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PROLOGUE

ORION

The life of a ghost is lonely, but necessary.

In the beginning, I thrived on the solitude. After so many years of being at the mercy of others, I was finally strong enough to stand on my own, to build the life I never dared hope for.

But there’s something missing.

A queen.

Ruling over the drug distribution for the entirety of North America has kept me busy, but all this power has felt empty for a while now.

Every time I’ve come close to finding a woman strong enough to stand by my side and rule my kingdom, something gets in the way.

But I’m nothing if not a patient man.

There have been times when I’ve thought she was right in front of me, where I thought I could cheat fate and find the woman that would rule by my side by less than savory methods, but I learned quickly that true love, true infatuation can’t be bought. Most things in this world can be, but not that.

And if I’m honest with myself, those women may have been adequate rulers. They may have learned to love me and to acceptthe things I do to provide for us, but I don’t want a meek woman. I don’t want a figurehead. I don’t want someone who will bow to me because I’m her husband.

I want the fire.

I want the passion.

And I want a woman who will burn the world down for me, the same way I will for her.

So I’ll be patient. I’ll scour this earth until I find her.

And once I do, she’ll never be free of me.

CHAPTER ONE

EMBER

Ascream tears from my throat as I jolt straight up in bed, sweat soaking through the sleep shirt I pulled on before I crashed.

You’d think after almost a year of these nightmares, I’d be used to them, but if anything, they’re getting worse. More violent. More horrifying. Harder to drag myself out of.

I run my trembling hand over my face and sigh. I need to get it together.

It’s been eleven months since the accident. Eleven months since I lost the only person in this world I could rely on, that I’ve ever been able to trust, but that saying about time healing all wounds is straight up bullshit. The people who say those kinds of things are just trying to make themselves feel better. If they’d ever felt true loss, they’d know an open wound like that remains a gaping hole, and the pain only intensifies as you forget the little things.

The sound of their voice.

What their hugs felt like.

The way their eyes lit up when they smiled.

Those are the things I’ve been grappling with these last few months, and I don’t think I’ll truly feel better until the man responsible for my brother’s death meets his own end.

I shove myself off the lumpy mattress and glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Three in the morning would be a shitty time to wake up for most people, but when I only crawled into bed a little over an hour ago, I know it’s going to be a long as fuck day.

After a quick shower to wash away the nightmare, I step into the living room of my tiny one-bedroom apartment.

Before Travis died, we had a bigger place in a better neighborhood. My big brother promised me when we lived on the streets that one day he’d make enough money to get us a real house, something we hadn’t had in a long time, but he died before he could make that happen. He was stolen from me.

Pushing the thoughts down, I move to the kitchen and flick the coffee machine on before dropping down in front of my laptop. I’ve been neglecting my search for his killer for the last month. Not because I’m not desperate to see him pay for what he did, but because Lucas has been giving me twice as many jobs to complete now that it’s just me paying off our debt.