The Deceptions (The Scorned #1)

Chapter 1

“Why?” I croak, keeping my gaze forward instead of on him.

My uncle.

The reason I'm here.

Thick sheets of rain pour down as the dark clouds open above us.

Every inch of my clothing sticks to my flesh like a second skin and I shiver, staring down at the stones sticking out from the muddy earth.

The scent of nature surrounds me. Mud. Leaves.

Rain. A hint of lilacs blowing in the breeze mixed with the moisture.

My eyes squeeze shut. The frigid water serves as my baptism. A renewal from the naive girl I once was when I was seventeen. The girl who blindly followed her three boyfriends around like a puppy on a leash, lapping up everything they gave her.

Until she couldn't any longer.

Because she died a miserable death. Betrayed by the very men who held her heart in their palms.

Her blood stained their fingers.

Now, she's the girl buried six feet deep beneath my soaked boots, stuck in the ground with only a grave marker, etched with her name, to remember her by.

Olivia Viotto.

A familiar stranger. A girl I once knew and used to be.

But not anymore.

I'm not that Olivia anymore. I’m not the girl with stars in her eyes and dreams at the tips of her fingers. I’m twenty-two years old now. An adult. Someone who lives in the real world where evil is around every corner and everyone is out to get you.

Even your best friends.

I’ll never be that hopeless Olivia Viotto again. She depended on too many people to help her get through the day.

Not anymore.

I'm the new and improved me. Agent Seven with Veritas. Fighting the good fight against the evil forces, like the men from my past.

My friends. My father. Mafia and gang leaders.

A flash of lightning streaks across the raging sky, illuminating the vast graveyard and matching the torrid emotions swirling inside me. A thunderous boom immediately follows, rumbling the ground beneath my feet.

My fingers curl at my sides.

Breathe, Liv. You have to fucking breathe through your nose and out through your mouth. Don’t think about it. Don’t imagine their faces on the last day you stood hidden in the woods watching them grieve as the old me was lowered into the ground.

It was all a lie. Everything we had together. The love. Laughter. Emotions.

How could they lie to me so well?

And I was too dumb to see anything before it all came crashing down.

I heave a breath, panic clawing deep in my chest, anxious to leave and make me spiral into the abyss, like it's done before. I can't go back down that road again. It brings nothing but unanswered questions and heartache.

Why are we here? In my former hometown? Why did he make me come back?

I never wanted to step foot in this town again. Ever. I've made something of myself. Something big and meaningful.

I've created the new me.

I ground myself, keeping my mind in the present. Instead of the vivid past attempting to pull me back. I’m fighting against the memories attacking me from all sides.

I swallow my emotions, taking stock of my surroundings. Greenwood Cemetery. One of the oldest cemeteries in California. Rumored to be haunted by pirates and other residents of the past.

At least, that's the rumor.

Headstones line the slightly flat and hilly grounds for miles. A large black iron fence encompasses the area, keeping the dead inside and the living on the edges.

The only buildings around this area belong to Greenwood University, sitting a hundred feet from the east side of the property.

My dream college as a kid. Our dream college. It was always a part of the plan we came up with. Go to college. Get our education as we continued to work for Franco.

Then we can disappear and start over somewhere far away from here.

I accomplished that. But did they? Have they successfully left Franco behind yet?

I'm drawn out of my thoughts when movement on the edge of the cemetery catches my eye. Someone is slinking through the shadows with hunched shoulders and their head hanging low.

What are they doing out here?

I narrow my eyes, but through the darkness and rain, I can't make out their facial features. I home in on their heavy footsteps sloshing in the mud, getting closer and closer to us.

I put my hand on my hip, reaching for the weapon that's always at my side. My fingers hover, ready to grab and strike if they're a threat against us.

The figure abruptly stops fifty yards from our location, freezing completely. With nothing more than a loud huff of breath, they turn on their heels and hightail it out of sight.

They saw us.

“Someone is here,” I mumble to my uncle, who silently stands beside me. No doubt watching the retreating back of the stranger.

“He’ll leave,” he mumbles unconcerned. “He always does.”

My brows furrow when I turn to look at him, but he shakes his head—not elaborating. So, I don't ask like I've been trained to do.

