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Prologue

Ryan

I sat there crouched in the corner, curled into a ball, trying to shield myself from the drizzle. The chill that came with the changing of the seasons was starting to make itself known. Mother Nature seemed like a real bitch when you didn’t have an actual bed to tuck into at night. The hood of my too-big sweatshirt was drawn over my head, hiding my face. All I could see was the trash-littered ground of the alley.

That was really all I needed to see.

All I needed to view was his boots—I would recognize those instantly.

Those boots were stained with the blood and tears of his victims. They would be the first things I burned. That kind of taint couldn’t stay around in the world. I would set the souls of those victims free—he wouldn’t be allowed to keep any part of them.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, pulling me from my inner thoughts and back to reality. Apparently, I didn’t need to see his boots to sense when he was near. His malicious intent was palpable in the air, sticking to him like flies on a carcass. The whole city seemed to go silent, waiting on bated breath for what was about to unfold. My muscles twitched, my subconscious begging my body to move.

“Have you finally decided to let me into this shit hole you call your camp?”

The cocky tone of his voice caused my grip to tighten on the blade I had hidden in my front pocket, the steel biting into my palm. I peered up at him from my crouched position, assessing how close I was willing to let him come. A snarl escaped from my lips, like I was a wild animal.

Jimmy tutted his tongue, completely unfazed by my show of aggression.

“Look at you, waiting outside like a good girl. Are you ready to stop fighting me?” His eyes held a gleam of anticipation, and his tongue poked out, swiping along his chapped lips. I didn’t dare break eye contact, afraid to see the bulge I knew he would have.

“Although, I do love it when they fight,” he added.

He’s disgusting.

My chest heaved, and hatred dripped from my tone as I spat out my response. “Fuck you, Jimmy.”

The smile that appeared on his pocked face made me want to throw up what little food I had in my stomach. It was likely I would only spit up bile since food had been in short supply the past few weeks. All the money I made panhandling, or straight stole, went into buying the blade I was clutching—the blade cutting into my palm with how tightly I was gripping it.

Jimmy started to move toward me, dirty hands reaching down to unclasp his belt. He thought he had me cornered. That the weeks of pursuing me—hunting me—had paid off. Wasn’t it ironic, the supposed hunter failed to see the trap he was stumbling into? Today he was going to be the prey.

“That’s the plan, bitch, to fu—”

I didn’t let him finish his sentence, launching myself up from the crouch I’d been waiting in and ramming the six-inch blade up between his ribs to where his heart was housed.

A startled cry rang out through the alley, sounding like music to my ears.

Poetic justice, fucker.

As soon as my knife was in, I jumped back like I’d been burned, realizing too late I was weaponless. But Jimmy was in shock and too high to try to retaliate. My back and palms pressed against the cold brick wall of the alley, and I watched in rapt fascination as blood began to pool around where my blade was protruding.

Jimmy collapsed on the floor. The color had drained from his face, and his hands were reaching up toward the wound as if attempting to put his blood back into his body. Huffing a humorless laugh, he looked at me from where he lay on the ground, the life already starting to leech from his eyes. El Diablo was coming to collect.

His voice came out a harsh rasp, but the words were clear.

“And so the streets taint another soul. Welcome to the club of killers, kid.”

A physical chill from the truth of those words racked my body—they sounded like a curse spoken out into the universe. I ran, trying to escape the reality of what he had said. But I was stopped short by the sound of clapping coming from the mouth of the alley.

“That wasn’t bad work. Sloppy…but oh so passionate. But I do wonder, how are you planning on hiding your kill? Or did you never get that far, Muñeca?”

In front of me stood a boy who appeared to be my age, seventeen. Eighteen at most. I’d seen him around, but he wasn’t a street kid. His shoes were clean and new, and all his clothes fit him, showing off his athletic build and hints of tanned skin that matched mine. His black hair was cut close on the sides and long on top, perfectly styled. By all accounts, he was handsome, but the look in his brown eyes seemed unhinged. Making warning bells go off in my head. Warning bells I should have heeded.

He apparently didn’t want an answer from me because he kept speaking.

“You know. I think I’ll keep you. I mean, your life can only improve. Look at you.” He gestured up and down my body with his hands. The look on his face told me he thought there was a lot to be desired. “When was your last hot meal? Or shower? I’ll provide for you, Muñeca. All you have to do is come with me.”

My hesitation must have been evident in my eyes because he dropped the sugary sweet tone, exchanging it for a threatening one.