Page 6 of Bleeding Outside the Lines

“So, she pulls pranks before she kills? Like a child? I thought this woman was supposed to be sophisticated?”

“She does and she is. It seems like she plays with her kills before she strikes, kind of like a cat does with a mouse. She wants them to know she’s been there, wants them to know she could’ve already killed them. She wants her mouse to be scared and jumpy. Then she slits their throats and kisses them on the cheek.”

“So that explains the letter, the kiss of death, the phone call, and then the alarms at my house tonight.”

“Wait, she called you?”

“Yeah, to gloat about killing me. I told her I would kill her first, then hung up.”

“Cass, you didn’t?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“I did. G, how’d she get into my network? How’d she get into both my home and my club networks?”

He takes a deep breath, clearly concerned but not surprised with my reaction to this entire mess.

“Her Garrett is good, but I’m better. She hacked you, and for that I apologize. I’ll fix it so it can’t happen again. But Cass, I suggest we leave them be.”

“Just let them have access to my security systems? Are you out of your mind?”

“Listen man, this woman is a ghost. How are you going to find her and kill her before she kills you if you don’t know a thing about her? I suggest we piggyback on her hack and track her movements in your system. That way, you’ll know a little about what she’s up to. You know she’s got cameras that cover every inch of your house?”

Of course she fucking does. Which means I need to keep my poker face even at home.

Fucking hell.

four

The early morning airis heavy with fog. It lingers over the expansive grounds, ominous in its own right. I walk quickly, my boots disappearing in the grounded clouds and reappearing every few steps when they dissipate. Shivering, I pull my sweater tighter around me. The barn sits about five hundred yards from the main house. You can’t see it from the driveway, and it doesn’t show up on the internet or GPS. It does not exist to the world, even as large as it is. From the outside, it looks like your stereotypical barn, right down to the peeling red paint in desperate need of repair. It even has white boards in the shape of an X on the large doors. At the smaller entry door on the right, I hold my wrist to the scanner. The red laser casts over my skin and beeps when it finds the chip, unlocking the door.

I enter the barn and walk along the path at the edge of the room, careful not to step onto the training floor with my outside shoes. It’s empty, the room pristine, having not yet been touched this morning. Throwing knives glisten on a stand in the corner, a mannequin with more holes than a pin cushion standsopposite, and combat dummies fill one wall, waiting for their daily beating.

I follow the sound of voices up the stairs, past the dormitory wing and showers, to our meeting room. The murmurs quiet when I enter. It is not as much a meeting room as it is a sanctuary. This entire compound is a sanctuary. We’re not a typical company, and therefore the meeting space is not typical. The room has been designed to be relaxing, full of lush pieces of furniture, warm soft throws, and an absurd number of pillows. Comforts that many of the girls and women who pass this threshold are not familiar with.

We are an army of misfits, and I am the queen of this kingdom. Like Legion, we are many. We exist everywhere and nowhere. Across the globe and back again. An empire ruled by queens and forged from death. Framed photos of my predecessors line the wall behind me. Someday my face will join them, and a new Ruby will take the throne, but for now I rule this Kingdom of Loyal Reds. It is not for the faint of heart, being queen. It takes a killer. And killing is what I do best.

Each kingdom serves a purpose, ours is to train the next generation of Reds. From here they are dispatched to other kingdoms, to serve under other Rubys. We recruit girls who come from similar backgrounds to our own. We are the abused, the broken, and the neglected. Our childhoods could haunt the devil himself. There are currently six recruits, girls ranging in age from six to fourteen. Occasionally we require their service prior to them becoming full-fledged Reds, but for the most part they only train until one of us retires or dies. Except for me.

My replacement must be chosen by me. And I have not yet selected. None of our recruits have skills comparable to my own yet. I was twelve when my predecessor named me as her successor. I could walk into a crowded room and slit a man’s throat without anyone seeing a thing. Replacing me will be hard,and I make a mental note to start actively searching for a new Ruby. I can’t live forever. Even the best die.

I take my place in the oversized chair in the front of the room. Instantly, I’m enveloped in the soft red velvet. The high back sits well above my head, a black iron crown adorning it. I used to love this throne. I would leave our meetings with a high that could only be rivaled by slaughtering a poor soul, but that high has been missing for months, replaced with unease.

Crossing her legs like a young girl, Rowan takes the seat next to me and presses a button on her tablet. An LED screen descends from the ceiling at the side of the room.

“Good morning, Loyal Reds,” I begin. “Girls, your objective during this meeting, like in the last five meetings is to tie this ribbon,” I raise the red satin in my hand, holding it out toward the young girls, “in a Red’s hair without being caught. If you succeed, we will start our knife training. If you fail, we will continue our stealth and teamwork modules until you successfully pass this objective.”

The youngest girl steps forward to retrieve the ribbon. Her steps are sure, her posture ready for battle. I offer her a smile, which she returns with a toothless grin of her own before resuming her position along the wall.

“Okay, let’s begin. Unfortunately, we do not have a lot of time this morning as I have a high court meeting shortly.” I am greeted with nods from around the room. There are nine Reds including myself in our Kingdom. We work well together, each with our own strengths. One of them has a medical degree, another designs our disguises. We all have a job here.

I gesture to Riley to begin as always.

She stands, bringing herself to her full height. Riley towers over most men, which draws attention. Because of this and her nurturing nature, she plays the role of housemother. She takes care of us. She keeps us fed, keeps us in clean clothes, and keepsthe girls under her strict gaze. Her strength though is grifting. It is from her that the girls learn how to play their roles.

“The girls are making progress. Their table manners and social cues are in excellent shape, but we continue to work on body language and accents. We have been working on multiple things at once, and I think it’s been a bit confusing for this group.” She smiles warmly at the girls, and I am reminded why she is perfect for this role. The rest of us would have simply pushed them harder. “I would like to break it into one role at a time and see if we can master one before moving on to another. Is there one in particular you want them to start with?” She looks pointedly at me, waiting for my instruction.

I shift my gaze to the girls and try to remember their backgrounds. I know at least one of them has been sexually abused, and another, the eldest I think, survived the massacre of her family by playing dead. I have to tread carefully. So often our minds still require mending long after the physical wounds have healed.

“Let’s go with Amelia.” She’s the one that saved me when I needed it most, maybe she will save one of them too.

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