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PROLOGUE
ACE
EIGHT YEARS AGO
Today is the day.
It feels like I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life, when in reality it’s only been two years.
Two years of constant worry.
Two years of surveillance to make sure she’s safe.
Two years of protecting her from afar wherever possible.
But today is the day we rescue her from the hellhole we once called home.
Tommy itches restlessly beside me, his blade dragging up and down his arm in rough strokes, but not hard enough to draw blood. I can always tell my foster brother’s level of agitation by whether there’s crimson dripping over the scars and tattoos that litter his arms.
Neither of us has been the same since the first time we stepped foot inside The Factory. Our lives up until that point were horrific on their own, but seeing so much evil at a young age is enough to destroy the humanity in just about anyone.
Tommy always protected me where he could. Took punishments that were meant for me, cut me off before I could say something I would come to regret, and he got me out when I was sure I would die in that house. Everything in the run-down bungalow was rotting, including the people inside it, and all I ever wanted was to escape it from the moment I stepped through the front door when I was seven.
But we couldn’t take her with us when we got out. She was too young. Too vulnerable to live through what we were going to have to in order to build a life for ourselves. So we left. We fled in the middle of the night with the promise that we would come back for her, and that’s exactly what we’re doing.
Despite Mia only being a year younger than me, she’s always been fragile. I guess that’s what happens when you lose both of your parents in a car accident at the age of six and are thrust into the most unimaginable hell possible. She went from a loving family with people who cherished her to a house where she was regularly starved for not tucking her sheets in properly when she made her bed.
We were just a few of the ten children they had shoved in the three-bedroom house, only fostering us in order to collect the check each month, but they didn’t like how close the three of us were, especially Mia and me. They did everything they could to separate us, to keep us away from one another, but we always found a way, and spending the last two years away from her has been like living without one of my limbs.
Mia wouldn’t have survived on the streets, and even though being away from her has made it hard to breathe, I knew this was our best bet. Run. Get our lives together. Find somewhere to live. Rescue her. It just took longer than I would have liked.
Tommy started working for a Mafia family, and I became the youngest dark web hacker in the market at the age of fifteen. Not that anyone knew how old I was, and Tommy has stayed away to make sure of that.
The Saint James family has treated him right, better than either of us deserve after the things we allowed to happen at The Factory, but rationally I know we couldn’t have stopped it even if we wanted to. The first time we stepped into the cesspool, I was nine and Tommy was twelve. Neither of us had any power to shut it down, and after we escaped, they moved the operation. It was too risky for them to keep training girls in that building because we knew everything, and even though we were young, they knew better than to underestimate us.
We became ghosts they knew were out there, but they couldn’t find us, and that’s exactly the way we wanted it to be, especially when it came time to rescue Mia.
My eyes flicker over the dark street again. We’re a block away from our last foster house, and even this proximity has unease pooling in my gut. The memories that flood me each time we’re nearby are enough to make nausea roll over me, but I can’t let it get the best of me right now. We have one purpose, and she’s all that matters.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Tommy murmurs, his blade pressing harder into his flesh until his skin parts and blood pools around the knife.
“What do you mean?” I ask. He’s always had a keen eye for this kind of thing, and it’s the exact reason he’s found such a solid role within the organization over at Frost Industries, despite his age. If he says something’s off, I’m more than happy to believe him because he’s almost always right.
He looks over his shoulder at the street behind us before returning his gaze to the front of the car. It’s a beat-up old shitbox we picked up especially for tonight, but it will do the job. Even if the windows are kind of blurry and the faint stench of body odor lingers on the fabric. “This street. It’s never this quiet at this time of night.”
I look around at the sidewalk and the houses surrounding us and frown. He’s right. It’s just before midnight, which is usually the opportune time for the filth of Chicago to crawl out from the holes they live in during the day. This particular street has three drug dealers and a pawn shop, so this is basically rush hour. Except for tonight. Tonight it’s dead, and now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve seen one person in the two hours we’ve been parked here.
In all the years I lived with the Bridge family, I never saw this street this quiet, and a new wave of unease crashes over me.
Do they know? I don’t know how they could. Mia knew tonight was the night. It hasn’t always been easy to get a message to her, but because we’re close in age, I’ve been able to get into her school a few times to give her messages and reassure her that we are coming for her. But there’s no possible way they could know. Not unless she told them.
I look back at Tommy, his face is completely passive, but the crimson tracks down his arms are the evidence of how he’s really feeling. “What do we do?”
“We’re going in now.” He shoves the door open before he can finish his sentence.
I follow his lead, and the heavy door groans at the sudden movement. This car really is a piece of shit.
Tommy draws his gun from his waistband and trains it ahead of us as I cover our backs. The night air is crisp and quiet. Too fucking quiet.
