Chapter One
Kael
My phone lit up on the passenger seat while I was halfway back from the port.
The heavy Florida humidity had turned into a thick, suffocating fog, the kind that swallowed the city lights whole.
I reached over, my fingers tracing the cracked glass before flicking the screen open.
The security alert notifications from the cameras in the warehouse I’d just left were pulsing across the screen.
There were four alerts. One of them caught movement.
I watched three figures creeping through the side loading door like they thought they were slick. I tapped the screen, zooming in.
My chest tightened, a cold spike of adrenaline cutting through my system.
Bria.
She was hanging back near the stacked crates, eyes wide, breathing fast. Even through the low-resolution feed, I could see it on her face.
She didn’t want to be there, but she was there anyway.
Two skinny junkies with cheap guns were already inside the main aisle, heading straight for the weapon crates.
She brought them here.
I hit a U-turn.
I let out a slow breath. That was on me. I had taken her there once when I needed to meet Malachai to deal with something.
I sighed.
I’d let her go too many times. Got too lenient. Let her shower at my house, fed her, cleaned her up, gave her space to breathe. And the little rabbit used that trust to bring thieves to my door.
What was I going to do with her?
It took me fifteen minutes to get back to the warehouse.
I killed the headlights and turned off the main road, tires crunching over gravel as I rolled up to the back entrance.
I pulled up, drawing my gun from the holster and screwing in the silencer.
I didn’t need noise tonight. The city sounds would swallow the rest, but I didn’t need any unwanted attention.
I slipped through the rear door.
Inside, the first junkie didn’t even get a chance to scream.
He was hunched over, a crowbar jammed into the seam of a cedar box.
I put two rounds through the back of his skull before he finished prying open the first crate.
His body dropped like wet meat, blood spraying across the plastic-wrapped rifles.
The metallic tang of zinc and hot copper immediately flooded the aisle.
The second one spun around, eyes bugging, and tried to raise his cheap Glock. He was too slow.
I caught his wrist, twisted until the bone snapped like dry wood, his muffled shriek dying in his throat.
Before he could even register the agony, I drove my knife up under his ribs.
I twisted it slowly, feeling the wet heat of his insides, listening to the wet gurgling sound he made as his lungs filled.
“Shhh,” I whispered, almost kindly. “It’s quicker if you stop fighting.”
He pissed himself before he died.
I wiped the blade on his shirt and looked straight toward the corner where Bria was hiding behind a stack of pallets.
I could smell her fear.
That sweet, familiar panic. It was a scent I knew better than my own.
“Come out, Bunny.”
My voice echoed softly through the warehouse, bouncing off the corrugated steel walls.
No answer.
Just her shallow breathing.
I started walking, passing the bodies and stepping over pooling blood.
“I know you’re there, baby. I saw you on the camera. Saw you bring these stupid motherfuckers into my warehouse. Why, Bria?”
I heard her soft whimper.
Then footsteps.
She bolted.
She was fast, I’d give her that. Sprinting toward the side exit, sneakers slapping hard against the concrete floor.
But I was faster.
I caught her just before she reached the door, one arm snaking around her waist, the other clamping over her mouth. She screamed into my palm, thrashing like a wild thing, nails digging into my forearm and drawing thin lines of heat across my skin.
I spun her around and pressed her back against the cold metal wall, pinning her there with my body.
She was completely trapped beneath my weight.
Blood from my hands smeared across her cheek as I cupped her face gently—so gently—with my stained fingers. I stroked her skin with my thumb, leaving a red streak down her jaw.
Her wide hazel eyes were full of terror.
“I let you go so many times, Bria,” I murmured, voice low and calm. “Took you home. Let you shower. Fed you. Cleaned you up when you were shaking and sick. And this is what you do?” I tilted my head slightly. “You really don’t believe I’ll kill you, do you?”
She tried to shake her head, tears spilling over and washing clean tracks through the grime and blood on her face.
I leaned in closer, my forehead resting against hers, forcing her to breathe in the scent of me. My bloody hand kept stroking her cheek.
“I see I’ve spoiled you too much, Little Rabbit.”
She was trembling so hard I could feel it in my bones. Her heart hammered against my chest like it wanted to escape, a trapped bird throwing itself against its cage.
I slid my free hand into my pocket and pulled out the small cloth soaked in the sedative I kept in my car for nights like this.
I had always known, deep down, that it would come to this.
“Shhh. Breathe for me, baby.”
I pressed the cloth gently over her nose and mouth.
Her eyes widened in panic.
She bucked and clawed at my wrist, her small fingers slowly losing their strength against my grip, but I just held her closer, rocking her slightly like I used to during the worst of her withdrawals.
“That’s it,” I whispered against her temple. “Close your eyes. I’ve got you.”
Her struggles slowed.
Her lashes fluttered.
Then her body went limp in my arms.
I caught her before she could fall, lifting her easily against my chest, her weight nothing to me. Her head lolled onto my shoulder as I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
“I’m going to help you again, Little Bunny,” I told her unconscious form as I carried her toward my truck. “But this time, it won’t be for free.”
I opened the passenger door carefully.
“You’ll belong to me.”