/1/123305/coverbig.jpg?v=300df1647d48b7610964c9e697a574f4)
Mcca
de felt cold a
, plush hallway. I pressed myself deeper into the shadows of the al
neckline, the pinned curls, the delicate earrings-because they mirrored the way John Guzman's late wife used to dress. Guzman had never recovered from her d
I was to kill him and make it look as though the Northern Packs were responsible. Guzman's death would remove th
d that once his family rose to power, the missions would end. We would finally marry, build a home together,
nearly invisible comms device, flat and controll
left a familiar, sour taste in my mouth. I swallowed it down and forced myself to picture what Hassan had promised me: a small house, a
nly thing that made th
. Blood welled, warm and slick. It was a habit, one I'd learned as a Rogue to keep m
led sounds of his voice drifted out. He was on the phone, his wor
ass against a bottle. He was at the bar
my body coiled,
it h
f had hardened around me. The pressure bore down without warning, suffocating a
rrified whimper and retreated into the deepest corner of my mind. The fear
tself from the far
was more terrifying than any sound. He wore a perfectly ta
s the color of a winter storm.
all, the next he was at the door. He didn't bother with the hand
g from his hand and shattering on the mar
." he stammered, his vo
tol appeared in his hand, a suppressor on its barr
nter of Guzman's forehead. He collaps
ased in an instant by a p
plans and promises vanished, replaced
nd, but it
ove where I stood. The moment his eyes found mine, the weig
he had noticed, only that something in his expression changed. The cold indifference vanished. A fie
in my soul, but it wa
in
brand on my spirit. My legs turned to l
is eyes off me. With every step, the pressure s
hand, a pathetic act of defiance. It tremble
Answer me!" Hassan's frant
ers closed around the tiny receiver hidden behind my ear, and a
peared behind him. "Clean this up," he ordered,
t out, closing around my throat. He lifted me ef
e single word a verdi

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