By him. By my father. Both Viotto men, both incredibly different, but the same.

My entire life has been a quiet existence. My father, a mafia leader, raised me to keep my mouth shut. Don’t ask stupid questions or you’ll find out the answers through fists and menacing words.

All very educational, if you ask me. I mean, I learned to keep my lips tight and my eyes down around my father and his abusive ways. So did my mother and my sister. We were all under his thumb and oppressive ways.

But I never thought it would follow me into adulthood, to my job.

The moment I stepped foot into the Veritas bunker where I trained, I found out the same rules applied.

It’s do as I ask and never question my authority.

Half of me understands my Uncle Jonathan’s demands.

But the other half–my rebelling half–wants to beg for answers.

Especially right now, as I watch the shadow retreat from us, getting further and further away until they’re nothing more than a blip in the darkness, becoming one with it.

Who is this mysterious person who seems to make a consistent appearance here? And how does my uncle know about him? Has he been staking out my grave for…whatever reason?

"Why are we here?" I softly ask, letting my words hang on the thick raindrops continuing to pelt us.

My Uncle Jonathan shuffles beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder. He squeezes, bringing my gaze to his hardened eyes. Lightning flashes above our heads again, my muscles tensing in response.

The brief flash highlights the sparkle in Jonathan's eyes.

He knows something I don't. Seems fitting, though.

He's the head of Veritas—a secret government agency.

And me? Well, I'm the agent beneath him, doing his bidding.

Happily, though. This job gives me a purpose after my life went up in smoke five years ago.

Don't think about them. Don't do it.

“I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't think you'd be up for the challenge, Agent Seven.” His voice dips low, and he opts to use my Veritas number instead of my name.

He means business now. There's no questioning his motives or talking back. I am his agent. Not his niece.

My back straightens immediately, wiping away my emotions. As Agent Seven, I am unstoppable.

Trained to take down mafia leaders, gang heads, and CEOs on the bad side of the law. Corruption. Deaths. Cults. You name it. Our organization does it. I do it. I'm one of the best agents in our division. And I love every second of it.

“Yes, Agent Zero.” As I acknowledge him, lightning flashes again, raising the hairs on my arms as it quickly strikes a tree in the woods surrounding the area.

I blow out a breath as the thunder rumbles deep and low, vibrating my fucking bones. Everything inside me begs me to run for cover and hide in the darkened SUV parked beyond the towering trees as unwanted memories trickle through my mind and flash before my eyes.

But I stand firm. Just like I did five minutes ago.

Since I was five, thunderstorms have been the bane of my existence, and standing here in the midst of it isn't helping the irrational fear unfurling inside me. It’s happening all over again.

The night I spent with rain pouring over my head as tears mixed with the pelting water and I had nowhere to go.

No home to seek shelter in. Two parents who didn’t give a shit if I was out in the cold, begging for mercy.

Because my own father kicked me out of our home the moment the storm started to teach me an important lesson. Whatever that was.

I squeeze my eyes shut, ignoring the wind whispering through the trees, carrying faraway voices from my memories. If only I could forget.

“Count the time between the lightning flash and the thunder, Trouble,” Hux grins, peeking out the window of our elaborate tree house nestled deep in the woods, hiding us from the raging storm that came out of nowhere.

“I'm still scared,” I whisper, scooting closer to him and grabbing his hand. “Hux, what if….” The tree falls. Or a tornado comes through. Or the wind makes it impossible for me to make it home before my dad knows I'm gone.

If he knows I've snuck out, he'll brutalize me. Or worse, throw me in the dark basement with no food or water and force me to stay there until he sees fit.

But this is worth it. The time lying in the treehouse with Hux, safely tucked in beside him. He’s my protector.

I trail off when his moss green eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Livy, you're ten. You can't be afraid of storms forever. Besides, you have to learn how to ride them out.” His grin does little to soothe my anxiety.

His low chuckle fills the space before he grabs and pulls me into him.

The faint scent of Christmas spices fills my nose, and my body relaxes.

“No matter the storm, I'll always be your fighter.”

I wish I hadn't believed him so hard throughout my childhood and teenage years. It would have saved me this misery piercing my heart and cracking it more at the thought of him and his sparkly green eyes.

Huxley. My former best friend and my ultimate betrayer.