Dressed in black, Sebastian stood before the largest audience he’d ever faced. It had taken more than a little encouragement to get them all here. They were understandably wary. Assassins had a healthy sense of self-preservation, along with a high level of distrust. Being invited to an open-air event on such short notice would make the normal person somewhat curious. For an assassin, it made them deadlier.

He had implemented precautions. No one could get through the gates unless they relinquished their weapons. Some had refused, and he had let them know in no uncertain terms that they either followed the rules or they would not be allowed access to the party. Only two people had walked away. The rest, some throwing out a vicious curse or two, had surrendered their weapons.

Even dressed in elegant evening attire and without weapons, they were still lethal. An accomplished assassin didn’t need a weapon to kill. A weapon was expedient. Skill and intent mattered much more than the instrument. Properly motivated, a man or woman could kill with bare hands or any innocuous object. However, taking their weapons should at least ensure there wouldn’t be a bloodbath. There would be bloodletting tonight, but he was the only one who would have that privilege.

“Welcome, everyone, to my little soirée. I apologize for the short notice. However, I fully intend for you to be both entertained and enthralled tonight.”

His eyes roamed around the small stadium. Reed had built this area for training and demonstrations. This was the first time it had been used as an entertainment venue. But even that would be educational. The assassin community had doubts about him as a leader. They needed visual proof of his strength and prowess.

With its leader having died without a successor, Hill House needed a strong, powerful leader to maintain its status in the community. Sebastian, along with several others, had campaigned to become the new head. Five assassins had placed their bids and proposals. At the time of Reed’s death, Hill House had had twenty full-time assassins. After he died, several had gone off on their own, a couple had died, and one had been arrested and was now sitting on death row. Hill House had needed a strong leader to not only gather the remaining chicks and bring them back home, but to attract new blood.

Killing a competitor had been strictly forbidden to win the job, but everything else was fair game, including stealing or sabotaging contracts, as well as old-fashioned bribery. Sebastian had employed all of those tactics, plus a few only he knew about. And though it had been a close race between him and another assassin, Sebastian prevailed.

That should have been the end of it. Hill House should have been thriving once more. But still there was resistance, doubt. Tonight’s event should dissolve all uncertainty. Sebastian Dark was the new leader. After his performance tonight, he anticipated a deluge of requests to become Hill House assassins.

So far, everyone had behaved civilly to one another. They had eaten thousands of dollars’ worth of caviar and foie gras while guzzling Dom Perignon like it was water. And now it was time for the main event. Time to show the prowess and stamina of Hill House’s new boss.

The attendees had been ushered to the outside arena with almost no fuss. They knew tonight was about more than a social occasion. They were about to witness something phenomenal, something that few living people had ever seen. Sebastian Dark was about to reveal himself.

Nodding at the guards, Sebastian stood in the middle of the arena and waited for his first contestant to arrive. Three men would assist in showing his guests just how special Sebastian Dark really was.

The first one to enter was the guard who was on duty the night Irelyn Raine broke into the records room. Shuffling across the arena in leg irons, his arms cuffed behind him, he didn’t look particularly impressive. That was not a problem. Physically fighting the man was not the goal. Assassins didn’t have to be the strongest or the most lethal in hand-to-hand. Hill Reed had been a slender man of medium height, but his mastery had never been in question. And while Sebastian was much taller and more powerful-looking, proving his physical prowess was not the point.

Standing at just over six feet and weighing in at a meaty two hundred and eighty pounds, the guard had been slow in his pursuit of Raine. Though he had put out the alert the moment she’d run through the front door, his inability to capture her had earned his punishment. Because he had tried his best, Dark was taking pity on him. The other two wouldn’t be so fortunate.

He picked up his preferred firearm from the table beside him, a Wilson Combat 9mm. Oddly enough, guns scared him. The blasts nauseated him, and even when using a silencer, he often lost his concentration because of the inane fear that the silencer wouldn’t work. Only Hill Reed had known this and had, in fact, almost given up on him because of it. In his less-kind moments, he had even allowed some of the other trainees to use him as a target or punching bag. Out of sheer necessity and fear for his life, Sebastian had become an expert marksman. Though guns would never be his chosen weapons, showing his audience that he was proficient in using a firearm was a must.

The man, shaking and pale, was tied to a post. In a small bit of whimsy, Sebastian had instructed that the man have a red target tattooed on his forehead. Seeing it brought a smile to Sebastian’s face, lightening his mood, easing his tension.

