Chapter Two
“You got everything?” I turn to Beau.
He nods, already slipping into that headspace: quiet, cold, focused. We’ve done this enough times to fall into rhythm without words.
The request came through our site on the dark web—a father, desperate to get justice for his daughter. I pick up the file for one final read-through.
Henry Lane. Thirty-six. Head administrator at some overpriced private college where he targets his students, lures them into his office, rapes them, and uses the security footage to blackmail them into silence.
Our investigation confirmed over twenty assaults in the last year alone.
One of the parents tried to go to the police.
The hospital even collected DNA and filed a report, but someone showed up at their door with a threat: “Keep quiet, or else.” So, everything disappeared—the file, the samples, the evidence.
He thinks he’s untouchable. And he was, until now. Until us.
The Eidolon was born inspired by the monsters we called parents. A decade ago, they proved how little justice means when you’ve got power and money. They killed our best friend and his entire family, just damage control to them, but we lost a brother.
My fists curl tight, nails cutting into my palms. That memory is still too raw. These missions, this is how I stay sane.
“We need to move. He should be at the club by now,” Caleb calls out, already striding toward the SUV. It’s custom-built with blacked-out windows, a bulletproof shell and fake plates. The trunk is reinforced and soundproof, designed to keep someone inside for as long as we need them to be.
If there was one good thing about the inheritance our parents left behind, it was the chance to build something new. Something powerful. We sold everything—the estates, the cars, the businesses, every piece of their empire.
With it, we built our own: one estate to live and train in, with a tech room, armory, and indoor range.
We pile into the SUV. Beau drives as he always does, smooth and collected, while “Let the Bodies Hit the Floor” blasts through the speakers.
It’s tradition, his murder playlist, as he calls it: loud, aggressive, chaotic.
We all have our rituals: Beau needs noise, Caleb reads thrillers and plays with his lighter—of all things.
Me? I go over the plan in my head. Over and over.
Every route. Every outcome. Every plan A, B, and C.
We’ve been doing this for almost ten years now and have never been caught. No close calls—the fact that the bodies never turn up helps.
“There’s a line,” Beau mutters, slowing as we approach the club.
“No problem.” I pull out a cigar and light it as we park. I get out of the SUV, nodding toward the bouncer standing at the door.
“You know him?” Caleb asks, glancing between us.
“Helped his sister out once,” I say casually.
The bouncer sees me, gives a quick nod, and opens the door without a word.
Inside, the club throbs with the bass and the air is thick with smoke. Everyone smiles, dances, and drinks. Inhibitions are out the window, and that’s exactly what Henry expects.
Women offer shy smiles, and Caleb is already veering toward one with a grin.
“Keep it in your pants, man,” I grunt.
He smirks like a bastard.
“There,” Beau murmurs, chin lifting slightly.
My eyes land on him. Henry, he’s sitting at the bar, leaning close to a silver-haired woman, smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and that woman? She will be his next victim.
“She’s too hot for that fucker,” Caleb mutters as he joins us, sipping bourbon while he shoves a phone number into his pocket.
My gaze shifts to her, dressed in all black, hair brushing her shoulders. She has that sweet, innocent face that Henry usually goes for. If we weren’t here tonight, she’d end up in a ditch somewhere.
We couldn’t find enough evidence to pin him outright, but two women vanished after nights with him. I’d bet anything they’re buried somewhere no one will ever find.
“What’s the plan again?” Beau asks. His back is to Henry, pretending to watch a girl dance on the platform. Always subtle, even though she's not his type.
“We wait,” I say, eyes locked on the bastard’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. “He’ll leave with her. That’s when we move.”
I catch the bartender’s eye, signal for a drink, and nod toward Caleb.
We blend in as best we can, but honestly? I don’t give a fuck. After tonight, every bit of surveillance in this club will vanish. Same for the traffic cams, Beau’s a ghost in the system.
“And the girl?” Caleb asks, turning slightly to face me.
I sip the bourbon slowly, eyes never leaving the mirror. “We tell her she got lucky. She can scream her way out of the alley if she wants.”
Henry leans closer to her now. Casual touches, laughing, before turning to signal his friends that he’s making his exit.
My eyes shift to the woman just as her hand moves, quick, sprinkling a powder into his glass.
“Did she just—?” Beau freezes mid-sentence, staring.
