“I’m sure you remember this room. It hasn’t changed since you were last here.”

He was right. The room looked the same. She should know, since this particular one had been featured in many of her nightmares. This was the place where formal punishments were given. The area was large enough to hold a small group of people to witness the punishment, but not so large if Hill had wanted a more private setting. Dramatic in both color and design, the décor evoked memories she had spent a lifetime trying to forget. Hundreds of hours in therapy had eradicated the humiliation and excruciating pain, but no amount of therapy could wipe away the memory.

Only by reminding herself how far she had come was she able to act naturally. Dark had breezed through the first two floors with a minimum of detail. When they’d reached the third floor, where most of the horrible things took place, he had purposely slowed down, stopping at various areas to reminisce. The sparkling gleam in his eyes said he was enjoying himself immensely.

At the end of this long hallway was the place she wanted to go the most. He had barely mentioned the room as they’d passed, just making an aside that the records room was where it always had been. She had merely nodded and moved on, in no way indicating that what lay behind those locked doors was of utmost importance.

He had waited until the end of the tour to show this particular room. It was obvious he wanted a reaction out of her. Damned if she would give him any satisfaction. She was good at undercover, trained to hide and manipulate. This weasel, with his smarmy smile and wicked agenda, would not cause her to fail. This was the most important undercover mission she’d ever attempted. No way would she let the memories of horror stop her.

Using every bit of talent she had, she kept her expression free of the outrage and fury boiling in her blood. “It’s a bit outdated. One would think we’re still living in the twentieth century. Black and red are so gauche and passé.”

His smile froze for an instant. “The classic look never really goes out of style, does it?”

“If you say so.”

“You don’t seem all that pleased to be back here. Perhaps this was a mistake.”

“On the contrary, I’m extremely pleased to be back home. I’m just surprised that a man with your exquisite taste hasn’t commissioned more renovations.”

The smile became natural once more. Yes, she was playing him, and he knew it. As she’d told Kennedy, life was a game. She wasn’t particularly good at certain parts. However, having been schooled by a master, she excelled in manipulation. But there was something else she needed to remember—that very same master had trained Sebastian Dark as well.

“I am slowly renovating,” Dark was saying. “I’m sure you’ll agree that, while our father was a bit old-fashioned, he had exquisite taste.”

This wasn’t the first time Dark had referred to Hill Reed as their father. The ploy was to remind her of their relationship. Their shared upbringing and just who had created them.

“Besides, you’d be surprised at how slow to change many of our members are. We remember and treasure the good old days.”

She didn’t mention the absence of those members. The house was virtually empty. Dark was having trouble gaining the following that Reed had enjoyed. What he lacked in assassins, he had made up for with guards. She had spotted at least six so far.

The emptiness of the house was actually a disappointment. She had wanted to talk with Hill House members, glean as much information as she could. The contract on Grey Justice would be an exciting bit of gossip. In a relaxed atmosphere, with a little alcohol, lips became looser, secrets were shared. The likelihood of someone revealing the person behind the hit was greater.

The fact that many in the community would want to kill her wasn’t a concern. Reed had employed a strict rule that an assassin could not kill another assassin within five kilometers of Hill House. This place was to be a safe haven, while the rest of the world was their killing field.

Had Dark adopted the same rules as well? From what she could tell, he was doing his best to maintain Reed’s traditions.

Aware that he was waiting for her to comment on what he called the good old days, she said, “Those were indeed good days. However, if you need decorating assistance, I can recommend several excellent interior designers.”

“Thank you, but I have everything under control.” He waved a hand. “Shall we proceed?”

She would call this conversation a draw. The moment she’d touched down at Leeds Bradford Airport, she’d been under scrutiny. She was one of the best trackers in the business, which meant she knew when she was being followed. She had taken a roundabout way here. Having flown to and from Dallas under an alias, she had gone to Paris to grab her official go bag from her new apartment. She hadn’t planned on seeing Grey. When she’d heard he was there, looking for her, she had been equal parts angry and excited. And the minute she’d seen him, she had wanted to throw away every bit of her resolve and return home with him. Thankfully, she had come to her senses before that had happened.

Only a few hours after seeing Grey, she had jumped onto another plane. This time as Irelyn Raine, resolved once more to see this through.

“Would you like to see where you’ll be staying?”

Excitement washed away the sadness. Finally. This was what she had been working on forever. She was going to be able to stay here, get what she needed.

When she had lived here with Reed, a few of the older, retired assassins had made Hill House their temporary residence. Active assassins stayed here for training and between assignments, but never for very long. It was just as she had hoped—Dark was maintaining Reed’s traditions.

They walked back down to the second floor, where he stopped at a door at the end of a corridor. “I thought you would enjoy staying in your old room.”

