Page 1 of Shattered Hearts
Prologue
Finn
I stand alone in my black suit, watching the group of mourners from across the cemetery. The gray clouds shrouding the sky and light mist echo my mood. A woman wearing a dark dress wails as her husband guides her to where the casket holding their daughter waits for their final good-byes.
Where mywifewaits. But her parents don’t want me there.
Not that I blame them.
After all, I’m the reason she’s dead.
I rub the jagged pain in my chest and try not to choke on the guilt that’s flooded me ever since I saw what our enemy did to her. Saw how he painted the floor red with her blood.
There was no viewing of the body. Not when she was hacked into pieces like a piece of meat by that fucking butcher, De Luca.
I bow my head, drowning in a fresh wave of guilt and despair. It was my job to protect her, and I failed. I’m an enforcer for the Irish Kings, and I couldn’t even keep my own wife safe.
From my solitary post beneath the tree, no one can hear the agonized noise that rips from my lungs. Loving Brianne was a mistake that cost her life. A fatal risk that I will never repeat.
I should have known better. Monsters like me don’t deserve love.
After one last shuddering breath, I straighten.
“Goodbye, Bri,” I whisper. “I’ll avenge you if it’s the last thing I do.”
I take a final glance at the casket before turning and walking away.
Chapter 1
Three years later
Riley
“Give me coffee or give me death.”
I make the announcement as I breeze into the breakroom around eleven in the morning. I feel like I’ve already put in eight hours’ worth of work, and I’m not alone.
Dark curls bounce around the freckled face of my work wife, Jane Weber, as she heads my way with a signature frown and hands me a cup. “Cheers.”
Jane and I started working for the shelter the same year and share the same fatigue. She’s three years older, and though she rarely smiles, she’s kind.
Midday sunlight slants through the blinds and creates stripes on the linoleum floor. On the outside of the breakroom window are decal letters that readConcrete Rose.
To preserve the population we serve’s safety,Women’s Shelteris left off the name.
The other window in the breakroom overlooks the interior. The beds, the recreation areas, and the women trying to piece their lives back together after the violence has torn them apart. In their faces, I see glimpses of my past…but I don’t want to go down that rabbit hole right now.
The door swings open, and Michelle Adamson pops her head in. Today, her short-cropped hair is set off by a bright orange turtleneck. Michelle wears long-sleeved, high-neck tops year-round to hide her tattoos.
Michelle motions me over. “Riley, there’s a new intake for you.”
She offers me the case file in a green folder, a warning in her deep brown eyes. It’s the type of lookMichelle only gives when she needs us to brace ourselves for an especially gruesome case.
What she doesn’t realize is that when it comes to gruesome, I have plenty of personal experience.
I flip open the file. The new arrival’s name is Claire. Age thirty.My stomach tightens as I scan the summaries of the police reports and medical workups and see what she was subjected to a few weeks ago.
Abduction. Torture. Gang rape…