“Were those drugs?” Caleb doesn’t blink, still watching through the mirror.
What the fuck? Henry’s usually the one slipping things into drinks. What is this? Some new kink he has?
They move. He struts out, and she follows, hips swaying, giggling like a fucking schoolgirl.
We head out through the main doors, but a group of drunk assholes are throwing punches in the street.
“Motherfuckers,” I mutter, trying to get around them.
Caleb—of course—laughs and throws a punch.
“The fuck, Caleb?” I snap, just as one of them swings at me.
He shrugs, grinning. “Warm-up, brother.” He jabs one guy in the gut; the poor bastard pukes immediately.
We waste too much time dealing with them, so we move fast down the alley, keeping to the dark side with our hoods up and sliding the masks and gloves on. We slip into the shadows behind a dumpster, silent, and there she is.
Silver-haired girl dragging an almost-unconscious Henry. She moves slow but steady, murmuring something as he struggles to walk. They’re heading toward a beat-up Ford parked near the edge of the alley, right in front of the docks.
She opens the passenger door, and he collapses into the seat, deadweight.
“Do we stop her?” Beau whispers, low and unsure.
I don’t answer. Truth is, I have no fucking clue what this is. Beau leans forward too much and the dumpster creaks under his weight and she stops, “Hello?” She turns around, and we kneel into the darkness.
We wait until I hear her door close. I move on instinct, dropping to my knees.
I crawl through the grime, the cold seeping through my jeans, every inch forward making my pulse hammer harder, the club still thumping behind me, but it’s her movement in front of me that has my full attention, making sure she doesn’t see or hear me.
I reach the cracked taillight and slide my phone into place, tracker active. I keep low, hardly breathing, waiting for her to drive off. My fingers tighten around the bumper in case I need to launch away.
The radio kicks on with some bubbly pop song, far too cheerful for whatever this is, and her voice slips into it.
She's singing along without missing a word, the sound light and carefree. It’s almost worse than silence.
She taps the wheel in time with the beat, and for a moment I’m not sure which is stranger, what she’s done, or how damn at ease she is with it.
Her car rolls away, and I don’t move until the red glow of her taillights disappears down the street. We run straight for the SUV. I slide behind the wheel, pull up the tracker, and follow from a safe distance.
“This is weird, right?” Caleb asks from the backseat, leaning between us. “Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this is really fucking weird.”
Beau chuckles, shaking his head. “Silver girl drugged Henry and took him.” He grins. “Wasn’t that kind of our plan?”
I grip the steering wheel, knuckles pale against the leather. My forearms flex with the strain, veins standing out. My jaw locked so hard the muscles twitch. I hate when plans fall apart, but I hate it more when someone outside of us gets involved.
My mind spins through every scenario. A kink? An old victim getting justice? Something else entirely?
“She’s heading to the woods,” Beau says, pointing at the map glowing on the screen. “The fuck is she doing out there? There’s nothing but old hunting cabins no one’s used in years.”
What the hell is going on?
“You think it’s a trap?” Caleb mutters.
My teeth grind as my jaw tightens. The muscle ticks in rhythm with my pulse.
“Maybe he knows—”
I shake my head. “No way. Beau wipes every trail. Henry’s never seen us, doesn’t know we exist.”
“She stopped,” Beau says quietly, tapping the blinking red dot.
We park off-road, far enough not to be noticed. The air is colder here, still and heavy, clinging to my skin. Every breath leaves a pale wisp that fades into the dark.
We move in silence, heads down, dressed in black from head to toe.
We are like shadows slipping through the trees, the darkness swallows us whole, and the crunch of branches underfoot becomes the only whisper of our presence.
My heartbeat feels too loud, thudding against my ribs, matching the rhythm of my steps.
“Eiden,” Beau whispers and points up ahead where a faint, flickering light glows between the trees. It pulses, disappearing when the wind shifts the branches, reappearing again seconds later.
We get closer, it’s an old hunter’s cabin, the type of place you come to hide something, or someone.
I catch the faint smell of old wood and cold metal, the musty rot of a place that’s been abandoned for years.
We circle it, guns in hand, trying not to make a noise. My adrenaline sharpens every detail, the scratch of fabric as Caleb shifts his stance, the sound of Beau’s exhale behind me. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, ready.