Smiling, he opened the door wide. “Welcome home.”

The room was just as she had left it. Reed’s idea of femininity had been traditional, too. Varying shades of pink covered both the walls and the floors. As a child, she had thought her room was the most beautiful place in the world. She had never dreamed of having anything so fine or lovely. Looking at it now, with an adult’s eyes and awful memories, she saw the room for what it was—a façade covering a multitude of sickness.

Her smile felt stiff on her lips. “It’s just as I remember it. Thank you for allowing me to stay.”

“You won’t be here long.”

He left it at that. Though she longed to ask how long she would be allowed to stay, she wouldn’t. If Dark got the slightest impression of just how much she wanted to be here, she would be booted out immediately.

She would have to act fast. If she woke tomorrow morning and was told to leave, then all of her hard work would be for nothing. Once she had the information she’d come for, she would proceed with her second plan. It lifted her spirits a bit to think that, this time tomorrow, Hill House would no longer exist.

* * *

The hallways were pitch dark. No one should be about this time of night. If they were, they were in places they shouldn’t be. She would definitely fit that description. If caught, she would die. She didn’t plan on getting caught.

Odd, really, that darkness could still bother her. Even after all this time, it was the one thing that could remind her of the past. The sheer emptiness, the terror of being completely alone. She had overcome much of what had been done to her, but that one aspect could sometimes plunge her back into those hideous days.

Reed had used the absence of light as punishment. Nothing had worked quite so well. Even beatings were preferable to being left alone in the dark. Lights had been turned off, bulbs removed, and the door locked. Think about what you’ve done, he would growl softly. And then he would whisper those awful, terrible words—the ones that would strike terror in her childish mind. That one threat would make her do anything to keep it from coming true. Do it again and I’ll leave you alone forever.

In those first few years, she hadn’t done anything bad. Basic childhood mess-ups that any sane adult would either ignore or send a child to stand in the corner for a while. A broken dish, spilled juice, not eating her peas and carrots. Anything he deemed an infraction was punished in this manner. The punishment had been effective. Eventually, just the verbal threat of being left alone in the darkness was enough to correct her behavior. He knew exactly how to manipulate her for maximum benefit.

Later on, the physical punishments had come. Not because she had misbehaved or had stopped being afraid of the dark. Punishment was followed by reward, again and again, until she would do anything…anything to prevent his punishment. She had often likened her behavior to a perverted version of Pavlov’s famous experiment. She had practically salivated to not only avoid punishment but to receive affection. Like a well-trained pet or a puppet on a string, Reed had commanded, and she had followed those orders to the letter.

Until one day, she didn’t.

After more than a decade of therapy, she understood more about the manner of man Hill Reed had been. On one hand, he saved her from certain death. He’d fed, clothed, and housed her. She had loved him with all the fervor of her naïve young heart, believing what she was receiving was love. He had abused and used her for his own evil works. Even as she hated the things he did, she had accepted them. They were the norm for her, and she hadn’t known anything different.

Then she had met people who showed her a different way of life. Goodness and light, justice and mercy. They were hers for the taking, but in the end, she destroyed those, too.

And now she was back in the heart of that hell, the place where it all began. But this was different. She was here on her terms, with one very specific purpose in mind. She would find the information she needed and deal with it. What that meant, she didn’t yet fully know. She only knew she had to pursue this till the end. And if getting what she needed took her life, at least she would die with a clearer conscience and her soul intact.

As she crept through the darkness, she wondered about the ease with which she was able to penetrate the house. She wasn’t egotistical enough to believe her success was all due to skill. Nothing worthwhile came without effort. No guards were about, no motion sensors activated. Why was Dark making this so easy?

Not that it mattered. Even if he was setting a trap, she had no choice but to take the chance. Getting to the records was her only goal. If that involved some risks, she was prepared. She had yet to demonstrate that she was better trained and more skilled than Dark could ever fathom. Whatever came her way, she could handle.

Though the mansion was enormous, the layout was simplistic. First floor held three parlors, a bar/clubhouse for social gatherings, a kitchen, and an enormous dining room. When Reed was alive, he had often held dinner parties for his elite assassins. She had never been invited, but she had heard about them. Considering that Hill House was so empty, she doubted that Sebastian threw many dinner parties.

Dark’s private quarters covered the entire back part of the mansion, along with his private offices. The bedrooms and private apartments were located on the second floor, where she was staying. The third floor held the interrogation and training rooms, as well as the records room.

Hacking into computers was so much easier than breaking into a room filled with paper records. Hill Reed had known this. Though he had adapted the use of a cellphone for convenience, he had never embraced what he called the modern tools of communication. The more the world relied on technology, the more old-school he had become. She had teased him once that Morse code was next on his agenda, and he had laughingly described how Morse code and notes on paper napkins had been the only communication used in the successful killing of an entire family.

