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Adrianne brought the shotgun around, but Tyrell lunged and grabbed the barrel, shoving it to one side. The shot went wild, slamming into the dirt outside. He yanked the weapon out of her hand and unloaded it. “Trying to shoot an officer of the law.” He shook his head and made a tutting sound. “That will get you into a heap of trouble.”

There was no way to get by him. He was too big, too strong. Her only hope was to escape out the back. She turned to run, but he grabbed her by the hair, brutally yanking her back. She caught a glimpse of Chester bolting toward the bedrooms and prayed he’d hide. Considering everything he’d done, Tyrell would think nothing of harming her beloved pet.

“Anyone would think you weren’t happy to see me.” His pale-blue eyes were filled with a gleeful light that terrified her to her very bones. He twisted his fist, sending a shaft of pain through her scalp, dragged her to a living room chair, and shoved her down onto it.

Think. She had to stay calm and watch for her opportunity. No one was coming to save her. As far as the police were concerned, she had the protection of one of their own.

Sam! Her heart cried out for him, but he was gone. Tyrell loomed over her, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Why are you doing this?” The question leaped from her lips. Even now, she didn’t understand. “I was your friend.”

She’d never been unkind, never done anything to warrant any of this.

“My friend.” He kicked the coffee table, sending it crashing onto its side. She jerked at the sudden act of violence. The deathly calm that followed was equally as chilling. The shotgun was lying on the floor. It was empty, but it would work as a club. Even better was the sidearm he wore. All she had to do was find a way to get it.

Keep him talking. As long as he was talking, she was alive. The minute he was done, she was dead. “Yes. We went to the prom together.”

He picked up a potted plant from a stand by the window and threw it at the hearth. It smashed, sending shards of pottery, dirt, and greenery everywhere. “ We went to prom together. ” The way he said it was mocking. “You let me believe I was special to you. Then you left. Without a single word.” The last was said as an accusation. He was breathing heavily now, his chest heaving. “You left me.”

Heart pounding, she dug her fingernails into her palms, using the bite of pain to steady herself. Whoever Tyrell had been, it was apparent she hadn’t really known him. No one had.

What kind of a fantasy world had he built up in his head? They’d been school friends. Never more than that. She drew on the communication skills she’d built up in her years working in human resources. They were rusty, but her life depended on them.

“I went away to college,” she offered slowly, pulling on her memories. “Didn’t you? You said you were going to be a lawyer.” He’d mentioned it several times the night of the prom.

He’d picked up a picture of her grandparents but slowly set it back on the shelf. “You remember?”

“Of course I remember.” She dug deeper. “You said you might even aim for the FBI after you had your law degree.”

He dragged his fingers through his hair. “There was no money for school. The old man drank what little extra we had. My mother was useless.”

Her grandparents hadn’t had much money, but she’d gotten loans and worked, putting herself through school. If it had meant that much to him, he’d have found a way. Not that she’d tell him that. “I’m sorry. That had to have been hard.”

“Hard!” Hands fisted, he began to pace in front of her. One, two three, turn. One, two, three, turn. “You have no idea. I came to talk to you, but you weren’t here. I thought we’d run off and start a life together.”

She didn’t dare take her eyes off him. He was a keg of dynamite one spark away from blowing. “I didn’t know.” It came out as a whisper, fear constricting her throat. “You never said anything, barely talked to me in school.” Her confusion was genuine because it was real.

“How could I?” She pressed back against the chair when he put his hands on the arms and leaned over her. “But I saw the way you looked at me, the way you watched me. I saw that you understood.”

Sweat trickled down her temple. He was so close his breath puffed over her face. Don’t turn away. Don’t turn away. As much as she wanted to, it would only urge him to greater violence. His nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed.

“I thought you were different, but you’re the same as all the rest,” he continued.

She took a shallow breath when he pushed away. Placate , she reminded herself. Get him to trust you. “I honestly had no idea, Tyrell.” Use his name. Make a connection.

“You should have. I tried to forget you. I lit out once you were gone. I went to New York City. I was going to show my father, show you and everyone in this one-horse town I was better than all of you.”

The way he deflected responsibility, blaming others for his problems, his sense of entitlement, all shouted at a narcissistic personality. His problems were always someone else’s fault.

“What happened in New York?”

“Bounced from one crap job to another. Watched the rich lawyers going to work in their ivory towers every day. Entitled bastards. Everyone knows only the ones from rich families get the good positions. But the longer I lived there, the more I understood they’re not the ones with the real power. That belongs to the cops.”

A psych evaluation should have caught his problems, but just because he was narcissistic didn’t mean he wasn’t smart enough to give the answers he knew were appropriate. Looking back, he’d done the same in school, tailoring his behavior for each teacher to garner the attention he craved.

“You’re not listening.” He ran his forearm over the top of the mantel, sending her grandparents’ wedding picture and the crystal candlesticks her granny had prized crashing to the floor. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

“I’m sorry.” She gripped the arms of her chair.

“You’re sorry. My mother was always sorry, too. Sorry the old man had to hit her, sorry when he hit me, but she didn’t stop it, did she?”

