W A R N I N G: Though this can technically be read as a standalone novel, it contains major spoilers for my story 'Queen of Thieves'. I do not suggest reading this novel before the first.

I was six years old when I first killed a man. His name didn't matter. What he did to deserve it didn't matter either. I wasn't to question my orders.

It took me approximately three minutes and forty-seven seconds until I worked up the nerve to fling my dagger. The blade had flown into his chest and he had dropped dead in the middle of his speech. It was easy to slip away from the chaos - nobody expected a little boy to assassinate a governor.

There had been no tears, but plenty of remorse. But with every kill, that faded away too. I was groomed into a perfect killer, an assassin that blended in with the rest of society's elite.

Once, roaming the city's streets had been easy. I had been a killer that went undetected until Liana Mason decided to frame me for murder - one I didn't even commit. The irony didn't escape me. Now I was stuck in the shadows, careful to keep out of sight as I skirted around the streets with a hood over my head and hands in my pockets.

Many bodies had been dropping in the Sect, something that had begun to alarm the others. Who could be killing trained killers? Liana had been the first that had come to all their minds, but I'd dismissed those suggestions. We'd made a deal and she would die before dishonoring it. Surely, it was those that disproved of my rule - nobody else had a reason. It was those that I trusted who were among the dead. Assassins being assassinated by assassins.

Again, the irony did not escape me.

Someone was killing my men, but I didn't know who. Not exactly. Just why.

I slipped into an old warehouse on Seventh Street and found my way up the rickety stairs to the top floor where a paunchy man stood, waiting for me. I hadn't bothered bringing the money he so confidently had demanded in exchange for information. The man would tell me what I wanted - I'd just have to threaten him and he'd squeal.

"Ryan Locke, I presume," I said, reaching the top of the stairs.

His lumpy nose twitched. "Yeah."

"You said you had information of value."

"I want my money."

"Talk first."

"Money first."

"You can't possibly be stupid enough to waste my time. I'm not a nice person. I'm even worse when I'm hungry, and I haven't eaten a damned thing all day." I pulled a dagger from my jacket and walked toward him, and he stumbled away until his back hit the moldy wooden railings around us. "I know this woman who used to go around shooting arrows. You called her Astraea. Remember? She was one of the good guys, but she could be ruthless. She's the one who taught me to always go for an artery when I want to kill someone."

Sweat beaded his greasy forehead, and a look of fear flashed across his face, as if he were just now realizing what a terrible idea this had been. I had trouble imagining what made this foolish little man think than trying to pry money from an assassin was a wise idea. The general population of this city never ceased to amaze me.

"I-If you kill me, you won't find out what I know."

"I will. Because there are dozens of pathetic street urchins like you running around. I just have to find the right one. You aren't special, Ryan Locke. You are expendable." I was standing before him, jeweled dagger pressed to his throat. "But, it'll take me time to track down someone else who has information. So, you can help a friend out and talk, or I can slit your throat, be annoyed, and be on my merry way."

"I-I only have a name," he said quickly, squeaking as I knew he would. "Gregory Yates."

My stomach sank, my anger flared. "What about him?"

"He works with you."

"I'm aware. What. About. Him?"

"They say he used to be a mole for Darren Polk."

"I see."

"Can I-I go now?"

The dagger in my hand punctured his carotid and I pushed him over the railing, turning away without bothering to look. As I wiped the blood off my blade, I went down the steps, stomach growling. "I want dessert."

♬

When I came to a set of large, iron gates, I nodded at the brawny men, Baxter and Turner, who stood on either side. One punched in a code that opened the gates, and I went straight for the door. It opened before I touched the knob. The woman cowering behind the door was mousy, with short blonde hair and a round face with perfectly applied make-up. The kind that required a steady hand that she didn't have. Maybe she was going outside. Or had a friend over earlier. She hadn't done either in years.

My lips curved into a genuine smile. "Hi, Mom."

