Guide Me Harder (Reject Squad #1)

Chapter One

Yun

This is my last chance.

The warning rang in my head on repeat, over and over again, reminding me that I couldn’t fuck this up. No matter how often I’d screwed it up in the past—and I had, plenty of times—I couldn’t let that happen now.

I’d worn a fitted suit, something the Guild had gotten me.

Normally, the expensive fabrics and marvelous craftsmanship would have landed far outside my price range, but the Guild offered some perks to members.

They helped out with work expenses, and since I’d never used those services, they’d approved the new outfit with ease.

The woman who worked at the upscale clothing store had sworn up and down that I looked wonderful, and, to be honest, I’d hardly recognized the girl I’d seen in those large mirrors in the changing room. She’d appeared put together, as though she had everything sorted out in her life.

Well, minus the bags under her eyes, the ones that came from chronic, crippling insomnia.

Still, whether I looked the part didn’t change how I felt—entirely unprepared. I doubted anything short of a complete rewrite of my entire life would change that.

Someone walked by on the street, peering toward me with an untrusting side-eye.

So, maybe standing in front of an office building for what had to have been ten minutes was suspicious. I could almost picture the Guild giving me an earful should I get the cops called on me for loitering.

Just go for it.

My knuckles ached from the hard, dark wood of the door after I knocked. The nameplate hanging at eye level read “Reject Squad.”

The name had me nearly shaking my head. That wasn’t their actual name, of course. Officially, on all the documents, I’d been paired with Squad S412. Reject Squad was what others called them in jest, while people sneered and spread whatever rumors were going around at the time.

Just how many of those rumors were true?

It was impossible to tell because they never addressed any of them. Instead, they reveled in the lies, in the rumors, in the way people talked shit about them.

And I’m supposed to join this clusterfuck?

Yeah, I was, because this was it for me.

The door opened and a man with long, dirty-blond hair looked out, so tall that he at first looked not at me but over my head and past me. He lowered his gaze to mine.

Would he yell at me?

Espers weren’t known for having great temperaments.

Or perhaps he’d order me in, tell me to start guiding right this moment.

My stomach rolled at that thought, at the fear that swarmed through me like a million crawling bugs.

“Where are the cookies?”

His words caught me so off guard that my brain struggled to come up with anything in response.

He turned his head slightly and called past him, into the darkness of the building which I couldn’t see into, “I don’t see any cookies.

” He faced me again, his brows furrowed as though this cookie debacle were the great, lingering question of our generation.

“Did you hide them or something? Did you forget them? One time I got sent to the store for mac and cheese and I ended up spending all the money Carter gave me at this taco truck outside, so I came back without anything. It’s fine, here.

” He reached into his jeans pocket, then shoved a fistful of money at my chest until I took it more from surprise than anything else.

“That’s enough. No tacos this time, though. ” He closed the door in my face.

Which left me standing there with what—when I looked down—turned out to be at least eight hundred dollars in fifties and twenties and no idea what the fuck had just happened.

Part of me wondered if I should just leave. Was any job worth this? These guys were insane, right? That was the only explanation.

Except, the words of the Guild president again whispered through my mind.

My last chance.

If I failed here, if I didn’t make this work, I had no idea where I’d land.

I just knew it wouldn’t be good.

Which meant no matter how crazy this seemed, I needed to make it work.

Should I go get cookies? Maybe this was a test, like they wanted to ensure I had what it took to work with them?

I felt like walking in blind to an exam that I hadn’t known about or taught.

Just as I accepted the idea that I’d need to turn around and go to the store, the door opened again.

I expected that strange man to return, asking about baked goods, which was why it surprised me to find someone else there.

He had dark hair, a bit messy and long enough to fall to his cheekbones, with waves through it, though I wondered if they’d stay if he brushed it properly.

He wore a button-up shirt, light blue, and had the sleeves rolled up and over his forearms.

“This isn’t the cookie girl,” he shouted into the building, again making me wonder if they’d all lost their minds.