That conversation was the first time she realized how very much she hated him. Being able to discuss the decimation of a family with both amusement and pride, but not the slightest hint of remorse, made her recognize just how sick of a bastard her mentor really was. She had known he wasn’t a good man and had fought the love/hate battle with him for years. But in that one conversation, she had accepted that her hatred of him was far greater than the minuscule amount of affection that remained.

She made it to the third floor without her flashlight. No lights would burn until six o’clock tomorrow morning. Fortunately, she knew this house so well that lights weren’t necessary. Many nights, unable to sleep, she had roamed the halls. Insomnia had been a major problem back then. And now she realized how fortuitous her condition had been.

At just before three a.m., all was quiet. Even a death house had to sleep. Oddly enough, she was tense and nervous. Usually when she was on an op, she was able to shut down all nerves and do the job. Tonight felt off, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. She consoled herself that once she was out of here, she would find a gym and work the kinks out of her body. A little one-on-one with a boxing bag and she would be fine.

She stood at the door to the records room, noting that the locks had been upgraded. Reed had used old-fashioned deadbolts, but Dark obviously felt the need for a bit of technology. She was grateful for that. Maintaining silence was of utmost importance. Cracking a passcode was not only easier than breaking a lock, it was also less noisy.

Half an hour later, she wasn’t feeling quite as smug. Her handheld decoder was the highest-quality one on the black market. She had opened much more complicated locks. The delay was seriously cutting into the time she’d be able to spend searching. She had to—

The last digit lit up, and with an almost silent click, the lock disengaged. Her tension easing a bit, she twisted the knob and walked inside. The room hadn’t changed much. The musty smell of old files blended with the lemon-scented air freshener someone had recently sprayed. Rows of filing cabinets were lined up against two large cream-colored walls.

One long summer, she’d been nine or so, Reed had still been trying to determine how he could use her best, and she had worked inside here for hours on end. Filing, alphabetizing, shredding. Nothing had been too menial. The work had been mind-numbing and boring, but not difficult. The small, enclosed space was what had almost driven her up the wall. When Reed had seen how she responded to confinement, he had exploited that weakness until she learned to control her reaction.

Even now, she could feel the walls closing in on her, but she pushed them back with disdain. She’d endured too much to allow a few walls to defeat her.

While that time had been torturous, she had learned an enormous amount about how Reed conducted the business of killing. She would utilize that knowledge tonight.

Using a small pen flashlight, Irelyn eyed the labels on the file cabinets. Once again, she was glad that Dark wanted to follow so faithfully in Reed’s footsteps. The labels didn’t look like they’d been changed since she had worked here. She quickly located her personal file and pulled it from the drawer. Just shuffling through a few pages revealed that not only had Reed kept records of the ten years she’d lived here, but also after they’d reconnected years later. She would review and then destroy the pages later. For now, she was looking for a specific piece of intel.

She found the information on the third page. She stared at the words for several moments and was surprised that the lines became blurred. Getting emotional would not do a damn bit of good.

Emotions would have to wait. She had two more tasks to accomplish. The second file was right next to hers. Despite an inner voice telling her to get the hell out of there, she took a moment to flip through the pages. The photograph was expected—all personnel files carried one. What she hadn’t expected was the visceral reaction. How had she not known? Why hadn’t she remembered?

She flipped to another page and caught her breath on a soft gasp.

She had thought she was prepared for anything. Had believed that all the anger and pain had already been dealt with and put away. She had been wrong. Nothing could have prepared her for this new information. Sickness roiled through her stomach. It was a tragedy in the making. No way in hell this wasn’t intentional.

Slamming the folder closed, she took both files and shoved them inside her jacket. She had everything she needed.

The urge to get out of this vile house and away from the decades of death and destruction was becoming imperative. She was across the floor and out of the room in seconds. She carefully closed the door and initiated the lock. No one would know until it was too late that the files were missing.

Her priorities had shifted. She had no choice but to get out of here as soon as possible. She would come back later and fulfill her second mission.

Anxiety that she might be too late mixed with bubbling rage, creating a mishmash of emotions. She had no time to process any of them. She had to get to Dallas and to Grey. She had to prevent this monumental travesty that had been set in motion.

“Find what you were looking for?”

She whirled. Benjamin, one of Dark’s beefy guards, smirked down at her. Everyone, including the house servants, was trained to kill. Benjamin was no exception. His size alone would make most people run the other way. His arrogant expression said that he had every intention of doing what he was trained to do.

“What’s going on?”

Another guard, Lionel, came up behind Benjamin. Though shorter and thinner than his counterpart, Lionel was wiry, without an ounce of excess fat. In her estimation, he was more lethal.