Her stubby hands flew to her mouth as she gasped, taking in the sight of me before pulling me inside into the warmth of her home. "Oh! Oh, I've missed you!"

"I missed you too."

"Then you would come see me more often."

"Ah, you know that if I had a choice, I would."

She pulled back and reached up to pinch my cheeks. "I'm making cookies tonight!"

"You are? What happened to-"

"That terrible cook? I fired him. Man tried putting me on a diet. The nerve!"

"Because you're a diabetic, mother." I concealed my exasperation. "You can't be having so much sugar. Or any at all, actually."

She made a face. "The only good sugar-free cookies I had were the ones the Mason girl bought me." Combing her fingers through her cropped hair, she added, "She's very pretty. I can see why you like her."

"I don't anymore mother."

"Good. She's engaged to someone. Maybe you should get engaged too!"

There was a ding from the other end of the villa.

"I think your cookies are ready."

"Come on then."

She padded through the halls, tiny heels clicking, and I was glad to see the old photos of my father that once covered the walls were finally gone. I'd been trying to get rid of those for years.

Pulling open the oven, my mother slipped on a pair of mitts and took out a tray of gooey chocolate chip cookies. "Why does your shirt have blood on it?"

I looked down at my shirt, at the specks that stained it. Start wearing red when you might kill someone, dumbass. Zipping up my jacket so she wouldn't have to look at it again, I shrugged, picking up a warm cookie. "Nothing too bad."

"If the Sect Inferni are too much trouble, you can leave." There was a terrible hopefulness in her voice. "Come back here. Home."

"Everything is okay."

"Then why do you have men protecting me?"

"Because I want to make sure my wonderful mother is safe. Is that so bad?" I shoved the cookie into my mouth before she could ask any more questions and gave her a thumbs up. My phone went off in my pocket and I fished it out, wiping away the blood that had seeped through my jeans and onto it, glancing carelessly at the message.

Trouble at the gates.

"Stay here. I need to talk to Baxter about something." Before she had the chance to protest, I snatched another cookie from the tray and hurried out, striding through the rain to the gates. The cookie nearly dropped from my hand when I saw a girl in flower dress, nudging one of the unconscious guards with her heel.

Feeling my gaze, her green eyes flicked up to meet mine. "They weren't very nice," she told me, as if that were at the height of importance. "It's not polite to pull a knife out on a lady."

"Their job is not to let anybody threatening near my mother," I said. "You're threatening."

"I suggest you get better guards," Liana Mason advised. "And a new phone. Eric tracked you down in a couple minutes after I asked him to."

I let my soggy cookie and the phone drop, crushing the latter under my shoe. "Does your fiancé know you're here?"

She pointed at a sleek red car across the street. "He's in the car. I'm here about Elaine. She was arrested for breaking into a witness' house and trying to kill him."

The witness. Elaine should've killed him hours ago and been back at headquarters with a report ages ago. The man was part of a case that could set the police on the tail of some of my best men. Until the whole thing was handled, I'd stationed them in Rome, but I needed them back to help take care of the killings, so I'd sent Elaine to dispose of the man.

"So?" I asked, momentarily forgetting about her distaste for my world.

"He's my witness and an innocent man. If she killed him it would have broken our truce. Besides, don't you care that she's in interrogation?"

Her witness. Of course, the man would be under her protection. If I believed in luck, I'd say that mine had long since taken a turn for the worst. I was the king of a crumbling empire, and one of the few solutions I had to repair the damage was being blocked off by a lawyer.

"Of course I care, Lia."

"Call a cab and wait outside the station. I'll get her out."

"But?"

She stepped forward, her eyes gleaming. "Leave my witness alone."

I smiled at her through the gate with false sincerity, my patience with the girl I once loved running thin. My kingdom would not fall because of some truce I made with a former thief. "As you wish, Lia."

A u t h o r ' s  N o t e

This story is currently on hold! I'm rewriting QoT and the changes there affect the plot and characters here. I'll resume posting once I've finished the rewrite. 💙