PROLOGUE

My boss is a fucking douchebag.

There.

I said it.

I said it in my mind.

And I kept repeating it like a mantra in ‘my mind’ as I stormed through the sterile hallways leading to Alarion’s doorstep.

This dude better have a good reason for interrupting my retirement celebration.

My fists were clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms, almost drawing blood.

I needed the pain to ground me before I actually followed through on my fantasy of rearranging someone’s face.

The moment I reached his office door, I forced myself to pause, and took a deep breath.

Deep breath in, Kamari.

Hold.

Release.

That didn’t do anything to calm my racing pulse, but at least I could think straight enough not to commit murder—yet.

With a final breath, I shoved the door open without knocking, a gesture that I knew would annoy Alarion. And I resisted the urge to smile in satisfaction as his jaw tightened sharply.

She fucking scores.

He sat behind his massive oak desk like some kind of king, his old face blank, betraying nothing as those calculating blue eyes assessed me.

“I specifically told you, Alarion, that taking down Jessie and his trafficking ring was my last mission. My. Last. One.” I stalked toward his desk, planting my palms on the polished surface and leaning in until we were eye to eye. “So do you want to explain why I’m standing in your office at six in the goddamn morning instead of being fucked by the smoking hot stranger I picked up at Venom last night? To celebrate my retirement.”

A muscle twitched beneath his left eye—the only crack in his composure—before he deliberately shifted his attention to the bloated file sitting between us.

“I apologize for the inconvenience—”

“Oh, it’s way more than an inconvenience, sir.”

“—but I wouldn’t have called you in if this wasn’t critical.” His tone was infuriatingly level and calm.

“Every mission is critical to you,” I shot back. “Every. Single. One. But here’s the thing—I don’t give a damn how world-ending this one is. I’m done being your personal grim reaper. Done.”

Something almost resembling a smile ghosted across his lips. “You’ll want to reconsider once you hear what I have to say.”

“Hard pass.”

I knew his game.

He’d launch into some elaborate briefing meant to hook into my guilt, my sense of duty, or whatever psychological button he needed to push to get me back in the field.

But honestly? I couldn’t afford to listen.

Not anymore.

For a decade, I’d been the Agency’s most lethal weapon.

Their ace assassin.

The one they called when the impossible needed doing. I’d eliminated targets in seventeen countries, dismantled criminal empires, and perfected the art of making people disappear.

It was exhilarating. Addictive, even.

But that life was over now, whether Alarion accepted it or not.

I had to force myself to breathe normally as memories from my last mission flashed through my mind—the tremor in my hands as I’d lined up the shot, the way my vision had tunneled unexpectedly, the cold sweat that had nothing to do with adrenaline.

And then, the doctor’s words from last night, delivered with clinical detachment that somehow made them worse:

“You have just six months left to live, give or take. I’m sorry Kamari.”

Six months to live.

“Kamari, just hear me out…”

“NO.” I said flatly, folding my hand across my chest.

“For God’s sake Ama, hear the man out and stop being so fucking stubborn”

I spun around to find Rave leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a deep scowl carved into his handsome face.

My best friend—though I’d rather eat glass than admit that sappy shit out loud—looked like he’d just stepped off the set of an action movie.

Black tactical leather clung to his muscular frame, his signature red scarf wrapped around his neck, and his collection of wicked-looking daggers glinted at his waist.

He looked like death itself.

Fitting, since that’s exactly what he delivered.

“Then you hear him out,” I snapped, gesturing at him dismissively. “You’re already here, dressed for murder. And last I checked, the Agency has dozens of other highly trained killers. So why the hell is Alarion hell-bent on dragging my retired ass back in?”

Rave opened his mouth, probably to lecture me about duty or some bullshit, but Alarion cut him off.

“Because you’re the only one capable of pulling this off, Kamari. The best person for this job.”

“I am the best one for every job. I am aware of this but I am not…”

“Lance was taken, Ama.”

The words came from Rave, and the moment they left his lips everything stopped.

My heart. My breath. Time itself seemed to freeze as my brain struggled to process what he’d just said.

No. No, that’s not—he couldn’t have—

“It’s not a joke, Ama.” Rave’s voice was gentler now, laced with something that might have been pity. “Hell, you know I’d never fuck around about something like this. Lance was abducted and he’s still missing.”

“Stop talking.”

My voice came out strangled, barely above a whisper. I tried to move toward Rave, to grab him and shake him until he admitted this was some sick prank, but my body refused to cooperate.

My legs trembled violently, threatening to give out entirely.

Even my lungs had forgotten how to function.

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

“How?” I managed to choke out.

Behind me, I heard Alarion’s chair scrape against the floor as he stood. “I wish Rave had let me break this to you more delicately, but yes, it’s true. We’ve confirmed…”

“Delicately?” The word tasted like poison. “Delicately?!”

My hand shot out and gripped the edge of Alarion’s desk hard enough that my knuckles went white. The wood groaned under the pressure, and some distant part of me hoped it would splinter apart in my hands.

