He’d been told things like this his entire life, but never had it felt more hopeless to have such a gift be so useless. All the gifts in the world couldn’t fix this, so what was the point?
Jonas folded his arms. “Not interested. I’ve got my mum to look after.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Jack’s tone softened, as if he knew, somehow. “I have an offer. I’ll pay for your degree—whichever one you choose. I’ll cover your mother’s care. In return, when you graduate, you’ll come work for me.”
Jonas narrowed his eyes. “Doing what?”
“Building something that matters,” Jack said simply. “An organisation that will move in the shadows. We’ll take down the people governments can’t touch. You’d be our watcher. Our shield. With your skills, you could keep us alive.”
Jonas’s throat worked. It sounded insane. Too good. Too dangerous. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the best I’ve ever seen and, believe me, I’ve seen the best.” Jack’s gaze held steady. “You have until tomorrow night to decide.”
“That’s not long.”
Jack tilted his head, arms folded, looking relaxed in a way Jonas knew he wasn’t. “It’s more than I give most, so take the win, kid.”
“Wait, I can’t leave my mum, especially now, so if that’s on the table, count me out.”
Jack looked away as if he was thinking, before looking back at Jonas. “You’ll be doing tech work, and your situationis different, so I’m happy for you to continue living your life. Just make sure you keep them separate, and I say that for her protection, not ours. The others in your team have had to leave everything behind, including their families.”
Jonas nodded; that he could do. His mum was all he had, and he’d do anything for her. “Understood, I’ll let you know.”
And then he was gone, swallowed by the dark.
Jonas walked home in a daze, too many thoughts whirling through his brain, too many decisions that felt like they weighed more than he could shoulder. That night he didn’t sleep. He opened his laptop, fingers flying as he dug deeper and deeper, down a rabbit hole he couldn’t escape from. Jack Granger. Eidolon. The deeper he hacked, the harder the resistance pushed back. Firewalls rose like iron gates, code snaking at him like vipers.
And then another presence came. A hacker, fast and merciless, their code snapping at his heels. For hours Jonas fought—dodge, strike, counterstrike, until sweat beaded his temples and his pulse hammered. He felt alive. Finally, finally, he broke through.
And what he found stopped him cold. Case files. Missions. Proof of lives saved, threats neutralised. Not chaos, but order. Not greed, but justice. Jack Granger’s words hadn’t been a lie.
Jonas sat back, heart racing. He wanted this. Not for the money, not even for the degree—but because it mattered. This he could do. He could make a difference here when other parts of his life fell apart.
The next night, he returned to the same street, nervous energy vibrating off him. Jack was waiting, as if he’d had no doubt Jonas would return. Two men were at his side, one covered in tattoos, grin sharp as he stuck out a hand. “That was fun, mate. You nearly had me a few times.”
Jonas blinked. “That was you?”
“Will Granger,” he said easily. “Welcome to the club.”
The other man was auburn-haired, quiet, his presence steady and unreadable, a deadly air humming around him like electricity.
Jack’s voice was calm. “Your answer?”
Jonas swallowed, then nodded. “I’ll do it. But on one condition. I stay in contact with my mum. Regularly. No matter what.”
Jack inclined his head. “Agreed.” He gestured to the auburn-haired man. “This is Bás. He’ll be your new boss.”
Bás’s handshake was firm, his eyes assessing but not unkind. “Welcome to Shadow Elite, Watchdog.”
And just like that, Jonas Mason’s future was rewritten.
Chapter 1
The drone’scamera feed was crisp enough to pick out the steam curling from Oliver Grant’s cappuccino three rooftops away. A faint hum vibrated in Jonas Mason’s left ear from the earpiece, more felt than heard over the winter wind cutting across the slate tiles beneath him.
The roof was slick with frost, grit crunching faintly under the tread of his boots as he shifted into a lower crouch. He adjusted the joystick, letting the quadcopter dip toward the café awning. The sodium streetlamps painted the street in amber, but the drone’s software filtered it into cool, clean light.
He didn’t have to think about the tech. His hands moved by instinct, wrists loose, thumbs precise. Muscle memory and an IQ of 185 did most of the work.
