Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)

Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)

London Miller




For H, as usual …



Do not fear death, embrace it. Know that pain is inevitable. Learn to love it.

Kyrnon Murphy





Prologue: An Origin Story





His hands mangled, legs useless, the teenage boy still tried to crawl despite the pain radiating throughout his body, his need to live far outweighing any physical discomfort he felt.

How long had he been in this field, crawling towards a place of freedom that he wasn’t sure was actually out there? After what he had suffered down in the darkness of the cell he had been locked in for what felt like ages, he wasn’t sure what was real anymore. But after barely escaping with his life, the boy had no other choice, not when the wounds on his face were still leaking blood, the metallic taste strong in his mouth as it slid down his throat, even more spilling down his chin and onto the damp grass beneath him.

He was dying, that much was clear.

He could feel it in the way his thoughts jumbled no matter how he concentrated.

How his body refused to cooperate though he was still trying to make his way across the grassy lot, and away from the house of horrors he had just escaped.

But if he were going to die, and he felt like he was one heartbeat away from the inevitable, he was going to do it by his own volition.

The boy would kill himself before he ever gave them the privilege.

He could just see a road in the distance, a car speeding by.

Traitorous hope flared inside him as renewed strength had him crawling faster, his fingers digging into the earth to pull him farther.

But that hope died a quick death when he heard growling, the sharp barks of dogs following soon after.

“It’s going to be a bloody one tonight, boyo,” a man yelled out, laughter following.

The boy could just imagine him, the same man that had forced him to remain in this hell. He would be standing there, arms crossed, his dogs waiting obediently before him, waiting for the quick command that would send them flying across the lot, ready to maim anything in their path.

“I’ll give you a chance—come back on your own and don’t make me send the hounds to drag you back.”

If anything, the man’s words spurred the boy on, renewed strength filling him as he tried crawling faster, his freedom looming ahead.

He could already see it—the moment he made it across the field. Someone—though he couldn’t possibly have known who—would be on the other side, lost in their own little world until they caught sight of him broken and bloody.

They would be horrified, helping him into their car, and driving him to the hospital before calling the police.

He would be safe.

He would be free.

But in this world, where he lived and breathed and fought … well this world wasn’t as kind as his dreams were.

He only made it a few more inches before he could hear the man’s sharp whistle, sending the dogs barreling into the overgrown grass in search of him. And with the way he left a bloody trail from there to where he was positioned currently, it wouldn’t take them long.

For once he didn’t hold his peace.

He screamed for help …

Pleaded for anyone, anywhere to save him …

But only the dogs answered as they appeared out of nowhere, all in defensive stances as though they were readying to attack them.

In a breath, they were on him, sharpened teeth digging into the fragile skin of his body, clamping tight around his ankle as they dragged him back to the very place he longed to escape.

To the place where he knew he would die.





Chapter One





Shit.

It was rare that Amber Lacey got so drunk that she made reckless decisions, but as she rolled over in the four poster bed, her eyes still blurry from sleep, the body beside her let her know immediately that she had messed up. Never mind the piercing headache threatening to split her skull open, or even the nausea churning in her stomach, she was more concerned with the fact that she had slept with her ex-boyfriend rather than the hangover that was going to kick her ass all day—one she rightfully deserved after this.

It also happened to be the same ex-boyfriend that had cheated on her with her cousin, then began dating said cousin right after …

Yeah. She was an idiot.

Not sure whether her need to puke was from the alcohol, or just being in the same bed as Rob, Amber carefully slipped from beneath the covers, frantically searching the floor for her clothes, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

There were two things she had promised herself two years ago when she had found Rob with Piper.

First, no matter how hard it would be, she wouldn’t call her parents for money. At the time, Rob had been helping her out with rent—he said it was his duty as her man—but once he was out of the picture, that was definitely no longer an option. As an art student, there hadn’t been many positions in her field that were very lucrative, at least not right away. And though she was selling some of her own work—had been featured in a couple of shows in galleries around the city even—it wasn’t enough to live on just yet, especially not in a city as expensive as Manhattan.

Luckily for her, her art history professor, Remus Tolbert, had helped her get a position as a curator for a privately owned gallery in the Village. So far, it was everything that she needed to keep the bills paid, even if she wasn’t completely fulfilled.