Page 1 of Seek Me Darling

Prologue

Somepeoplefearthedarkness.

Me? I welcome it.

Not the night. Not the absence of light. I’m talking about the kind of darkness that lives inside you—the kind that curls around your spine and whispers sweet nothings when you’re thinking things that wouldn’t normally be acceptable in society. The kind that doesn’t beg to be tamed, but instead demands to be fed.

Most people spend their lives pretending it doesn’t exist. I don’t have that luxury. I never did.

My name is Seanna Darling, daughter of the infamous Agent Alexandra Darling and her two obsessively devoted husbands. Sister to the golden girl, Detective Hydessa Darling. Everyone always assumed I’d follow in my mother’s footsteps—become the next profiler prodigy or head up some elite task force of my own.

And sure, I work with the DEA. I have my own team. I hunt monsters. I dismantle cartels. But I don’t do it to be the hero. I do it because I understand what lives in the dark. Because I am not afraid to go there. Because sometimes, to take down the worst of them, you have to become something worse.

Others flinch at the horror of murder scenes, at the blood and broken bodies. I lean in closer. I examine the angles and look for the artistry. And if that makes me fucked up? Good. Let them think I’m unhinged. If they can’t handle the storm I bring, they should stay the fuck out of my path.

My family is made up of legends, warriors, and shadows. Mom walks through crime scenes like a ghost of judgment, unraveling motives with a single glance. Hydessa chases justice like it owes her a debt, chasing truth through the ruins of her own restraint. And me?

I don’t chase, I lure. I go where the monsters live and I walk into the fire without flinching. Because deep down, I am just as twisted as the men I hunt—I’ve just chosen a different outlet. A different target. A different set of rules.

The world taught me early on that monsters don’t always hide under the bed. Sometimes, they sit in the boardroom. Sometimes, they run billion-dollar drug empires. Sometimes, they stare back at you in the mirror and dare you to blink first.

I didn’t become this way on accident. I became this way because I had to.

Growing up in the Darling household meant survival was never just a metaphor. It was drilled into our bones between target practice and coded language lessons. We were never told fairy tales. We were told facts. The world is cruel. The system is broken. And sometimes, justice doesn’t come with a badge—it comes with blood.

My sister still believes in things like purpose, and fate, and maybe even love. Me? I stopped waiting for love a long time ago. If someone ever wants me, they’ll have to be as obsessed with me as my dads are with my mom. They’ll have to crave every broken piece of me—and sharpen their edges just to keep up. Because I won’t play nice. I won’t soften for anyone. I won’t shrink to make someone else comfortable.

I know who I am. I’m the storm, the fire, the razor-sharp edge. I’m the woman who doesn’t just stare into the abyss— I make it beg for mercy.

So go ahead. Seek me, darling. But be warned: once you find me, there’s no coming back.

Chapter 1

Seanna

Menareonlygoodfor one thing. Okay, maybe two—if their aim doesn’t completely suck. Which, let's be honest, it usually does.

I watch the faint, unmistakable red dot lazily trace patterns across the chest of Diego Alvarez—mid-level cartel trash who clearly thinks he's hot shit because his boss tossed him out here as a sacrificial lamb. Poor bastard doesn't even realize he's already screwed. He's too busy stripping me naked with his eyes, probably deciding whether I'm his next big mistake or his future fantasy girl. Spoiler alert: I'm absolutely both.

I lean casually against the hood of the sleek black SUV parked smack in the middle of this god-awful parking garage—a charming spot filled with rust-stained concrete, oil-slick floors, and a potent bouquet of piss, mold, and despair. Romantic, right? Honestly, I couldn't have picked a better place to watch Diego squirm.

Beside me, Eli and Jensen are doing their best "bored muscle" impersonations. Eli's dark hair falls carelessly around a smirk that promises trouble, while Jensen stands like a human brick wall, inked arms crossed loosely, somehow looking both bored and murder-ready. They might fool Diego, but I know better—they're wolves just waiting for the chance to rip someone apart.

Matteo’s hidden somewhere above, watching quietly from his sniper perch. He's exactly the type I trust—silent, precise, and capable of turning someone's head into confetti at a moment's notice. I bet he's up there right now, mentally laughing his ass off at the disaster unfolding below.

A few other agents are stationed close by, silent and ready to move if things go sideways.

“I already told you, sweetheart,” I drawl lazily, voice dripping honey-coated venom. “I’m here for business. But blind dates aren’t my style. If I'm dropping serious cash, I expect to see your boss face-to-face. Got it?”

Diego’s jaw tightens. Good. Angry men fuck up fast, and I don't have all night.

“The boss doesn’t waste his time with random bitches flashing cash,” he snarls, puffing his chest like he’s auditioning for alpha asshole of the year.

Internally, I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. Typical macho bullshit. “Cute. You really think real threats come with a resume and a fucking billboard? Honey, your intel sucks harder than your fashion sense. Less posturing, more research next time.”

His nostrils flare like an irritated bull, fingers twitching nervously toward his jacket. Bingo. God, men are predictable.

“You’re asking too much,” Diego growls, eyes darting between me, Eli, and Jensen. “How do I know you aren't some cop bitch playing games?”

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