Sharing of secrets is not permitted and the Establishment will not hesitate to carry out orders to erase both ex-operative and person who knows intimate knowledge.

The operative has exactly five weeks from removal to swallow his final task.

If this is disobeyed, the Establishment has full right to hunt, interrogate, and kill.

We are always watching.

Invincible. Impenetrable. Invisible.

Like the f**king schmuck I was, I signed it. I wanted out. I needed out. Every day, I lost more and more of my vision until I relied on a cane to move around. I already lived in hell, but now I lived in complete and utter darkness. I hated every moment of it.

Every day I begged for freedom—and fate finally listened by taking away my sight until I was useless to them.

I signed it.

I learned to read braille.

I left and never looked back.

For two years, I lived a life adrift from others. I opened Obsidian and hired Oscar to oversee it. Using my inheritance from my slaughtered family, I began a new life. I worked during the witching hours and slept while the sun protected me, basking my skin in warmth and safety my eyes couldn’t see.

And slowly, my vision came back.

The pressure of my past stopped crushing me; I believed the illusion that I was free—regardless of the fact that I was supposed to put myself down like a dog. I had everything I ever wanted apart from the privilege of indulging in another human for comfort. I thought I didn’t want it—that I was above such frivolous desires. But I wasn’t.

I wanted Zel like I wanted my next breath. I was dying to touch her. I’d give up my vision all over again if it meant I could kiss her and wrap my arms around her and be sure I’d never hurt her again.

I would undergo any operation or therapy if it meant I could just be normal. All I wanted was to provide and care for a woman who gave me all of herself. I hadn’t given anything in return, and I was sick of taking. Sick of being a mess. Sick of every damn thing.

I wanted to be a man for her. To shelter her, nurture her…learn to love her.

You’re a f**king idiot.

I’d just proved how wistful and fanciful such dreams were. I took Zel by force all because she touched me briefly.

You don’t deserve her.

Damn right I didn’t. I didn’t deserve anything more than a hole in the f**king ground.

The switch inside had flicked on and drowned out everything else. I was inflicted—therefore I had to inflict. Simple. Powerful. Unfightable.

Moving through the house, I didn’t know where I would go. I doubted Poison Oaks would indulge my needs so soon. I’d have to resort to more rudimentary methods and lurk in an alley once again.

The anticipation of a fist to my jaw gave me the willpower to keep moving and not bash my head in with the small rabbit statue sitting on the side table.

Wrenching open the door, I sucked in the early afternoon air. Gulping in freshness, I tilted my head up to the sun.

The sun.

Shit. No clubs would be open to fight at this time. No alleys would be dark enough. I had nowhere to go to purge my body and punish myself. I needed a physical release, not just a few lines of a razor blade. Even the tools in my workshop wouldn’t give me the wallop I hungered for.

Where could I go to find redemption?

My brain filled with images of Zel again as I stalked around the side of the house toward the garage and my black Porsche.

Her beautifully firm ass as I drove into her. Her gorgeous cascading hair and heart shaped face. The way she looked at me afterward told me exactly what she thought.

Her eyes screamed the truth: I was diabolic. Not fit to be around others. And definitely not worthy of her.

I’d never forgive myself for drilling murderously into her like she was an enemy I needed kill.

Squinting in the glare, I stopped short.

Shit, I hated what I’d done so much, my vision was compromised. A slight film covered my gaze. I’d contaminated myself with horrendous actions toward a woman who deserved a kingdom.

I needed to leave that instant. I didn’t want to watch her go. I’d severed the connection between us, and there was nothing but the cold-hearted mistress of conditioning.

It was over.

I’d wanted to know so much about her. She could see the truth through all my bullshit and knew so much more about me than I did about her. The secrets she kept hidden were so deep inside I had no chance of deciphering them.

All I knew was the driving force behind everything she did was grief.

Sadness, heartache, despair.

I hated to see her so unhappy and not have anyone to lean on.

“Um, hi.” A soft, high pitched voice jerked me to attention. I looked around, searching the large expanse of pebbled driveway. I frowned. In my rush, I hadn’t noticed the white car parked at the front of Obsidian.

All members’ car parks were at the rear of the property. Who the hell had the nerve to park in front of my residence as if they owned the f**king place? I moved forward, wondering what the hell was going on.

“Um, mister? Do you have a key to the big door? My auntie and her friend left me to go talk to my mummy, but I don’t want to wait. I said I’d be good and sit in the car because little kids can’t go inside, but I want to see her.”

I spun around, kicking up gravel.

A perfect replica of Hazel stood behind me.

A child.

A girl.

A daughter.

Fuck.

A flashback grabbed me with its gnarly claws, dragging me deep and dark.

“Congratulations on your promotion, Operative Fox. Tell me again how many family members you had.”

I hated this part. The mind games. The constant mental torture. He knew how many family members I’d had because he made me kill them all.

“I had a mother. Vera Averin. She was a whore, a traitor, and a thief, and deserved to die. I had a father. Alex Averin. He was a womanizer, a cheater, and a liar, and deserved to die. I had a brother, Vasily Averin. He was the spawn of Satan, a heathen, and only evil lived inside him, and he deserved to die.”

The moment the vile lies were spoken, I hastily thought the truth. Silently, I undid the heinous things I said. Vera, my mother, was kind and generous. She didn’t deserve to die. Alex, my father, was a great provider and protector. He didn’t deserve to die. Vasily—

My heart ceased to beat as grief crippled me. Vasily, my brother, was a proficient artist, kind and smart. He didn’t deserve to die.

“Good. And did you know you had a sister?”