Chapter Nine
This fucking balaclava is going to kill me.
I rip it off and drag in a breath as if I’ve been suffocating, the cold air slamming into my skin and doing nothing. Nothing to cool the burn crawling under it.
“You okay, Eiden?” Beau steps into the hallway, watching me as though he’s trying to read me.
“Yeah.” The word grinds out of me as I shake my head, jaw tight, trying to get a grip. “Tamsin… she just—” I rub a hand over my face, scrubbing at the heat that’s settled behind my eyes, as if I can erase it.
Beau doesn’t fill the silence, he just waits.
“You really like her, don’t you?”
His voice is quiet, no teasing, no smirk, but it still hits harder than I want it to. Caleb appears behind him, carrying a plate of food and a bottle of water. For her.
Fuck.
“I…” My back hits the wall and I let my head fall forward, as though gravity’s got the answer I don’t.
“I don’t fucking know. She’s addictive. I’m obsessed with her.
With her darkness. With how unhinged she is.
Her taste…” My teeth grit. “It’s insane, I know it is.
But I’d go to war over the way she moans.
Over the blood she spills. Over the fact she doesn’t flinch when I get violent. ”
Caleb’s voice cuts through, calm but edged. “So what now?”
“Now…” I lift my head, locking eyes with both of them. “Now we help her finish her hunt.”
“And after?” Beau asks, gaze unblinking. “When she goes back home? Back to her aunt, cousin, and her old life?”
“She won’t.” I push off the wall, each step forward heavy. “She’ll never leave this place.” My voice drops lower, certain. “She’ll never leave me.”
“Fuck, Eiden,” Beau mutters, a short, low laugh following him as Caleb moves to knock on her door.
“Be careful,” I call after him. “She bites. And wear your mask.”
I head for the office. My boots drag a heavy rhythm over the hardwood until I drop into my chair, and the screens flare to life. Sterling’s entire file blooms across them—maps, names, movement logs, weak points. Tonight, it’s not Tamsin hunting him, it’s us.
“She hit him with the plate,” Beau says from the doorway, grinning.
I turn just enough to catch him, biting back the smirk that tries to pull at my mouth. Of course she did.
There’s a reason I call her hellcat. Caleb’s a walking wall in combat gear and a mask that makes most grown men rethink their lives, but not her. Tamsin doesn’t scare easy, and that’s a problem. A dumb, dangerous, and so fucking sexy I can barely think straight, problem.
“Is he okay?” I ask, turning back to the screens, making the last adjustments to our plan.
“He’ll live,” Beau replies, dropping into the seat beside me. “We doing this tonight?”
I nod once. “Yeah.”
She’s been doing all the dirty work herself while we’ve played cleanup, but that ends now.
“It’s about damn time,” Beau says, clapping me on the back. “Tamsin’s been killing off her list while we played catch-up. Let’s go get your girlfriend’s gift.”
I stand, grabbing the gear without looking at him. “She’s not my girlfriend,” I stiffen, jaw tight.
The word girlfriend is too small. Too clean. It doesn’t fit her.
Caleb steps in with a gun in one hand and a lighter in the other, the corner of his mouth curling under the mask. “Right. She’s your obsession.”
He’s not wrong.
The problem is… she’s starting to become more than that, but there’s no chance in hell I’m ever telling them that.
It’s late when we reach the mansion where Sterling’s been hiding, tucked away while some of his men waste their time searching for Bram.
Good luck with that—they won’t find him.
We’re already geared up, masks down, gloves cinched tight, guns and knives strapped around our waists and chests.
Beau waits in the van, his voice our lifeline in the comms, feeding us the map in our ears.
Without him, this place would swallow us whole.
It’s a huge estate that looks more like a fucking maze than a house.
“I can’t wait to burn this to the ground,” Caleb mutters as we sink into the shadows at the edge of the tree line.
“We’re not burning it to the ground,” I growl back. The fucker’s been getting more pyromaniac by the week. “You really need to get laid.”
