Damaged (Erebus Assassins #3)

Chapter One

F unny thing about sunrises was they could either make a person feel joy, sadness, or nostalgia, and if Rogue had to put a feeling to the orange color bursting at the skyline visible from the balcony of his shitty one-bedroom apartment, he’d probably choose sadness.

There wasn’t much to feel joy about and nothing in his past brought up any nostalgia.

He took a long swallow of the fresh beer he’d opened. So fucking what if it was six o’clock in the morning and the city of Oxnard, California was still waking up. He should have started with coffee, but the pot was brewing on the faded yellow countertop and the beer had certainly cut the morning mustard. Not to mention, it helped with the hangover from the previous night.

Not that drinking had helped. And long after he had passed out, the nightmares had come like clockwork.

His phone buzzed insistently, and he snatched it up from the dingy kitchen counter.

Savage Markel’s name flashed on the screen, and he sighed. The Erebus assassin’s leader was a pain in his ass right now—he wasn’t ready to make a decision to go back to Erebus.

“What,” Rogue growled into the phone before taking a swallow from his beer.

“I know you haven’t decided if you want to join us again, but I have something that really needs your attention,” Savage said calmly, taking the wind out of his irritation.

The man had patience in spades. Savage had a way about him that could soothe a wild animal.

“That means get your ass to the office,” Thane’s voice came through the phone from somewhere in the same vicinity as Savage.

Thane, on the other hand, was as impatient as all hell, and Rogue smirked at the demanding tone.

“I’m not coming to the office.”

“Hush up,” Savage told Thane, his voice muffled in the phone, and then became stronger once again. “I’m not asking you to, but I need your help.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you need, and I’ll see if I can do it.”

“There is word on the streets about another young assassin and I’d like you to bring him in,” Savage said.

“Do you have a name?”

“Only a first name.”

That was fitting, Rogue thought. Solomon had beat any memory of last names out of their heads. Rogue didn’t even know if he had family out there and hadn’t done any DNA tests to check…nor would he.

The past was in the past.

“Who is it?”

“Rebel.”

A cherub face with dark curly hair and dark eyes came to mind. The boy had been seven years old and all arms and legs when he’d last seen him roughly ten years ago.

After a brief stint at Solomon’s warehouse, Rebel had been taken away. Guilt cleaved a sick feeling in his gut. He had thought the boy had ended up at one of Solomon’s other facilities.

But maybe Rebel had been sold off to Tanis. Bile coated his tongue. Solomon had supplied Tanis with a lot of boys through the years.

Thoughts of the part he had played came up like vomit and he squeezed the phone and took a quick swallow of beer before setting it aside.

Walking into the kitchen, he poured a cup of fresh black coffee and took a slow sip, forcing back thoughts of the past.

He only knew one thing for sure, it was a good god damned thing both Tanis and Solomon were already dead.

While Solomon Mercy had been diabolical by snatching children, himself included, from the streets and turning them into killers, Tanis had done much worse in Rogue’s mind. Tanis had molested the young boys who were sold to him via Solomon. Tanis had kept them in cages until they aged out and grew too old for the man’s sick, twisted cravings. From there, Rogue suspected that Tanis had either killed them or sold them.

And he was to blame. If he had only stepped up and reported Solomon, then none of this would have happened.

Tanis was dead, he reminded himself.

Real, the leader of Genesis, had killed Tanis with his bare hands. Rogue had heard the story from Echo and Fisher.

With sheer brute force, Real had shoved Tanis’ head through a set of bars that wasn’t designed to fit a human head. He would have loved to have seen that and the sick fuck’s brains spattering to the floor.

“Rogue?” Savage murmured, yanking him from his dark thoughts.

“Rebel is only seventeen,” Rogue murmured.

“Well, shit,” Savage muttered. “If that fucker wasn’t dead…” The rest of the words Savage left unspoken, but Rogue knew they all felt the same way about Solomon.

He was fiercely glad Solomon was dead, but back when it mattered, he had stuck by the man he had considered a father, and regrets didn’t mean shit. He’d done what he’d done, and he would pay for it for the rest of his life.

“I’ll find him. Are you offering him sanctuary?” Rogue asked roughly, running his fingers through his hair.

“If he wants out of the business, I have a spot for him at Dave’s place and he can go back to school. If he wants to stay in the game, then offer him a place with Erebus. I’ll go over the rules about waiting until he’s eighteen.”

“Why not just leave him alone? I can find out where he’s living and help him with money.”

Some of Solomon’s boys were so broken that nothing could help them, but Rogue would try like hell to make sure they could survive. It was the least he could do—he owed every single one of them.

“I suspect that Rebel killed an innocent man.”

“No fucking way.”

Solomon’s boys never killed innocent people unless their own lives were at risk…and really, when someone threatened your life, were they even considered innocent?

“Granted, it had been an accident, but a man is dead, and Rebel was at the scene. He’s out there getting into trouble.”

“At the scene doesn’t mean he killed the guy.”

“There was a witness.”

That right there raised Rogue’s suspicions. “Reputable?”

Savage let out a long breath. “Not really, but you could check into that while tracking Rebel. You’re one of the best out there on the streets, Rogue. I have no doubts you can find him and bring him in.”

“I kill people for a living, Savage. I don’t find people,” he reminded the man.

“You’re one of the best at locating these boys,” the man countered.

Savage had way more confidence in him than he had in himself, and Rogue wanted to caution the guy but decided, fuck it. He’d go out there and find Rebel and see why this witness said he had killed a man.

“Give me the address.”

“Great! You’ll definitely get paid for this,” Savage said and rattled off the address. “I’ll have Wrath meet you there.”

Savage hung up the phone before Rogue could voice the quick protest of denial bursting from his lips.

“No! Damn it!” He slammed the phone on the counter. No way in hell did he want that hot blond distraction on a job with him.

Wrath…with his come-hither steel-blue eyes that sent cravings shooting through him—desires that he shouldn’t have. The shoulder-length dark blond hair that Rogue itched to touch. He’d never felt the texture of it, but it looked silky. With a sleekly muscled build, the man stood at eye level. Perfect size for tipping the guy’s chin slightly up and taking his mouth, but Rogue had never done that.

And he never would. Although, he couldn’t miss the fact that Wrath wanted him.

Rogue scowled at nothing and swallowed the rest of his coffee before abruptly jamming the chunky mug back on the counter.

Wrath was off-limits.

Period. No excuses.

He gave a split-second thought about returning Wrath’s earlier good morning text and telling the assassin that he could handle the job alone, but he didn’t.

And he didn’t look too closely at why he didn’t tell Wrath not to come on the job.

Getting ready, he grumbled the whole time and concluded that he’d show up tonight and give Wrath the cold shoulder.

That should derail the guy’s interest.

Right?