hollowed out my stomach, and I wrapped my arms around my waist, hunching
over. Gasping with silent sobs, I acknowledged I had failed the last of my family,
the only people who had seen me as someone worth saving.
I had been unable to keep them safe.
I had been out of the country when the drunk driver had slammed Carl and
Becca’s car off the road. And Kelsey…oh god!
My legs went loose, and I slid to the deck. The image of Kelsey’s grim
acceptance of her impending death would haunt me forever. Useless, scalding tears fell.
For years, it seemed no matter where I turned, monsters waited and took
everything. For a while, I allowed the Ardens to convince me safety lay with your family. Memories swirled and gathered—Carl’s quiet strength, Becca’s
unconditional love, Kelsey’s laughter—together they gave me a protective light
to hold back the dark. Now that the three most precious things in my world were
gone, and the darkness pressed closer than ever, eager to suck me down. Under
my sorrow, a furious determination emerged.
This time I wouldn’t fail my family, or their memories. It was time to make
the monsters pay.
CHAPTER 9
W ith my emotional breakdown clumsily packed away, I headed back
inside to resume wading through the available information on Ellery.
Tag and Delacourt were at the table, and Kayden was coming back from the kitchen, two cups of coffee in hand. He held one up and raised an eyebrow in silent question. Grateful, I took his offering, and then settled into an empty chair.
The man truly was psychic. I took a sip, indulging in the bitter bite of caffeine.
“Tell me what you have so far on Ellery.”
Paperwork from the file was arranged in some kind of order. Probably by
Tag, since he was adding another layer to a pile as he spoke. “Master Sergeant
Reeve Ellery, age thirty-three, born in Richmond, Virginia to a nice, middle-income family. Life was good for little Reeve until his dad got laid off, made friends with Chivas Regal, and lost his wife to an old friend. The wife and now
ex-friend disappeared, leaving Reeve with Daddy and Mr. Chivas.”
Kayden, leaning against the pass-through counter, picked up the retelling.
“Joined the Corps straight out of high school. Went overseas, moved up the ranks, ran a series of successful missions, until he went MIA when his team was
ambushed.”
Delacourt pushed the laptop over to me. “Ellery’s personality profile.”
Setting my coffee on the table, I dragged it closer, quickly perusing the report. “Nice,” I murmured. “Organized, self-interested, callous, able to blend in,
lacks accountability. Yet no bumps on his record.”
“Traits of a sociopath.”
Blinking at Kayden’s grim statement, I corrected, “Psychopath. He may have started out as a sociopath, but with his tendency toward collateral damage and the assumption his personality is fracturing under each assumed ability, he’s more of a psychopath now.”
Despite the topic, a quick grin flashed over Tag’s face. “That psychology class is coming in handy.”
I gave him the answer his comment demanded. I flipped him off.
“Psycho or sociopath,” Kayden said. “It doesn’t matter what label you give
him, what matters is stopping him.”
Ellery was like any killer, he had to start somewhere. There was only one person here who would know what tipped him over edge and started him on this
path. I turned to Delacourt. “What happened on his last mission?”
