PROLOGUE
BOSS UNKNOWN
TEN YEARS AGO
“Everybody makes mistakes. This was mine. I can honestly say that when I look back at my life there are few things I regret—that day was one of them, that evening is one that will burn in my soul for an eternity. I imagine, just like everyone else involved, I’ll one day have to own up to what I did.”
“That day…” He took a seat across from me. “…may come sooner than you realize.”
“Do you know something I don’t?”
“Would it be easier if I did?” he asked from his spot in the shadowy corner. “Just know, the truth will eventually come to light. Hug your daughters a little tighter, smile a bit more, get a damn haircut, and stop blaming yourself for something that’s already happened.”
I would always blame myself.
It didn’t matter if someone gave me permission not to, as if they had the power to even be the one to allow the mark to get buried. One bad choice doesn’t just affect your future, it affectsmultiple futures, multiple lives. It may not make a difference in the moment, but the grim reaper is patient like that.
No need to take my soul then.
He’d wait for the perfect time to strike.
And enjoy the anxiety that filled every part of me until that day came.
A nightmare? Yes.
My fault? Absolutely. I called the shots. I was a boss, after all.
A powerful one who knew better.
I stared into the glass of whiskey and swirled the amber-hued liquid. “Does anyone else know?”
“No.” He clipped out the answer without further explanation.
“Good.” I tossed back the rest of the drink. “Then we never mention my impending death again, agreed?”
“Fine.” He sighed. “But a boss dying will be a big deal.”
“A boss living this long is just as big of a deal,” I countered. “Let’s go grab some food.”
“Sure.” He stood and led me out of my office.
The sound of laughter filled the house.
I think… I think I’ll miss that the most.
Them.
I saw him then, a complete and total older version of the life I stole, and I knew… the sand had already started to sift.
Tick. Tock.
SWEET POISON
LOUIS
Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies. — Nelson Mandela
"Tempest.” My voice cracked. “You can leave if you want.”