Although her throat was almost closed, she managed to reply. “No.”

“That’s right. The old lady finally did the world a favor and died of cancer. Now, where was I? Right, New York.”

His callousness at his mother’s death and his abrupt change in subject to bring it back to himself put an end to any hope she had of talking her way out of this. A strange calm settled over her. Fear receded and her senses sharpened.

“I became a cop. Had a few girlfriends over the years, but they were all bitches, whining at me to take them places, whining when I hit them.” He threw his head back and laughed. “Not like they could call the cops on me, could they?”

His assessment was horrifying but accurate. It was so outside her experience. All the police officers she’d met in her life had been honest, caring men and women who wanted to live up to the motto serve and protect . Look at Chief Johnson and the other Redemption officers—they’d gone out of their way to help her. The same thing in Chicago.

“Hard as I tried, I couldn’t forget you. Once I’d tracked you down, I got a job in Chicago. I liked that you didn’t have a boyfriend. Made me believe you were a true lady. You accepted my presents, seemed pleased by them. I saw you.” He sounded more like a petulant boy than a man. “I was ready to take our relationship to the next level, but you called the cops.”

That’s where she’d seen him, just one of many cops working at the Chicago police station. Her subconscious must have registered his presence even though she hadn’t recognized him.

“You had to pay for that. I watched and waited, but you ran from me again! Detective Ramirez was closemouthed about your whereabouts. I took the risk of breaking into his files, but there wasn’t anything there. Nobody was talking. Everyone seemed to forget all about you, but I didn’t.” He was pacing again. She inched to the edge of the chair. In his agitation, he took his attention off her and headed toward the kitchen.

Now! She bolted to the front door, slamming it open. His roar of anger echoed in her ears. Putting on a burst of speed, she sprinted toward the woods, expecting a bullet in the back any second. A gunshot blasted. Bark flew from a tree inches from her head, the shards splintering and scratching her face.

“Stop!”

Ignoring him, she ran.

…

The scythe was in Sam’s hands before he’d realized he’d grabbed it. Son of a bitch. Her stalker was a cop. No wonder he’d evaded detection. Tyrell Smith and Adrianne also had a history.

The shadows around him rippled. He clenched the scythe tighter. The hardest thing he’d ever done was stand in the corner and watch helplessly as the scene unfolded. Smith was out of his mind. He was also intelligent, sly, well trained, and in excellent shape—a dangerous combination.

Sam wanted him dead for daring to threaten her.

In the distance, a crow cawed, followed by another. When a bead of sweat rolled down Adrianne’s temple, one trickled down his. He monitored her heart rate and breathing, proud of the way she handled her stalker despite her fear. She read the man, giving him the attention he craved. Sam could all but hear her thoughts—she was waiting for an opportunity to either strike or run.

“Come on, come on,” he whispered under his breath, practically willing Smith to move away from her.

He watched the muscles in her arms tighten, her legs quiver. Like a runner at the starting block at the beginning of a race, she prepared herself for the coming flight. His heart leaped for joy when she made it out the front door, but the bastard was right behind her, with Sam right behind them.

Legs and arms pumping, hair flying, she was almost to the cover of the trees when Smith raised his gun. Sam didn’t touch him, but as he rushed by, a chilly wind assaulted the man. It was enough to throw off his aim and allow Adrianne to make it to the woods.

It wasn’t interference, in the strictest sense, but he was skating a very thin line, one that couldn’t be crossed. All he was doing was delaying the inevitable ending.

Adrianne zigzagged through the trees, making herself an unpredictable moving target. But Smith didn’t fire again. Holstering his weapon, his longer legs ate up the distance between them. “You won’t get away from me again, not this time.”

The bastard was enjoying himself, reveling in her fear. Sam easily kept pace, staying close to her, silently urging her to go faster. The flap of wings alongside him was a constant reminder that it wasn’t only her life on the line.

Streaks of blood marred her cheeks where flying bark had cut into them. Branches pulled at her hair as she ducked beneath them. She never broke stride. Risking a glance over her shoulder, she never saw the rock sticking out of the ground until it was too late.

As fast as she was traveling, there was no stopping. She flew through the air and hit the ground with a thud, knocking the wind out of her. Rolling onto her side, she sucked in air and struggled to rise.

Smith skidded to a stop beside her. “You belong to me,” he yelled down at her. It was the same thing he’d said on the note. “And you let another man into your bed. You cheated on me.”

The bones in Sam’s jaw began to crack under the pressure. Pain shot through his face before it healed. This extra anger was his fault. If he’d kept his distance, maybe she’d have had a chance.

Maybe that’d been part of the test.

His father had accused him of lacking empathy. What he was feeling now was nowhere close. Gut-twisting fury and bone-chilling helplessness were more accurate.

Adrianne gasped for breath. “I didn’t know you existed.”

“That’s no excuse.”

Smith didn’t want the truth. Stalking was all about power and control over the victim. Crows began to flock to the area, perching in the trees around them, silent and unnoticed by the two locked in the unfolding drama.

I can’t save her, can’t interfere with her fate.

