive me.

There were eight passports with various names. Different variations of me could be seen in each of them: the dyed hair, the contacts—all of them me, all of them a killer. Could I go back? Was it possible I hadn’t hurt Noah after all? The monster had taken over for just a few minutes, and I couldn’t be certain exactly what had gone down.

The pain inside of my head pierced sharply. Fuck. I dropped to my knees as I held my head and groaned, moaning, begging for it to stop, praying for it to end. What the hell?

There is no going home.

No one loves you.

You’re not worth anything.

No. Noah had told me—more pain. Sharper than the last time. Motherfucker. I stopped thinking about Noah and Gemma and started thinking about the safe house where I’d be able to sleep and rest. Finally, the pain dissipated until it was barely a dull throb. Jesus fucking Christ.

Okay then, no thinking of that other place. Just move forward. No looking back.

Absolutely not. I had to get the hell out of there, because whether I liked it or not, Blake Security was as good as I was. If they were looking for me, they’d find me if I stayed put. I had to get on the move, or survival wasn’t going to be an option.