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PROLOGUE

AUS

“You’ve got this, Aus. All you need is a little courage,” Leo says.

“But use your brain,” Scarlet reminds me. “Don’t rush into anything.”

I hold back a scoff. These two of all people telling me to trust my head and guts is pretty damned laughable. Leo has been all nerves since I met him, and Scarlet, God love her, wasn’t exactly blessed with common sense.

If Tim were here, he’d offer some other miserable platitude. Tell me to follow my heart or some shit.

Another darkly funny thought, considering he lost his. In more ways to one. First to a woman who scorned him, cost him everything he owned. And then again—this time, it was literally removed from his chest—to the human embodiment of evil herself.

Rouge Montrose, my boss before her all-too-timely demise.

But all the brains, heart, and courage in the world can’t help me now.

Things are pretty fucking hopeless, truth be told. The love of my life is being held in jail on a bail I can’t afford awaiting a kangaroo-court trial for murder. The club is in terrible financial shape.

And the bodies keep piling up.

Three people are dead so far, and I can’t shake the feeling that numbers four, five, and six are sitting in this sub-basement right now.

We can turn back. It might be a good idea. This shit is way bigger than I ever anticipated. The Montrose legacy, for all our efforts, has persisted in ways I had no way of predicting.

Everything she told me was right. Everything she said came true.

We descended into the bowels of the Jade Sanctum, past the casks of whiskey and vodka, around the tanks where we brew our craft beer, and through the barrels where we age and ferment our fine wines. And right here, hidden under a tiny rug under a tiny table decorated with a tiny vase holding a tiny bouquet of poppies, is our mark. A small trapdoor, big enough for one man to climb inside.

What’s under the trapdoor? I have no fucking clue.

But it can’t be anything good.

I have a feeling this is going to blow Rouge Montrose’s organ harvesting operation out of the damned water.

And here I am, flanked by two of my waitstaff, when I should have brought the National fucking Guard with me.

Scarlet is right. I shouldn’t rush into this.

I need reinforcements.

But who can I call? The cops are out. They’re in the pocket of Rouge’s protégée.

I don’t even know who I can trust anymore.

I can trust Scarlet and Leo.

I can trust the woman I love, even though she’s not here to help me.

I put my trust in my bar staff, and that was a big fucking mistake.

Three people, all my employees, are dead. Four if you count Tim.

More will follow if we don’t put an end to this.

But I can’t do it alone. I need help.

Only one other person has my complete and total trust.