“You’re no fun, brother.” His chuckle is low, already moving toward the perimeter wall. I crouch, hands laced to give him a boost. He jumps up, scanning the other side before leaning down to grip my forearm and hauling me over.
“Coast is clear,” Beau’s voice hums in my ear. “Two at the front entrance. Armed.”
I signal left, and Caleb slips into the dark without hesitation, a shadow moving over stone.
We hit the first two guards like a storm breaking.
My hand clamps over one’s mouth just as Caleb’s arm hooks around the other’s throat.
The muffled crack of vertebrae almost disappears into the night air.
My blade slides under the first man’s chin, angled up until it breaks through into his mouth.
His eyes blow wide, breath hitching in a wet choke as steel steals his voice.
I keep the pressure until his weight sags, knees folding.
We drag the bodies into the hedgerow’s shadow and keep moving. Beau’s voice is a steady thread, guiding us through the servant halls that stink of mildew and old polish, steering us away from the slow, lazy sweep of roaming patrols.
“Incoming,” he warns. “Three guards, east hall, heading your way.”
Caleb’s grin is audible under the mask. “I’ll take two.”
We slip into an alcove, letting the trio pass, and fall in behind them like shadows.
Caleb strikes first—one knife to the kidney of the first guard, another to the neck of the second.
He drags them into the dark before the metal even clatters to the floor.
I take the third, my palm smothering his mouth as my blade finds the base of his spine.
The kills pile up quietly, minutes stretching long until the mansion’s halls are hushed, the only sound our boots across marble.
“Bedroom’s west wing,” Beau says. “Sterling’s inside. No movement.”
The hallway there is choked with thick rugs, muffling every step as the air grows heavier. We ease the door open just enough to slip through.
There he is: Sterling. He’s sprawled out on a king-sized bed, mouth open, completely blind to the fact this will be his last peaceful moment.
Caleb shuts the door behind us, and I stand still, knife in hand, smiling beneath the mask.
“Wake him up,” I murmur.
Caleb moves, silent and predatory, and the bastard doesn’t even stir until it’s too late. One huge hand clamps over Sterling’s mouth.
“Wake up, sweetheart,” Caleb murmurs, voice low and mocking.
Sterling’s eyes snap open, pure panic flooding in before he can catch up. He thrashes under Caleb’s grip, but it’s laughable. Caleb drags him off the bed in one brutal motion, his face grinding into the carpet. The sounds of his screams are muffled.
I crouch in front of him, sliding the gag between his teeth. “You know,” I say lightly, “you were very popular on our site. Lot of traffic on your profile. Turns out when you rape enough women, people really want to have you killed.”
My voice drops into a chuckle as I grab the back of his head and slam it into the floor, crushing bone. His nose bursts, blood soaking fast into the fibers beneath him. The muffled scream through the gag is almost satisfying enough on its own.
“I thought he was for Tamsin,” Caleb says, hauling Sterling upright by the collar as if he weighs nothing.
“He is,” I reply, pulling the syringe from my pocket and tapping it gently. “But bringing him alive is close enough.”
Sterling starts shaking his head violently, sweat sliding down his temple. Caleb’s laugh is dark, curling at the edges while he shoves him back to his knees.
“You see this, Eiden? He’s sweating already.” Caleb tilts his head, leaning close enough that his mask grazes Sterling’s cheek. “You scared, Sterling? You should be. You’ve got no idea how much she hates you, and trust me—she’s not going to be gentle.”
I grab his jaw, forcing him to meet my gaze. “If she didn’t want you for herself, I’d test her little ritual on you tonight.”
The knife catches the low light as I trace the tip just under his chin, slow enough for him to feel every inch. “You know what it feels like when a blade goes up through the mouth? It’s not quick. It’s warm, and it drowns you slowly.”
He tries to jerk back, but Caleb’s grip only tightens.
“Careful,” Caleb says, mock cheer dripping from his tone. “He might piss himself, and then I’ll have to kill him for smelling bad before we even get him to her.”
I smirk behind the mask, syringe steady in my hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll make it to her alive.” I lean in close, letting him see nothing but the black cloth and my eyes. “But you’re going to wish you didn’t.”
