Page 5

CHAPTER 4

F uck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

I race through the twisting halls of Stalkers’ Rest. I checked Shy’s office first, but he wasn’t there. Sometimes I forget I can just go through the ceiling, and when I remember, I almost smack myself. Rising as quickly as I can, I head to the penthouse—the commander’s apartment.

She’s in big fucking trouble.

I have been watching Tate Havelock for four years at his command, and during that time, I have come to know her well. At first, I thought Shy was wrong, that she isn’t the one, but he was right, as always. How annoying. She has a backbone of steel. When others would have faltered or died, she survived. She gathers secrets and friendships as easily as she breathes, using them when she needs to. She’s intelligent, powerful, and one hell of a woman. If I were able to, I would have hit on her years ago.

She’s beautiful, but it’s more than that.

Her soul is pure and full of life. I found myself drawing closer just to feel her presence during the four years I’ve spent watching her and reporting to Shy as our plan sluggishly moved forward. The others, our brothers spread out at the other command posts, do the same to change this from the inside out.

His grand plan all hinges on her.

One woman.

I hated her at first, thinking she would become like them, but she never did, and she seemed oblivious to their true intentions and proclivities. It almost made me pity her, but I could not interfere. Now I wish I had ignored my orders.

She’s in danger. I followed her unconscious body as they drove to a black site and dumped her in the cell. She will wake up soon, and when she does, they won’t hesitate to do what they need to. I know Black well enough to understand that and have watched him kill countless people who got in his way. Our plan is important, more important than anything, but for it to succeed, we need her alive.

I need her alive.

As I float through his security measures and walls, his wards flow across me, allowing me access, and I rush to his bedroom. It’s late, so he will be resting, but he must sense me when I enter. We are tied together, all of us. Not even death can tear us apart—not that anyone knows.

I face Shamus as he sits up in bed, his eyes hard. “What is it?” he demands.

“Tate. She’s in trouble. She found out the truth, and they turned on her. Shamus, they are going to kill her.”