Chapter 1 Reaper

The event that changed Reaper is revealed.

Reaper, 8 years ago, age 22

Velvety midnight shadows broken by slices of silver moonlight cloaked the living room of the penthouse.

Silence hung with the same weight as the pall at a funeral—definitely unusual for a Thursday evening workweek. Both of us—my fiancée and me—worked long hours in professional jobs which afforded us a luxurious lifestyle.

“Sonji?” I called after tossing my keys into a dish on a table near the doorway. “I’m home.”

She must be working late, I mused. Not a problem given I was married to my job as much as she was hers in public relations. Sonji would understand if the tables were turned. A quick glance at my phone revealed no texts or missed calls.

I now had time to work on a personal project, one that could end save countless people from starvation. R.A.I.N., as I called it.

Regulated Atmospheric Intervention Network. A machine that could manipulate the weather. I had been working on the device from day one of my mechanical engineering bachelor program, one I entered at the sophomore level at the age of eighteen. My parents called me gifted. The professors at Dartmoor University dubbed me a genius.

Whatever. Simply put, my brain meshed easily with designs for mechanical devices. I had completed the undergraduate degree in two years, and now, the master’s program was nearly complete. R.A.I.N. would serve as my thesis.

I moved through the townhouse, freezing in place just short of my home office.

The door stood open–a door I always locked–a pallid shaft of light spilling into the hallway.

Dread began building in my gut, a rollercoaster of terror blending with the sinking suspicion that Sonji’s absence wasn’t normal at all.

A flick of my hand on the light switch by the door bathed the room in faintly flickering fluorescence. The drafting board near the window was bare. Pieces of masking tape mocked me. The edges curled like shaved chocolate. Bitterness coated my tongue, singing my throat with hatred.

My cell rang, Sonji’s name flashing across the screen. I accepted the call.

“Busy day?” I asked.

“I’m disappointed, Dominic,” Sonji laughed, her husky voice thick with delight. “No loving greeting for your fiancée?”

“I’d love to greet her if she were here. When will you be home?” I made my way to the drafting board, fists clenching to find a torn corner of the paper all that remained.

“I’m not coming back,” she explained in a clipped, business-like tone, as if we were negotiating a contract for the purchase of goods. “The offer I had for delivering those plans of yours was one I couldn’t say no to.”

Betrayal assaulted me, sobering in the solitary, vicious slice to my heart. An impenetrable wall began forming around it. Never again would I allow myself to be weakened by love. The blood of the Cosa Nostra ran thick in my veins, lying dormant since leaving Italy at my mother’s behest. She had wanted me to find an honest way to make a life.

Just like a stalking predator, the mafia’s essence prowled the shadows waiting to be unleashed. Sonji’s betrayal roused it from hibernation.

“Bring the plans back. Do it now and I’ll let you leave the country without putting a bullet in your head.” I walked to the mini bar, poured a glass of whiskey, and drained it before opening the wall safe where my weapons were stored. Weapons I hadn’t used in months.

The Sig P365 fit in my palm like a second skin.

“You left the old way of life behind when your mother talked you into running away to college, Dom. Your connections were severed that day. Any threats you make are worthless.” Sonji’s voice rippled with barely contained mirth.

It was my turn to laugh. The world around me thought I was a genius with a penchant for inventing machines. Partially true. A fact that barely skimmed the surface of who and what I truly was. A molten flame of rage leapt to life in my chest. Each beat of my heart stoked the flame until a conflagration raced through my veins. She didn’t really know me. No one did. Not even Derek or Rafael, the men I trusted with my life.

“The old world may be behind me, Sonji, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten how la famiglia handled situations such as this.”

“You’ll never find me, Dom.”

The call disconnected, Sonji’s vain attempt to maintain the upper hand. One I fully intended to destroy—along with the woman I now hated.