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PROLOGUE

UNKNOWN

Alone car whizzed past, tires splashing along the wet street, making me dip farther into the shadows to stay hidden from any curious eyes. A block over, a car alarm blared, amping up my nerves as I hurried along the sidewalk, heart hammering in my chest with each quick breath. Shadows shifted across the street as transients and homeless searched covered alcoves for a place to rest for what remained of the soggy night. At well past two in the morning, it was only me and them out in this area of town, those with a home or not hiding in the shadows tucked in their warm beds.

Water soaked through the worn soles of the thrift store tennis shoes from the shallow puddles along the sidewalk. The oversized, thick coat I’d scored at Goodwill not only helped me blend in with the others wandering the street but warded off the chilled breeze that carried the hint of salt and sand. The Santa Coasta nights turned cool, all the blissful warmth from the day gone the moment the sun dipped beneath the horizon, and tonight was no different.

My lungs were tight, each quick breath like inhaling shards of glass instead of air. Every sound had me jerking like the addict I’d passed two blocks back. Even the buzz of the lamps was too loud, the soft glow too bright for someone hyped on anxiety and nerves. Gripping the ball cap bill, I wiggled it lower on my brow and kept my face downturned toward the crumbling sidewalk, only chancing a look over my shoulder when the urge became too insistent to resist.

Like now. The distinct sound of heavy wheezing breaths, the splash of a step in a shallow puddle—all too close for my nerves to not demand I check who followed me on the otherwise empty street.

Unable to fight the urge, I shot a quick glance over my shoulder, scanning the shadows only to find a slim frame several feet behind me but gaining ground. The person weaved in and out of the circles of light cast by the few working lampposts.

Movement tight, I jerked back around, a lump forming in my throat making it difficult to swallow as I picked up my already-quick pace.

An angry bark down the alley I’d just passed had me swallowing a startled curse, my steps stumbling. Choking down the rising fear threatening to suffocate me right here on the sidewalk, I shifted to a slow jog, hurrying toward the next alley and slipping around the corner, the rough edge of the brick catching on my coat sleeve, ripping the worn material. Not until the darkness concealed my hiding spot did I pause, leaning back against the building for support. Fingers trembling, sweaty palm wrapped around the knife’s cheap plastic hilt, I slid the weapon free of its sheath.

Blood thundered in my ears as I waited. A deep inhale whistled through my clenched teeth over and over as I attempted to calm my racing heart. The faint sound of approaching steps had me widening my stance, prepared to fight the person following me. Muscles tensed and ready, I watched a hunched figure, mumbling incoherent words to no one I could see, pass by the alley, not pausing or looking my way once.

The held breath burning my lungs blew past my dry lips as I slumped against the hot brick.

Thirty seconds.

That was all I could afford to calm the hell down and get my shit together enough to keep going. I couldn’t freeze, not now. I had to keep moving.

At the thirty-second mark, I placed both hands on the brick and shoved off, forcing myself out of my hiding spot and back onto the sidewalk.

Four more blocks. Four blocks and I would be safe. The night would be over.

I needed to keep moving.

The motel’s half-lit neon sign blinked in dismal welcoming when I rounded the corner, causing me to pick up the pace. Cautious that others might be watching from the various windows despite the hour, I rounded both shoulders, ensuring anyone looking couldn’t positively identify my height, and fluffed out the jacket to give my frame a bulkier appearance. Halfway across the crumbling parking lot, I slid my hand into the deep pocket of my loose pants. My heart rate slowed as my fingers wrapped around the cheap plastic key ring, assuring myself it was still there as I weaved around the motel’s cameras, having reviewed the layout first thing earlier in the day.

I planned tonight down to the second, and so far, everything had gone according to plan.

But I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

It took two tries to get the metal key into the lock. The loud thud of the door closing behind me rattled through the room. With the lock engaged and a cheap plastic chair shoved beneath the door handle, I allowed myself to take the first full breath since setting out on tonight’s mission. Hands by my side, I stood in the middle of the room, listening to the faint sounds of a couple fighting nearby mixed with the normal grunts and moans of what went on in these pay-by-the-hour places.

What I didn’t hear or see through the break in the curtains covering the front window had a knowing smirk tugging at my thin lips.

No police sirens cut through the night.

No red and flashing blue lights flickered in the parking lot.

A relieved sigh brushed across my dry lips as I forced my tense muscles to relax, the adrenaline from the night’s events slowly draining away, leaving me exhausted yet sated, knowing I did what had to be done. From the moment I’d left home earlier, knowing exactly what tonight would bring, my frayed nerves kept me from taking a full breath. The weeks of watching, waiting, and diligently planning the perfect moment were the easiest part of all this. It was nights like tonight, when my targets found true justice for their past crimes, that were equally exhilarating and terrifying.

Though not nearly as horrifying as that first time. Unprepared, startled by the anger and fear coursing through my veins, the knife had trembled in my hand, making the wounds sloppy.

Nothing like they were now.

Deep. Calculated. Deadly.

Each strike of my blade ensuring maximum pain for the sick bastard unlucky enough to be on my radar and a very slow death as they bled out with me watching.

The pain was exactly what they deserved.

Becoming a serial killer wasn’t a top career choice, but things happened, fate changed the course of my future, and here I was. Alone, covered in blood that wasn’t my own, and smiling into the dark. Though unlike other multi-victim killers, I wasn’t a psychopath, narcissist, or insane.

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