Prologue
Sebastian
The sun momentarily blinds me as I step outside my office building. I’ve just finished presenting the blueprint for the next cyber defense protocol to my brother, Matthias, who runs Syndicate Enterprise, the private defense company my family owns.
I have a few minutes before I need to go to Dom’s compound to show him how the system works for the Syndicate, the underground criminal organization my family also runs.
Syndicate Enterprise is our cover for the Syndicate. Dom, my oldest brother, works alongside Roman, another brother of mine, in operating it. Meanwhile, I work on both sides of the operations.
As I stroll to my motorcycle in the parking lot, a dark flash of brown catches my eye. A brunette stands in the lot staring at a wall. Her thick bangs almost completely cover the sweet, silky face of the woman. A face adorned with a bright smile.
I stop to admire her beauty before coming to my senses and grabbing my helmet. It’s creepy to stare at women, I know this,and yet, I can’t tear my eyes from her. At least I’m not kidnapping her like my psycho brother, though I understand his actions a little more in this moment.
The angel cocks her head towards the brick building attached to the parking lot and leaps against it. Dropping my helmet, I ready myself to help her. She must have fallen and could need me. But then she jumps, inching her hand up the wall, until she grabs something and cups it in her hands.
She whispers into her palms, and I ache to hear what she’s saying. She pets whatever she’s holding, then drops a hand to empty her pocket into her purse. With that move, she inadvertently shows me what she’s found.
The blue tail that flicks against her palm disturbs me. As does the black and white striped body of the lizard. Choking down the lump in my stomach, I continue watching. Because despite my rational fear of reptiles, there’s something completely captivating about this woman.
When she finishes emptying her breast pocket, she slides the lizard inside. It peeks its head out, and she rubs it gently while talking to him. This wild woman walks past me, close enough that I can hear her.
“… wildness, little Fern. You’re going to love my home. There’ll be many more…”
The husky notes of her voice have me staggering back against my bike. When it lets out a groan, I launch myself to catch and steady it. Horrified by my clumsiness, I shyly turn to face her. But I can’t find her.
With pounding in my ears, I hurriedly search the lot for her. When I catch her entering an ancient car, I hop on my bike and kickstart it. When she pulls out of her spot and turns out of the lot, I do the same. And when she gets on the interstate in the opposite direction of Dom’s compound, I follow her.
I’m practiced enough at tailing someone that she doesn’t notice me. Or maybe it’s that she’s too oblivious to see the bike pulling into her suburban neighborhood, Shady Meadows, behind her. Or even it’s that she’s so innocent she’d never suspect the bike parked on the street across from her house of following her. Luckily there’s a park across from her that helps me blend in.
Either way, as she gets out of the car, still talking to that disgusting creature, she doesn’t even glance in my direction. I park my bike and sit at the pavilion facing her house. By the time she’s settled in her den, I’ve downloaded the floor plan to her house.
Every move of hers enthralls me. And every single one of her actions is on display for me through her windows. Blinds that should be closed to prevent this sort of surveillance remain open and inviting. It’s like she’s calling to me, asking me to watch over her.
Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m simply watching over her. Protecting her. I ignore the voice in my head telling me she’s not in danger. I don’t care.
When the sun goes down, I creep closer to her house. If any neighbors look out their windows, they’ll see a six-foot-two, dark-haired man in glasses crouched behind her car staring intently into her house.
When she microwaves a frozen lasagna for dinner, I shake my head in disappointment. This angel deserves better than freezer-burned, prepackaged dinners. I could give her more. I should give her more. It’s what I’m meant to do. It’s why I’m here.
And when she finally goes to the back of the house, I know it’s bedtime. Looking at the floor plan of the two-bedroomhome, the only rooms back there are the primary bedroom and adjoining bathroom.
The faint glow of light through the house eventually goes out, but to my surprise, there’s still light seeping through the den window. She must have left a lamp on or candle lit.
An hour passes.
What if it’s a candle?
Another hour.
It could start a fire.
A third hour.
I can’t let her house burn down.
Making the executive decision that this is for her safety, I slowly creep to her living room window. I try the latch, and to my convenience anddistress, my sweet, trusting angel didn’t lock it. She should take more precautions about her safety.
Holding my breath, praying no alarm goes off, I slowly slide the window open. I freeze for a moment, preparing to get caught, only for the air to remain still. When I open the window fully, I slide inside and close it behind me, ensuring I lock it. I can’t risk anyone unseemly getting inside.