It was the one rule all reapers lived by. Humans lived and died and the world kept on turning. Whether king or pauper, it made no difference; reapers escorted their souls to the afterlife. It had never bothered him before. It was simply what was.

Now it was a shackle, keeping him from doing what his heart screamed at him to do. He was being ripped apart from the inside out.

“Want to know how I found you?” Smith slowly circled her.

Like a cornered animal, Adrianne turned with him, not letting him out of her sight. She remained on the ground, which was a smart move. It left open the possibility to roll into him, take him to the ground, and steal his weapon. Sam could practically see her calculating the odds of success.

The background faded around Sam, a sign that the time was almost here. She would die, and he would help her make the transition. Invisible bands of steel wrapped around his chest, crushing it.

“I was considering abducting Detective Ramirez and beating the information out of him when I ran into Joley Bragg at a gun show in Louisville. I almost didn’t go, changed my mind at the last second. And there she was, big as life and filled with gossip about the town. She was full of news about how you’d run home with your tail between your legs. It shames me to admit it never occurred to me you’d come back here. I sure as hell never wanted to.” He kicked out, aiming for her stomach, but she scrambled far enough to take it in the thigh instead.

When she cried out in pain, Sam clenched the handle of the scythe with both hands, pretending it was Smith’s neck.

“It was fate, a sign that I needed to finish what I’d started. My biggest problem was getting enough time off work to get the job done.” He kicked out again, missing when she scuttled out of the way.

Sam’s gaze narrowed. The bastard was herding her toward a dense area of bushes with no easy escape. His heart pounded in his chest.

“Solved that problem easily enough. Came home on a weekend off and killed the old man. It was easy enough to slip something in his liquor bottle. No one would think it anything other than natural.”

“You killed your father?” Her shock wiped the smile from Smith’s face.

“Payback for all the times he kicked me around.” He licked his lips. “Now it’s your turn.”

Adrianne shot forward, driving into his legs. Caught off guard, he went down. Rather than run, she went for the gun.

Sam silently urged her on, even though it was futile, because the clock of her life was winding down. It was only a matter of seconds.

Do something!

Every cell in his body screamed at him to act, to halt this injustice, but then what? If she survived, she’d still be gone in a few decades, while he’d be confined to Shadowland for eternity, unable to reap, always alone. It would be endless torture. No human was worth sacrificing his life for. He’d honestly believed that when he’d been dropped in Redemption. He hadn’t understood her death would leave a stain on his soul, would brand him for eternity.

The struggle was short and brutal. Smith twisted her arm until she screamed. With his free hand, he backhanded her.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh was nothing new to Sam—mankind had been killing one another since the dawn of time—but the strike reverberated through his entire being. Overhead, clouds barreled in, covering the sun. Thunder rumbled. A flash of lightning crisscrossed the sky. All the crows but one took flight in a flurry of wings and fled.

Adrianne raked her nails down her stalker’s cheek, leaving bloody furrows.

“You bitch,” Smith roared. Lunging forward, he wrapped his fingers around her throat and squeezed.

“No!” The force of Sam’s anger blasted her assailant away. He flew and smashed into a tree, screaming when a bone snapped in his arm.

Malaki began to squawk, but he was done listening to his father’s messenger. He’d often heard humans describe fury as seeing the world through a red haze that blocked all rational thought, leaving only emotion. For him, it was the opposite. Everything around him came into razor-sharp focus. His mind became as clear as ice. He stepped out of the void, becoming visible.

“Sam?” Adrianne’s voice was rough, the blotchy marks on her neck a visible sign of what had been done to her. She shook her head, her eyes huge.

Smith jumped to his feet and pulled his gun. “You can’t have her. She’s mine.” He fired.

The bullets slammed into Sam’s chest. Adrianne screamed his name. Undaunted, he continued forward. The bullets worked their way out of his body and dropped at his feet. The wounds sealed and healed.

Smith’s face was white as snow, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What the fuck are you?” He continued to fire the weapon long after he was out of ammunition. “Why won’t you die?”

“Can’t you tell?” His voice was soft and low but reverberated like a cannon shot. He lifted the scythe. “I’m a fucking reaper.” The blade cut through the air, stopping a hairsbreadth from Smith’s chest. As satisfying as it would be to obliterate him, having a body would make dealing with the authorities easier. But as long as Tyrell Smith lived, Sam would be in danger.

Smith started to laugh. That’s when Sam used the tip of the scythe to hook into the man’s spirit. The laughter was choked off as he grabbed his chest. “What—”

His spirit wasn’t ready to leave, but he was no match for a reaper. With a hard yank, Sam jerked the reluctant spirit from its vessel. The lifeless body dropped to the ground. His defiant spirit glared at Sam. “I’ll be back. I’ll find a way.”

That’s what Sam was afraid of. It was rare, but it had happened. There was only one way to be sure. “No, you won’t.” The scythe whistled through the air. An explosion of light blew outward before stopping midair and pulling back into a dark void. It winked out of existence and was no more.

Sam lowered his head, accepting his fate. He’d broken their most sacred law. His life was forfeit. So be it. Better that than spending eternity reliving the death of the woman he loved.