One deep breath and I knock.
Quick footsteps on the other side, light, fast, and I know she was up to something. Of course she fucking was.
The door swings open just in time for a desk lamp to come flying at my head. I duck as glass and metal explode against the wood behind me.
“Fuck, Tamsin!” I surge forward, pinning her with a force that rattles the floorboards.
“Enough,” I growl, one hand twisted in her hair, the other around her waist. “You throw one more thing and I swear I’ll tie your wrists to the headboard until you learn manners.”
“Let me go, you dipshit!” she yells, kicking and twisting as if she’s trying to shatter every bone in my hands.
“Funny,” I mutter, dragging her in tight, “you weren’t fighting when I went down on you… twice.” I pin her against me so she can feel there is no escape.
“Well, I wasn’t being held hostage, was I?” She thrashes again, but my arms lock around her waist with iron force.
“I got him for you,” I murmur against her ear, and just like that, she freezes. Her chest rises and falls hard, and slowly she tilts her head back to look at the mask.
“Him? Who?”
“Sterling.”
I loosen my hold. Her brown eyes go wide and narrow into a slow, dangerous smile. “Why?”
“Because he was yours to take.” I shrug and gesture toward the hall. “Shall we?”
She steps ahead of me, combat boots and that black dress, hair pulled into a loose ponytail, makeup smudged in smoky rings around her eyes. She’s fucking perfect like this: raw, unpolished, dangerous.
As we walk, her gaze drifts over the walls, taking in every detail. “How can you afford all of this?” she asks, then stops dead, and I almost run into her.
She turns, stepping into my space. Her voice drops low, careful. “Who are you? Who is Eidolon?”
“A ghost,” I say.
Her frown deepens, and my lips curl into a slow smirk under the mask. That fire in her eyes… if she had a knife, she’d already be testing how deep she could sink it into me.
“Tell me something that isn’t on Google,” she challenges, hands on her hips, head tilted.
Fuuuuccckkk.
“We kill people,” Caleb says from behind her.
She jumps at the sound, and instinct sends her a step closer to me. One small motion, but it makes my pulse slam. She doesn’t even realize it yet, but I’d rip the world in half to keep her safe.
“So do I,” she fires back, arms crossing, trying to look unshaken, but her breathing gives her away. Caleb tilts his head, watching her the way a predator studies prey.
“We kill evil people,” I clarify. “Murderers. Rapists. Pedophiles. People hire us through a dark site.”
I move past her toward Caleb. He hasn’t moved, not for a second.
“So people pay you for that?” she asks, falling into step.
“Some do. Others… are pro bono,” Caleb says with a shrug.
She hums, not pushing. We descend into the basement, the air cooling with every step. I stop at the steel door and gesture. “Go on.”
Tamsin’s fingers twitch as she grips the handle. She pushes the door open, and the gasp that leaves her is pure, unfiltered satisfaction to my ears.
The room is draped in plastic sheeting, drains cut into the floor, and Sterling is chained naked to the wall, head down, shivering.
“I am never, ever, getting a dude naked again. He pissed himself!” Beau’s voice cuts from the corner as he sets the last scalpel on the table.
Tamsin turns to me. “You did this for me?”
The way she says it, like I’ve just flown her to Paris and set her at a table overlooking the Seine, makes something primal twist inside me.
“Yeah.” My voice is steady, but inside I’m already unraveling. She’s going to be my undoing.
“You two have fun.” Beau claps my shoulder on his way out.
“Thank you,” she says softly, eyes flicking to both men. They pause, nod once, and leave, closing the door.
“I’m going to leave you to it, hellcat,” I murmur, brushing my hand along her back as I pass. Just enough to feel her skin, but it’s nowhere near enough. I want to touch her. I want to kneel. I want to taste her until she forgets her own fucking name.
“Stay,” she whispers, stopping me mid-step. “If you want to.”
I turn, meet her gaze through the mask. “Yeah. I want to.”
I’m already hard in anticipation, because I’m about to watch her cut Sterling’s balls off.