“The chatter on the dark web is calling it the harvesting season.” Jinx broke the silence. “Seems human blood has become a high commodity.”
“Or they are draining them dry, looking for people with Golden blood, since the list has been wiped from the search engines.” King frowned, glancing at Jinx. “They still trying to upload the lists?”
“Almost every damn day. It’s probably driving them crazy.” Jinx frowned, looking irritated. “But don’t worry, the Jinx won’t let it happen.” As if he realized he referred to himself in third person again, his eyes shot to Sloan and then Damon, who had a sinister grin on his lips as if just waiting for Sloan to order the beheading.
Kane glanced at his watch. He needed to leave now if he wanted to make it to the visitation on time. “I need to get out of here,” Kane said as he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Then he looked at Jinx. “Find out if there have been any other deaths similar to hers in the last month.”
“Planned on it,” Jinx replied, putting his phone in his back pocket. “Should I call, text, email, send it via United States Postal Service, UPS, or FedEx any results I find?”
“I’ll keep you guys informed.” Kane ignored Jinx as he headed for the door.
“Sooo… just to confirm, we’re not mad at me, right?” Jinx asked Sloan, which had Kane grinning. “I can keep my head?”
“Get out,” Sloan growled.
Jinx bolted, nearly tripping over his own feet as he scrambled for the door. “Jesus, working with you guys is gonna get me killed,” he muttered, sounding equal parts terrified and impressed.
Kane couldn’t help but chuckle as he followed the kid outside. “Hey, Jinx,” he called after him as he made his way toward his bike. “Good job.”
Jinx froze, blinking like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Kane meant it, though. The guy might be a pain in the ass and talk too damn much, but when it came to digging into the dark web and pulling information out of nowhere, he was the best there was. He wasn’t officially on the payroll—just paid per job—but still, he’d proven himself an asset.
“This world’s a fucked-up place,” Jinx said suddenly, his tone losing the goofy edge it usually carried. “If I can do my part to help you guys stop this kind of shit, I’ll do it. What happened to that girl… nobody deserves that. If I can help stop it from happening again, then I’m in.”
Kane studied him for a second, then gave him a nod—his version of respect. “Good to know, Jinx. Just remember, I appreciate you…” His lips twitched. “Even when you piss me the fuck off.”
That earned a shaky grin from Jinx. He took a step backward, still clutching his phone like a lifeline. “Hey, uh, does the big guy in there really decapitate people?”
Kane swung a leg over his bike, strapping his bag down before looking up with a smirk. Instead of answering, he revved the engine—loud and mean—letting the sound speak for itself.
Jinx’s eyes went wide. “I’ll take that as a yes!” he shouted over the roar as Kane pulled away.
The laughter faded with the wind as Kane hit the open road. The humor, the banter—all of it vanished as his thoughts darkened. Someone had drained that girl like she was nothing more than a resource. Someone had sealed the file, covered it up, and buried her story.
Not for long. The Guardians didn’t walk away from something like this. Demons weren’t the only evil the Dark Guardians hunted.
Kane’s jaw tightened as he sped down the road, the rumble of his bike echoing his resolve. Shit was about to get real, and whoever was behind it had no idea what kind of storm was coming for them.
CHAPTER 3
Monica stood in the funeral home's restroom, staring blankly at her reflection in the harsh fluorescent light. The dark circles beneath her eyes looked almost bruised from sleepless nights and crying. Her lips were dry, and her cheeks gaunt. Monica couldn’t remember the last time she ate anything. She looked like hell, as if grief itself had claimed her face, and she honestly couldn’t bring herself to care.
Her big sister wasn’t missing anymore. No, she was now gone forever, along with the hope that Monica had carried through this nightmare.
The fragile hope Monica had carried that Beverly was still alive somewhere had died the moment the call came. The police said the words gently, but nothing could soften the blow of hearing that her sister’s remains had been found in the river.
Her eyes narrowed as anger bubbled deep within her chest. It was easier to feel rage than heartbreak, but both emotions consumed her.
Twenty-seven. That was all the time her sister got. Twenty-seven years before some monster decided she wasn’t worth another breath, another heartbeat. They’d taken her, drained her, and discarded her like trash.
A single tear slipped free, sliding down her cheek. She gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white as her body trembled with waves of grief that tore through her. Hatred burned in her veins, dark and corrosive. Whoever had done this, whoever had taken Beverly’s life, was still out there living life as her sister lay in a cold casket.
“Aunt Monnie?”
The small, trembling voice broke through her storm of emotions. Monica drew a sharp breath and blinked rapidly. She forced a smile on her face before she turned. Standing in the doorway was a little girl with dark curls and big, brown eyes—Beverly’s eyes.
“Hey, precious,” Monica whispered, crouching down and scooping the girl into her arms. She looked up to see Aunt Fay hovering behind her, worry creasing her face.
“She started looking for you as soon as they came in the door,” Fay said softly.