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PROLOGUE
Anya
I readthe message from Jared again, letting out a huff of frustration. Something about it just feels off. I know he doesn’t have any active cases right now because the partners don’t feel like he’s ready to handle more than one at a time and he just barely wrapped his last one up yesterday. He hasn’t been assigned a new one because the assignment meeting is tomorrow. Yet, he just sent me a text, two hours after he should have been home, saying that he has to work late.
I drum my fingers against my thigh as I stand in the middle of my kitchen and stare at my phone. I’ve been getting a version of this message pretty much every night for the past month, basically since we got married. I pull in a heavy breath and let it out slowly, trying to decide if I really want to go to the extreme that I’m thinking of right now.
Without giving it more thought than necessary, I slip my coat on and grab my purse before leaving my house and heading toward our offices. I try to ignore the guilt that swims inside of me for not trusting Jared. He’s never actually given me a reason to doubt him, but I also wouldn’t say that he’s given me a reason not to. Our relationship was at a pretty casual level, then next thing I knew we were engaged and then before we could even announce it, we had eloped.
Everything happened so quickly, we never even really had the time to build a solid foundation of trust and love. I pause my steps, questioning again if this is the right thing to do. It’s not fair to Jared for me to question his every move just because I felt like being impulsive for the first time ever in my life. I start to turn back around and go home, but that nagging feeling in the back of my head that’s telling me something isn’t right, pushes me forward.
It only takes a little more than ten minutes to walk to the firm’s offices, it’s one of the reasons why I chose the house I did when I was hired two years ago. I like being able to walk to work no matter what the weather is. I step inside and pause for a moment, once again battling with myself on if I want to actually do this.
“Miss Matterson?” Keith, the security guard, sounds surprised, but almost happy to see me. I don’t bother correcting him on my name since technically it still is Matterson. Finding the time to change your name isn’t easy when it’s a task that usually takes all day. So even after a month of marriage, my name is still legally Anya Matterson.
“Hi Keith.”
“Um, I didn’t know you were working tonight.” His eyes keep darting toward the elevators that lead up to our sixth-floor offices.
“I’m not.” I try to give him a casual smile. “But Jared is working late tonight, so I thought I’d surprise him.” I try to keep my voice even, in case what I’m dreading is not actually the case. Keith looks torn, but after a moment of what seems like an internal debate, he finally nods.
“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea.” I want to probe more and find out what he means by that. But I’m pretty sure I already know. Without saying anything else, I walk over to the elevators with a renewed purpose.
The ride up to our floor feels as if it takes forever, but the moment the doors slide open, I don’t even hesitate and I make my way to Jared’s cubicle. He’s still considered low-level, which means that his only space is the small, removable wall that separates him from the other low-level interns. I’m not actually surprised that it’s empty, since there’s not even a semblance of privacy. I start to turn around when a soft noise comes from down the hall and immediately, it’s like everything clicks into place. I let out a low scoff at how cliche this whole thing is. I walk down the hall, past my office, but only two more doors until I come face-to-ass with my husband. My husband who is currently balls deep in Lorraine, my boss of sorts. The fact that they didn’t even have the common sense to shut the door tells me that they really don’t care if they’re caught. I fold my arms over my chest and lean against the door frame. The entire sight in front of me has my stomach turning and the noises they’re making sound like a barnyard full of tortured animals.
I wait exactly seventy-two seconds before I decide I’ve had enough and clear my throat. That simple sound has both of them jumping up and turning around. Jared at least has the decency to look guilty. Lorraine on the other hand, looks like she was waiting for me to catch them. I channel every ounce of self-control I have, ignoring the tempting desire to go Carrie Underwood on their asses.
“Hi honey,” I say with mock-sweetness, “I’m so sorry you had to work late tonight. It looks like it was really rough.” I raise a single brow, almost hoping one of them will try to say something, to give me some bullshit excuse. When neither of them does, I know the truth. This isn’t a one-time thing. Every single message I’ve received from Jared saying he’s working late, every time he went out with friends, it was all a lie. Deciding that I really don’t want to hear what they have to say, I straighten up and prepare to leave.
“You can come grab your shit tomorrow.” Not giving Jared a chance to respond, I turn on my heels and walk back to the elevators. I don’t know if he tries to come after me because I don’t give him a second look.
When I get back down to the lobby, Keith is watching the elevators like it’s the best movie he’s ever seen. As soon as he sees me walk through them he deflates, almost as if he was holding his breath.
“I’m so sorry.” His words are soft, but so genuine.
I give him a small smile. “Thanks Keith.” I don’t say anything, because there’s nothing else to say. Without giving much thought, I pull up the offer letter from one of the many firms I’ve been approached by and reply. Once I do that, I send my resignation letter I have saved to my bosses. Normally, I would keep it completely professional, but a small, petty part of me decides to send a message along with the letter, explaining without explicit detail what just happened. I continue my walk back home, already determined to move on with my life and leave Jared behind.
Sebastian-
I point my gun, not even bothering to look the person in the face before I pull the trigger. I’m in the lead, so Alec, Wyatt, and Tanner are all behind me. Once every body in our path is lying lifeless on the floor, we push forward through the worn-down house.
The place is eerily similar to the types of places I grew up. We moved from house to house and apartment to apartment a lot when I was younger, out of necessity more than anything. But every place we lived in looked so fucking much like this. Barren and worn-down walls and floors, the smell of piss and other bodily fluids that you can’t cover with even the largest amount of air freshener. Just the thought of my childhood has my anger ratcheting up and I push myself further through the house, my focus on finding only one target. When the first two doors come up empty, I stomp harder to the last room and kick the already weakened door in.
“Seb?” The sniveling weasel is crouching down behind an unsteady card table, and his brows are dipped in confusion. There aren’t many people who call me Seb since I’ve always fucking hated it. But James is one of the few who didn’t give a shit how I felt about it.
“Where the fuck is she, James?” He eyes me with confusion for a moment, until what I’m asking seems to fully dawn on him. He lets out a loud bark of laughter and shakes his head.
“You really won’t just let her go, will you?” I squeeze the automatic gun in my hand even tighter, trying to control my fucking anger. I need answers. Which means I can’t just shoot him in the fucking head. Yet. “She chose me, Seb! You need to get over it!”
The symphony of guns cocking behind me is like music to my ears, and it’s the first time James looks scared since he realized it was me that kicked down his door. There was once a time when I would have hesitated over hurting him, I would have tried to help him, but those times are gone.
“I don’t have her.” The way he says it, like she’s a fucking object that you keep in your pocket, makes me sick to my damn stomach.
“Then who fucking has her?” I’m thankful that Alec is able to speak up, because my mind is a fucking mess all of a sudden.
“Gary.” That name means absolutely nothing to me, but apparently it means something to Wyatt.
“Jones?” James nods his head and I glance at Wyatt to see if he knows where we can find him. When he gives me the subtlest of nods, I turn back to James, readjusting the hold I have on my gun.