“When?” My voice was quiet, too quiet which was a far contrast to the rage that was quickly building up inside me. “When did this happen?”

“Three days ago,” Alarion admitted.

The calm shattered.

“THREE DAYS?!” I exploded, whirling to face him. “My son—my baby—was kidnapped three fucking days ago, and you didn’t think that warranted an immediate phone call?! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“You were deep undercover on the Jessie operation. We couldn’t risk blowing your cover or compromising…”

“FUCK YOUR OPERATION!” My scream echoed off the walls, “That’s my child, Alarion! My ten-year-old son! He should have been your first priority, not some mission! You’re telling me you had three days—SEVENTY-TWO HOURS—and you’ve accomplished nothing?!”

“We’ve been working around the clock,” he said, and for once, he actually looked affected. “We’ve identified his abductor and tracked his location. That’s why I called you in. We need you to lead the extraction.”

This cannot be happening.

It just can’t…

My hands were shaking as I snatched the file off his desk and flipped it open, but the picture I saw staring back at me destroyed me.

Lance.

My beautiful, precious boy—the only pure thing in my blood-soaked world—was sitting on an old bed, in what looked like an abandoned room. But it was the tears stains on his dusty face that made bile rise in my throat

Those brilliant blue eyes that sparkled when he laughed, they were dim now. Haunted. Filled with so much fear.

Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them.

I studied every centimeter of that photo, burning every single detail into my memory. I needed them seared into my brain so that when I found the monster responsible for the fear in his eyes, I would…

“Our surveillance satellite captured this yesterday before we lost the signal,” Alarion said softly.

Someone had stolen my son.

Every breath I took felt like swallowing glass.

“He looks so scared,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “He’s only ten years old. He’s just a baby. He shouldn’t—he can’t—”

“I’m so sorry, Ama.” Rave’s hand landed on my shoulder, but I couldn’t feel it.

I shook my head, and a manic laugh bubbled up from my chest as I slammed the file back onto the desk. When I turned to face Alarion again, I knew my expression was murderous.

“You promised me he’d be safe. You swore you’d protect him with your best agents, your top security. I kept him away from my world specifically to prevent this!” My voice cracked with fury. “I didn’t want him anywhere near this life, near the violence and death that follows me everywhere. So you’re going to explain to me—right fucking now—how my son ended up like THIS!”

“Kamari—”

“But most importantly, I want you to tell me who did this. What I want—what I need—is a name.” I swiped at my tears aggressively, pulling myself together through sheer force of will. “Who took him? Where are they?”

Because I was going to slaughter them.

Slowly.

“His name is Edgar Voss,” Alarion said carefully. “But finding him… it’s going to be very hard.”

“Why?”

But of course I didn’t give a damn. I woild travel the twelve hells themselves tro find this mother fucker.

“That’s the problem. He’s not in THIS universe.”

I blinked. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

But I knew what he was saying though it didn’t make any sense.

Universe jumping was something very rare, but not impossible. Everyone knew that there were twelve alternate versions of our universes, each mirroring the other with little or significant differences.

Mirroring as in everything existing here existed in each of the other universes. Difference because, the realities tend to be parallel.

At least that was what I understood from history class.

“Edgar has the ability to travel between different planets and universes. He’s been using it to kidnap children across multiple realities—thirty-two kids so far, including Lance. We finally tracked him to the Seventh Universe, but—”

“Thirty-two?” Horror washed over me. “What is he doing with them?”

“We’re not certain,” Rave interjected grimly, “but from what I,ve heard about the vastard I would bet he’s uyp to no good.”

‘Fuck.”

Alarion leaned forward. “You’ll need a team for this, Kamari. Edgar has….”

“Fuck your team,” I snarled, snatching up the file again. “Your ‘best agents’ failed to protect my son, so forgive me if I don’t trust them to help me get him back. I work alone. End of discussion.”

“Kamari, be reasonable—”

“The only thing you need to concern yourself with, Alarion, is sending me every scrap of information you have on this Edgar Voss piece of shit. And find a way to send me to whatever planet he is on.” I fixed him with a stare that had made grown men weep.

“And let’s get something crystal clear, I’m not doing this for you or the Agency. This isn’t a fucking mission. The only person I care about saving is Lance. If the other kids make it out, fine. If not?” I shrugged coldly. “Not my problem.”

“At least consider backup—”

“What I’ll consider,” I interrupted icily, “is how many ways I can make Edgar scream before he dies. Now get me everything. Files, intel, dimensional coordinates, whatever I need.”

Alarion studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Be careful. Edgar Voss is extremely dangerous.”

A smile curved my lips—the kind that never reached my eyes, the kind that had been the last thing countless targets saw before the light left their eyes.

“Dangerous?” I let out a low, dark laugh. “Oh, Alarion. By the time I’m done, Edgar Voss is going to wish danger was all he had to worry about. Because compared to what I’m about to do to him?”

I leaned in close, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

“Compared to me, he’s a fucking amateur.”