Perhaps they’d gone too long without a guide and were well and truly corrupt—just in a far less murdery way than most of them went.

When he turned back toward me, he had an almost charming smile painted across his lips, though something about it screamed in my head not to trust it—or him. “Sorry, come in. My name is Carter.”

I followed him, still clutching the cash against my chest, and got my first look at the interior.

The outside had been rather nondescript, just another small business or office building, surrounded by similar doors that housed lawyers and real estate agents and new-age doctors who claimed to cure rich people with crystals but usually only cured them of their money.

No one would have expected to find this just past one of those doors.

The space was large, with stairs near one side that wound up to a second floor.

This ground floor was open, though, with a kitchenette on one side and a large couch facing a huge flat screen mounted on the wall across from it.

A few desks sat in the space, awkwardly placed as though they weren’t sure what to do with the room.

Some of the desks had papers on them, purposeful stacks, as though the owner worked through them at their own pace, while others appeared to never have been touched at all.

And the thing that would have completely thrown any person?

A full wall with a glass front and weapons locked inside.

Guns, knives, something that I felt pretty sure was a missile launcher.

While the rest of the space was an absolute mess, that area remained perfectly organized, along with a desk just before it that had a load of paperwork across it.

Yeah, this was not the office of a civilian.

“If she isn’t here with cookies, who is she?” the man who had answered the door asked from his spot on the couch, his arm thrown over the back as he watched me.

“This is the guide that the Guild sent.”

Another head popped up from the couch as though summoned by that.

“Guide?” This man looked nothing like the other two, with short hair gelled back like some old-timey gangster and tattoos that painted him like a new generation gangster.

He had a neck tattoo of bird wings wrapped around his throat and an eye at the center.

He wore a black shirt with a V-neck and long sleeves, meaning I couldn’t see any more of him, but I had a feeling that his tattoos went a lot further than that.

He stared at me before flashing a smile so lewd I nearly blushed. I didn’t need to read thoughts to have a pretty good idea of what exactly was on his mind.

“Don’t get excited,” Carter warned as he took a seat at the desk with the weapons behind it. “You know the Guild wouldn’t just send us any old guide.”

“What’s wrong with her, then?” the tattooed man asked as though I weren’t there.

“She doesn’t bring cookies, that’s what’s wrong,” the long-haired man answered, his voice sullen. Was he actually pouting over such a thing?

“If you would shut up, I might be able to figure it out.” Carter shook his head, then gestured at the seat across the desk from him.

“Ignore them—they’re like children. They think any attention is good attention.

The one who answered the door is Kenyon, and the delinquent-looking asshole beside him is Ingram. ”

I swallowed hard, the names making this all feel more real as I took the seat he’d offered and tucked the money into my pocket, unsure what else to do with it.

We sat in silence for a long moment, awkwardness creeping in.

“That means you’re supposed to say your name,” Kenyon whispered from the couch, loud enough that everyone could hear it, as though I hadn’t worked out basic social norms.

I fought back the desire to remind him that I did just fine, that it was they who had caused this weirdness. Who could keep their wits about them when surrounded by lunatic espers?

“My name is Yun Moore,” I offered, keeping my hands in my lap.

It was a trick I’d learned years before, to never put my hand out for a handshake. Other guides might be fine with casual touching, but I sure as fuck wasn’t. “The Guild sent me here.”

Carter waved that off, as though unimportant.

“Yeah, yeah, the Guilds like to talk and work things out, our opinions be damned. Still, this isn’t a squad people are usually champing at the bit to join up with.

Ingram might have the tact of a seven-year-old, but he isn’t wrong. Why’d you pull the short straw?”

His words lashed out, the sting not dulled despite the way he said them—lighthearted, as though we were having any casual discussion.

I pulled my shoulders back, refusing to be looked down on. “That isn’t any of your business. You need a guide, and the Guild thought I would be compatible. I can assure you I’m capable of it.”

“What rank are you?”

“S.”