Pages : 484
ISBN : 9614622000334
Weight : 457g
Dimensions : 127 x 27 x 203 mm

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Prologue

I've always known that one day, my past would catch up with me. That the life I've built, the lies I've told, would come crumbling down. But I never expected it to happen like this.

Family. It all comes down to family. There is nothing you won't do for the people you love, including dying for them. And that's what I'm prepared to do.

They say love of family makes you do crazy things. They have no idea. The things I've done, the lines I've crossed... If people knew, they'd call me a monster. Maybe I am. But when you're protecting the ones you love, morality becomes a luxury you can't afford.

I've lied, I've stolen, I've betrayed. All to keep them safe.

Do I regret it? Sometimes. In those quiet moments when doubt creeps in like a cancer of truth. But then I remember what's at stake, and I know I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

They're coming for me now. I can feel it in my bones. Part of me wants to fight, to claw and scratch and bite until my last breath. But I'm so tired. Tired of pretending, of hiding.

Everything I've done has been for love. Judge me if you must, but understand this: when it comes to family, there are no limits. No lines that can't be crossed. No price too high to pay.

And as the darkness closes in, I find I'm not afraid. Because the choices I have made have been made with my heart. And that's all that matters.

They're here. I can hear them now, their footsteps echoing in the hallway. It's time. Whatever happens next, remember: love is the most dangerous force in the universe.

Chapter 1

The shotgun's double barrels rose into view, and Viv's heart lurched. So much for staying hidden. Her unkempt auburn waves and curvy frame weren't exactly built for stealth.

'Chuffin' 'ell,' she muttered, abandoning her cover behind the sparsely budded Dogwood. A fleeting thought about the origin of 'dogging' crossed her mind but vanished as quickly as it came.

Viv had overheard their heated argument, snippets of threats and pleas carried on the crisp, Scottish spring air, and had stopped to listen when the aggression level demanded her attention. Now, as she barrelled down the path towards the two figures, her brown tweed jacket flapping, her foot caught an empty drinks can and it skittered ahead of her, a makeshift alarm. 'Police! Stop!' she bellowed, her voice carrying more authority than her appearance suggested.

The man with raised hands glanced at Viv, a manic grin spreading across his scarred face as he turned back to the shooter. 'You'd better fucking run, ya prick! Yer mammy cannae save you now.'

'Oh, that's helpful,' Viv said under her breath as she came to a halt, hands raised in front of her, as if that'd stop the blast.

'You're fucked, ya fud! You cannae run fae this!' A maniacal laugh rose from the man with his hands in the air, and Viv stared at him incredulously. Did he want to be shot? The second peel of laughter followed by the deafening boom of the shotgun answered her question.

The savage echo of the weapon's fury hit Viv like a physical force, creating a vacuum that sucked her lungs clean of air and made her ears ring. Blood and tissue arced, seeming to hang, suspended for an eternity, before gravity took hold. An unearthly groan came from the once-leery man's body before it crumpled, folding in on itself in a way that defied nature.

Viv's training kicked in, eyes darting to the shooter. He stood firm, the recoil barely moving his muscular frame. A buff-type scarf covered the lower half of his face, leaving only cold, calculating eyes visible. The acrid smell of gunpowder mixed with the coppery tang of blood. Viv swallowed hard, forcing down the bile rising in her throat. Come on, Viv. You've smelled worse in the station's microwave.

The shooter turned towards her, his stance rigid, eyes narrowed, clearly annoyed by her unexpected appearance. He lowered the gun slightly, not in surrender, but as if reassessing his options. Disarming him was Viv's priority, but how? A pain shot through her right glute as she shifted her weight. It'd been a while since she'd last sprinted. She was no match for him.

A dog's bark shattered the eerie silence. The shooter's head snapped up, a gloved hand tightening on the weapon.

'Finn, quiet,' he growled, his voice muffled by the material.

Viv saw her opening. 'Look, love,' she said, her tone warm yet firm, despite the dire peril of the situation. 'I don't know what's happened here, but we need to talk this through.' She extended her hands, palms open, hoping the tremor in them wasn't visible.

The man didn't move, his gaze locked on Viv. There was no warmth there, no hint of remorse or conflict. Just a cold calculation.

'First, though, I need to check on him.' Viv nodded towards the victim, knowing it was futile, but still. There was a procedure to follow.

'He's dead,' the shooter stated flatly.

'Maybe so, but I still need to check.' With her hands still raised, she took a step towards where the man lay. As she bent down, she saw at close range the damage the gun had inflicted. Despite her gut instinct, she placed two fingers on what little remained of the neck. Mercifully, there was no pulse.

She felt the shooter's intense gaze on her. 'Stand,' he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Viv rose carefully, finding herself face to face with him. Up close, she could see the tightness around his eyes, the slight twitch of the buff as his jaw clenched. This was no impulsive act; he'd come here with a purpose, and she'd interrupted it.

'I'm a detective. Police Scotland,' she said, her voice steady. 'I'm going to reach for my warrant card. I want to show you I can help. Though between you and me, it's seen better days. Much like its owner.'

That was a lie. Her warrant card had only been issued that morning. The shooter gave no reaction, not even a flicker of amusement, his eyes fixed on her, assessing, planning.

'Whatever's happened here, whatever led to this, we can work it out. But I need you to talk to me. Is that your dog?'

He remained silent, his stance unwavering.

'Look why not give me the gun?' Viv said, trying a more direct approach but keeping her voice light. 'We'll sort this out properly.'

'Look after Finn.' The man paused, waiting for Viv to respond, as though this was the final thing he needed to organise. 'Promise.'

'If you give me the gun, then I promise to take care of him.' Viv bargained on the dog as her chip to disarm him. If he cared about the animal enough then it might be just what she needed.

For a moment, the air hung thick with tension. Then a shout broke through.

'What the fuck, man!'

The cry came from Viv's right. A man in dark jeans and a red hoodie stood frozen, hands covering his face.

Viv motioned for him to halt. 'Stay back! I'm a police officer. DI Wylde. We've had enough excitement for one day, so I'm going to ask you to be a good lad and nip back the way you've come.'

She turned her attention back to the shooter, but now instead of the gun being pointed at Viv, he aimed at himself. A look of defiance hardened his eyes.

'No!' Viv screamed, her hands flying out, but it was too late. The second blast tore through the air, shattering what remained of the fragile calm.