The length of the arena was thirty yards, which was a little longer than the average gun range. Hitting a motionless object was less of a challenge than a moving one. However, for demonstration purposes, this was perfect. He raised his weapon without further fanfare, aimed, and fired twice. The first bullet eviscerated the bull’s-eye target, and the second bullet went into the man’s broad chest, creating a nice, round, red complement to the hole in his forehead.

Sebastian didn’t expect applause. That wasn’t the reason for the exhibition, but when he heard a smattering through the small crowd, he couldn’t resist a small bow. The lights were all on him, and the people were merely shadows, but he swore he felt their approval, admiration. Hill would be so pleased with him.

Without further aplomb, the carcass of his first prey was hurriedly removed, and the setup for the second demonstration commenced. Since it would take a moment or two, Sebastian took several sips of still water while he surreptitiously tried to overhear what his audience members were saying to one another. He could hear tittering and whispering. He knew they had to be impressed, but he wanted more. He wanted what Hill Reed had had. He wanted adoration and adulation. If he didn’t already possess it after the first demonstration, the second would go a long way in achieving it. By the time he finished tonight, he would likely be a legend.

Two more men shuffled in, their chains and handcuffs clanging in a rhythmic noise that sounded almost musical. The first one was small, wiry, and mean as a jackal. Sebastian had seen him kill men twice his size without breaking a sweat. He should have been able to handle Irelyn Raine with no problem. Instead, he’d been found unconscious, with a lump on his head, a broken nose, and a severely bruised groin. She’d taken him down as if he’d been an amateur.

The second one was twice the size of the other one, but with a pea-sized intellect. Still, with his brawn, he should’ve been able to kill her with one sweep of a giant fist. Instead, she had taken him down, too.

They were both an embarrassment to Hill House and to Sebastian. Because of that, they would die together in Sebastian’s favorite way.

Picking up his preferred weapon, Sebastian made a slow, 360-degree turn so everyone could get a good look at its beauty. Made of the finest leather, the whip had a distinctive characteristic. At the very end, a naked length of piano wire had been added, extending the whip to nine feet. There wasn’t another one like it in the whole world. And no one could wield the whip so elegantly or masterfully.

Finding a weapon he could master had taken him years. During that time, Hill Reed had abused and used him in any way he saw fit. Later, Sebastian realized it had been his father’s way of motivating him to prove his worth. It worked. Sebastian was determined to find a weapon he could master that would help him not only become a premier assassin, but also make his father proud. He found that in the bullwhip.

He became so adept that Reed commissioned this special whip just for Sebastian’s use. It was presented to him on graduation day, which in the assassin world, was the day of his first contracted kill. That was also the day Hill had allowed him to choose a new identity. He had selected the name Sebastian Dark, which, to his mind, sounded both lethal and elegant. It fit his persona perfectly.

In a kill, Sebastian could wrap the whip around his target’s neck from a distance. One swift jerk of his hand would break the neck. If Sebastian was in a special frame of mind, or even upon request, he would stand farther back and employ the wire. Not only would that break the neck, but the throat would also be sliced open. Sure, it was overkill, but sometimes that was what the client wanted. Sebastian lived to serve.

Tonight, he lived to impress. Nodding at the men who’d led his targets into the arena, they unlocked the shackles and cuffs and left. The instant his prey were free, they bolted toward the exit. Feeling as powerful as a god, Sebastian strode forward and swung the whip. It caught the smaller one, encircling his neck. With a swift, powerful jerk, Sebastian swept the man off his feet and then flung him to the ground. The pop of his neck was almost obscured by the audience’s gasp.

Sebastian was unable to appreciate their awe. The big one changed course and charged him like an enraged bull. Startled, he backed up slightly and looked around. The man was getting too close for the whip to work. His mind in a panic, he picked up the gun he’d used earlier and unloaded the entire magazine into the giant’s massive chest. The thudding crash of his big body echoed through the now silent arena.

His breath coming in gasps, Sebastian dared a peek at his audience. As he had instructed, the stadium lights had been turned on once the demonstration was over. He had anticipated seeing the awe and respect he deserved. Instead, he was stunned into immobility by their expressions. Boredom. He even saw anger in a few. No one seemed the least bit impressed with his power or expertise. Admittedly, the last kill hadn’t gone as smoothly as he would have liked, but quick thinking had nevertheless ensured the kill.

Refusing to believe that he had not earned their admiration, Sebastian gave his most arrogant smile and bowed. He had learned bravado from a master. His head held high, he turned and walked out of the arena without a backward glance.