Savage (The Triarchy Collection #2)

Prologue

Helena

I’d always wondered how I would die.

Considering my upbringing, I assumed that it wasn’t going to be in a cozy rest home after a wild night of crochet and crosswords.

However.

If you had told me that it would be kneeling at the feet of the most devastating woman I had ever laid eyes on, the cold muzzle of her gun resting against my temple while the only words repeating in my drug-addled mind were Step on me.

You know what?

I would have called bullshit.

For a start, I loathe drugs.

Secondly, I was still covered in the blood of the creep I had just murdered, and yet I was more interested in the fact that I swear I could see two short nails in the perfect manicure of the woman who had just busted me.

“Who are you?”

The question caught me off guard, and I squinted up at her, cocking a brow.

“A little louder, gorgeous? My ears are still ringing from that asshole screaming for his mommy.” I winced. “Friend of yours?”

“Cocky,” she murmured, pressing the muzzle a little harder. “And no.”

“Well, I did you a favor then,” I said with a wink. Though I think I may have just slowly blinked at her with both eyes. And I was almost definitely slurring.

“Who sent you?” she asked coolly.

“Sent me?” I frowned at her. “What?”

She inclined her head at me with an impatient sigh.

“No one sent me,” I said slowly, then pointed behind her. “That pees of shit.” I squinted. “Nope. Pees of—” I was momentarily distracted as I struggled to focus on her face again. “Has anyone told you that you have real priddy eyes?”

“Are you drunk? Why are you here?”

I pointed again at the lifeless lump of a man sprawled across the floor in a pool of his own blood, mightily offended. “I just wanted the documens—docume—” I grunted in irritation, my head getting cloudier by the second. “Papers. To—for the citizenship.”

“French? What is that accent?”

I grimaced.

“French. Italian. British. Take your pick.”

“I see.” She stooped, and her perfume enveloped me as a warm hand gripped my chin. She tipped my face toward the light, then tsked under her breath. “Aren’t you quite the conundrum. High as a kite with the skills of a merc. Ex forces then? Where did you serve?”

I grinned at her.

“Not that honorable. An I jus’ didn’ keep a weather eye on my drink. Fucker paid for it though. Can you just—” I turned my head, scratching the bridge of my nose against the cool muzzle of her gun and sighed as it relieved the nagging itch from one of my ringlets tickling it. “Thanks, gorgeous.”

Her grip on me tightened. “I will ask you one last time. Who are you, and who sent you?”

“Helena,” I said, closing my eyes and leaning my forehead against the muzzle again. “To both. Look, I’m startin’ to feel pretty grim here. Can you jus’”—I waved a hand toward my head—“get it on with it.” I cracked one eye, frowning again. “Get it on?” Get on it?”

The coolness of the metal disappeared, and I rocked forward as I nearly overbalanced, and my head started to spin alarmingly.

“Why are you buying counterfeit papers? Are you in trouble, or just undocumented?”

“That’s far too many words right now,” I muttered, leaning forward to rest my palms on the floor that I swear was rolling. I slowly sank to the cool concrete, holding on to it for dear life before muttering, “I jus’ wanted to disappear.”

A firm grip under my arm hauled me to my feet as she typed something into her phone with her free hand, the screen illuminating her face.

“Well, Helena,” she murmured, hitting send and returning her grey glare back to me. “Once you sleep off whatever is in your system, and I clean up this god damned mess you just made, we should discuss that.”

I attempted to argue but was rapidly losing what faculties I had remaining, and honestly, sleep sounded like perfection. Right here. Back on the floor, preferably.

“Walk.”

Her words just pierced the clouds rolling in, and I obeyed, lifting limbs that felt like lead weights and letting her lead me as she quietly relayed orders to someone on her phone.

Something about a cleanup crew and body disposal.

I should probably not be letting murder mommy take me to an undisclosed location, but hey, I’ve done deeply questionable things for beautiful women before, so why stop now?