Page 1 of Splitting Secrets
PROLOGUE
Raze
Iknew my life was owned by the Syndicate.
To command. To use. To take.
My father signed off on my soul before I knew what freedom was.
But I didn’t make a single second of it easy on them. I bucked and thrashed against their every command. I gnawed at the chains around my neck and yanked against the short leash they kept me on until they couldn’t tell the difference between my disobedience and my disloyalty.
When they threw their hands in the air and called me a lost cause, I got to work.
Every name voted to be disposed of, as if it was nothing was another soldier in my army. Like my father, they were hardly given a choice when the reaper of the Midnight Syndicate banged his fist against their door.
They could either join the rebellion or die at my hand.
Most joined without hesitation.
Some threatened to expose our efforts. They received the most brutal deaths.
News spread across Nocturne Valley rather quickly. A whisper network was formed.
The Syndicate members were so busy sticking their noses in the air or into affairs much larger than us, they hardly realized an army of ants was marching at their feet.
Fighting for ourselves.
For our children.
For those who came before us and lost.
Until, like a carrot being dangled before me on a string, she came along.
My little walking nightmare.
And I thought, maybe the universe is rewarding me. Maybe I’m not as lost as I thought.
Maybe I deserve somethinggoodfor once.
But the Syndicate laid claim over her, too. Their biggest threat.
Even though she belongs to me.
That was when I decided it was time. We were ready.
And then, I got to work.
1
Raze
“Do you have a moment?” Ashton Payne pops his head through my doorway. He steps inside my office without waiting for me to reply. James Stanson follows closely behind, and my muscles lock up at the sight of them standing beside one another.
The council members of the Syndicate are rarely seen together in public, especially without their anonymous garb. To have two of them standing in my office, casually dressed as if we’re going to lunch, is unheard of. It’s never happened before in the decade I’ve worked for them.
James pulls out one of the chairs across from me and takes a seat without an invitation. Even seated, he commands power.
“We don’t want to take up much of your time,” he begins, glancing over his shoulder at Ashton, who has chosen to remain standing near the door.
