ella

old. I crouched behind the snow-draped stone rockery in the estate garden, the rough granite pr

d heavily against

boss was a hulking mass of a man, his face flushed with cheap whiskey and unadulterated lust. He was rubbing his thick hands together, a predatory, sickening grin plastered across h

wed, playing the part of the submissive servant perfectly. Sh

knob and stepped into the dark room where Adina lay unconsc

p was s

ible nod toward the dark garden and vanished into the shado

ting a stash of military-grade dynamite beneath the guest wing and burying a rival boss in the rubble, I was framing the Marshalls for the ultimate sin. Hoarding illegal weapons and assassinating a boss

ed the

was only the howling wind.

blinding, apocalyptic pillar of orange and red fire. The shockwave hit me like a physical blow, sending a spray of snow and d

e perimeter get lifted entirely off his feet. He was thrown through the

perfectly picture the chaos inside-Adrienne bursting into the ballroom, her face pale with

mily was offici

ermined escape route through the deepest shadows of the garden. The snow was slippery, and

rockery, my eyes fixed on the

med into a solid

r my mouth, violently jerking me backward into the pitch-b

ashed, my hands clawing at the leath

n. It was the overwhelming, metallic stench of fresh, hot blood,

. It was a low, smooth baritone that sen

king in the immaculate burgundy suit that seemed to absorb the fiery glow of the burning estate. His face

he snow at his expensive leather shoes lay the bodies of two Marshal

Damien 'The Ghost' Guerrero, the c