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Chapter 1
Erin
I pulled up to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Tulsa, Oklahoma, and I thought, this is as good as anywhere to die.
James was quiet. My top lieutenant hated this plan. He’d rather I stayed behind and let him handle the negotiations.
I’d rather cut out my own eyes than let someone else run my empire.
I stared out at the drab gray exterior and the weeds sprouting along the walls like strangling vines. Chika was dead silent next to me. Her body was coiled and tensed, like a panther ready to spring. She was my weapon and a dagger held to my throat.
A thousand thoughts raced through my head. They were always racing, racing, racing. Running wild. I could barely slow them down. I closed my eyes, but that didn’t help. I stared down at my phone, tapping away mindlessly, scrolling through social media, letting myself drown in the onslaught of images and text and videos and sound.
It was the only thing that could cut through the cacophony of my brain.
I’d always been like this. Restless, noisy. I’d never been able to keep it under control. I was constantly thinking. My inner monologue was on fast-forward, constantly hopping from topic to topic, from scene to scene, planning, plotting, scheming, and for a while it served me well. I could outthink my opponents by sheer willpower alone.
But it was distracting. Sometimes I couldn’t sit still for more than two minutes. I would bounce all over the place, pacing the room, scribbling on pieces of paper whatever inane crap screamed through my skull.
I had to find some way to get it under control before I drowned.
“Are you okay?” James looked back at me over his dark sunglasses. He had a gun strapped to his chest and a long rifle leaning against his shoulder.
“I’m fine.” I kept my eyes on my phone. Concentrate. Calm. Centered. “James, stay with the cars. Make sure we’re not ambushed. Chika, you’re with me.”
Chika silently opened her door and got out.
“Are you sure? You know—”
“You’ll get further if you learn to take orders.” I glared at him, feeling slightly guilty for snapping, but my head was in a particularly bad position and I couldn’t waste energy on him right now.
He only nodded and faced forward.
I got out. Chika stepped up beside me, and together we walked to the bland side entrance. The handle was rusty and it squealed when I pulled it, but the door swung inward toward deep black.
Chika went first without being told. She was good like that. I appreciated a soldier that took initiative, even if she was biding her time to stab me in the back. For now, she was incredibly useful.
I shoved my phone away even though I wanted to keep looking at the screen. My brain’s volume doubled as we entered the quiet warehouse, our steps echoing into the vast, empty space. I crunched over broken glass, rotting leaves, and human refuse like empty chip bags and fast food soda cups. Chika turned on a flashlight, though weak sunlight streamed in from the windows up toward the top of the space.
I saw him standing in the middle of the vast emptiness. Chika slowed, but I didn’t. He was tall, a big man like all the Oligarchs, with broad shoulders and a sultry, cocky smile. His lips were full and his hair was clipped short and stylishly pushed back. He wore jeans and a long sleeve button-down and looked almost casual, except for the gun at his hip, displayed in a visible holster.
I stopped ten feet away.
“I’m here,” I said.
Redmond Orchard grinned, showing straight, white teeth. He was a handsome man, for a pit viper. “Glad you could make it. Everyone always says you’re smart, but I wasn’t so sure.”
I refused to let him see how much that bothered me. “What do you want?”
“I was hoping I could show you something.”
I gestured. “Be my guest, although I’ve seen enough used needles to last a lifetime.”
He chuckled but turned and walked deeper into the gloom.
I refused to hesitate. I followed, even if we were entering his domain. Chika kept pace and I could feel her tension.
I shared it. Among the thousand thoughts that flew through my mind at a hundred miles per second were all the different ways this could go wrong: various types of ambushes, hidden assassins in the rafters, even my own family waiting to lock me up and cart me away. That was the worst fate of all—taken by the people I despised the most.
Redmond led us to a stack of rotting wooden crates toward the back-right corner. He shoved them aside, reached down, and grasped a handle hidden in the floor. He yanked open a door and let it drop with a massive boom.
Light appeared, illuminating a set of steps that jutted down into the bowels of the building.