Both of them could kill without the slightest hesitation.

Inappropriate laughter burst from her. That one-on-one fight with a boxing bag would no longer be necessary. The fight she had been looking for had come to her. Now she just had to survive it.

Hoping they had more muscle than brains, she went for bravado first. Her brow arched with an arrogance she’d learned from Grey, she glared at them. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, you can tell us why you’re sneaking around in the records room,” Lionel said.

“Sneaking? Excuse me? I have every right to be here. It’s part of my new job. Did Dark forget to inform you?”

“Oh, he informed us all right. Said to keep an eye on you.”

Though Lionel appeared to be the one in charge, Irelyn kept a wary eye on Benjamin as she said, “Then perhaps he just doesn’t think you’re important enough for updates. I assure you I have every right to be here.”

A hint of doubt clouding his eyes, Benjamin said, “Maybe she’s right, Lionel. I heard she was trained by Reed.”

“Only one way to find out.” Lionel pulled his radio from his belt.

In a flash, Irelyn double-kicked. The radio flew from his hand, and blood spurted from the nose she’d crushed. She took a step toward the door, then jerked to a halt when a hairy, muscular arm wrapped tight around her neck. Irelyn kicked back at her assailant, feeling a moment of triumph when her heel connected with a shinbone and she heard a grunt of pain. That brief flash of triumph disappeared when the arm around her tightened, cutting off her air. Lionel appeared in front of her. Blood poured from his nose, and murder gleamed in his eyes.

Wrapping her hands around Benjamin’s arm and using it as leverage, she swung her legs up and kicked with all her might, focusing solely on Lionel’s groin. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped like a rock in front of her.

One down, one to go.

Still hanging on to the arm around her neck, Irelyn slammed her head back as hard as she could and heard a distinctive crunch. With a howl of agony, Benjamin dropped his arm. She sprinted for the stairway door. Halfway there, she found herself airborne and then slammed into a wall. Her shoulder hit first and then her hip.

Damn, that hurt.

She managed to land on her feet, albeit a bit wobbly. She whirled just in time to see Benjamin’s giant fist barreling toward her face. Irelyn jerked back. Taking advantage of his forward momentum, she grabbed his arm and pulled hard. She barely got to enjoy the sound of the crash before he was whirling around and coming at her again.

Knowing it was now or never, Irelyn ignored the pain in her shoulder and hip and went after him full force. Double-kick to the groin and chest, whirl with a roundhouse kick to his belly. While he was still teetering on his feet, she went for a knockout kick to his head. She missed. One giant fist slammed into her jaw, and another grazed her ribs. She crashed into a chair, the backs of her legs taking the brunt of the impact.

Grinning, his face a bloody mask, he pulled his radio from his belt loop. “Dark’s going to love this.”

Irelyn sprang forward. Grabbing hold of his arm before he could press the talk button, she smashed both the radio and his own hand into his face. Heard another crunch. A broken jaw to go with his broken nose.

Benjamin tumbled backward, taking out the chair and the painting on the wall behind him on his way to the floor. She winced at the noise, but at least he wouldn’t be waking up for a while. She spared a glance toward Lionel, pleased to see he was still lying on the floor, moaning with his hands covering his crotch.

She took no time to assess her own injuries. Doing so would acknowledge them, and she couldn’t afford the weakness. Other guards, or Dark himself, would be here soon. She had to get out of the house before she found herself really outnumbered.

Dark would soon know her employment had been a ruse. He would know the files that were missing and why. She would soon have a price on her head, but that didn’t matter. Her only goal was to get to Grey before another attempt was made on his life.

She bypassed the elevator, opting for the stairway. It was easier to duck and run on the stairs. An elevator door opening on a load of firepower waiting for her was not a good idea.

Amazingly, she made it to the first floor without meeting anyone. Dawn was just starting to break, and she was living on borrowed time. She opened the front door and sprinted down the steps to the sidewalk. Heading to the back of the mansion, she went through the gate and into the woods. Her getaway car was hidden in bushes about two miles away.

Breath rasped from her aching lungs. She slipped and slid along the ground as she ran. Normally, she was surefooted and limber, but today she ran like an ox. She tripped over a tree root and fell face first onto the wet leaves. A part of her told her to stay there and rest awhile. No one was chasing her right now. She had time. But allowing herself to be seduced by exhaustion and pain was not an option. She had to get to Grey.

She pulled herself to her knees and then her feet. She knew she was bleeding somewhere, but she couldn’t stop to find out where. Once she was safely in the air, she’d give herself a quick checkup.

Spotting the car in the bushes where she’d left it, she felt as though she could fly. Adrenaline gave her wings. She was only hours away from Grey. That was all she cared about.