The red LED lights of the surveillance room cast a bloody, haunting glow over the monster kneeling at my feet.
I looked at the photographs of myself covering the walls. I looked at the glass cases filled with the violent, terrifying relics of his devotion. By all laws of sanity and self-preservation, I should have been running for the door. I should have been screaming for help.
But as I looked down at Kaelen Cross-the ruthless, untouchable King of the Syndicate, whose massive shoulders were shaking as he buried his face against my stomach-I didn't feel fear.
I felt an overwhelming, absolute surge of power.
My father had traded me for money. The world had ignored me. But this man, this beautiful, lethal devil, had built a shrine to my very existence. He had taken a bullet for me ju
