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“Our agents are ghosts,” he explains. “They’re all dead in the traditional sense, but I will give you a choice now. Squeeze my hand if you understand.”
I squeeze. He stares into my eyes, searching for something, except I’m not sure what. Why do I feel like he’s testing me?
“You have two options,” he says. “Option one, you go back to your old life as Ivy Penrose. No one will ever know you’ve been here, or option two…” He drops his voice. “You stay dead and join us. We will train you to kill. We can give you more power than you could ever imagine.”
“Daisy…” I murmur. Stephanie rushes to my side and tries to give me more water, but I jerk my chin away and ask, “Where’s Daisy?”
Her face falls. She doesn’t need to say anything. Her expression speaks more than words ever could, confirming what I already know. I felt it from the moment I woke up like a part of my soul had been wrenched away.
“She’s dead,” Alaric answers. He bows his head. “I’m sorry.”
Since our parents died, it’s been me and Daisy against the world. Without her, I have no one. A single tear slides down my cheek, stinging my open cuts.
“Spencer Bexley.” My voice is hoarse and faint, but Alaric can hear me. “I want him dead.”
“We can help you kill him,” Alaric says. “However, it has to be your choice. After this, there’s no going back to your old life. Everyone you’ve ever known will think you’re dead. Do you understand?”
I muster all my energy and squeeze his fingers as hard as possible.
“Welcome to the Killers Club, Ivy.” Alaric smiles. “You’re one of us now.”
* * *
The old Ivy Penrose died that night.
I lost a part of myself that I’ll never get back and swore my unwavering loyalty to a club that gave me a second chance at life, but nothing prepared me for the test that was coming…
CHAPTER1
FREDDIE
PRESENT DAY…
“My real name is Daisy Penrose, and…” Her sparkling eyes meet mine. “I’m in witness protection.”
My head spins. Witness protection? We’ll have to find out why she faked her death, but that’s not my first instinct. I need to know who she’s running from and who needs to die for hurting her so that I can tear them apart with my bare hands.
“And no one calls me Daisy anymore,” she continues, wincing when she says her name. There are painful memories attached to it. “I’m Rose now. That’s what you should call me.”
She’s changed her name, but what else is different since I last saw her?
“Before we go any further,” Callen says, leaning to snatch her bag from her lap and hurling it out of the window, “you won’t be needing that.”
“What the fuck! My phone and purse were in there,” she objects. An elderly woman hobbling along the pavement narrowly avoids getting knocked out by the flying bag. “You almost killed her!”
“I’d be putting her out of her misery.” Callen shrugs casually, then smirks. “And don’t worry, princess. I’m sure one of your boyfriends can fight over who buys you a new bag.”
Seb grits his teeth while I hiss, “What’s wrong with you, Callen?”
“Stuff is replaceable,” Callen says. “How can we trust her when we don’t know who she really is?”
“You don’t know who I am?” She laughs dryly and turns on us. “Are you forgetting that I was having an innocent drink, then dragged into the middle of a shoot-out? Who areyou?”
“We should be asking you the same question,” Callen flips her question around, treating her like a mass murderer on trial. “Why are you in witness protection?”
“Enough, Callen,” I growl.
My fists clench, resisting every urge not to throw him out of the moving car.
