Page 8 of Problematic

He sent the list to the screen on my dashboard. I scanned it while the road carried me farther into Hollowside, sun just dipping below the horizon. Small-time lieutenants filled most of the report, along with a few old family names pretending they still meant something.

“We also confirmed that the ward keys used during the Circeville freight attack came through Hollowside,” Vale continued. “Their crews gave the South access to the northern route.”

Fourteen people had died at Circeville. Four of them had reached the nearest shelter and been refused entry because they lacked registered clans. Which was unacceptable. They died against the locked doors.

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

“Scarn’s forces crossed Angelfall six minutes ago,” Vale said. “The South has claimed the checkpoint and the surrounding territories. He broadcast the declaration himself.”

I watched Hollowside’s city glow rise beyond the dark warehouses ahead. Angelfall was the neutral city state that sat between New Abaddon and the southern territories. It was the last true buffer between my people and the brutality of the Southern Lords.

“So the cold war is over.” My words came out slow and measured.

“It appears so.”

“No.” I turned down the street leading toward Broken Halo. “It is over.” The South had crossed a northern border. Hollowside had opened the door for them. Now they had taken our closest bordering neighbor, all within a span of twelve hours.

War had officially begun.

Vale remained quiet for a beat. “They think your attention is spread thin.”

I almost smiled. “Do they?”

“Rumor has it your assassin’s been quiet.”

My assassin . . . I eased the car against the curb two blocks from the club and killed the engine. Eight o’clock. Scarn had been at war with me for less than an hour, and Hollowside was about to become his first expensive mistake. Shadows gathered across the floorboards, curling around my boots as I pulled on my gloves.

“My assassin is never quiet,” I said. “He’s patient.”

“They also say that no one has ever seen his face.” Vale’s amusement came through the comm loud and clear.

“Well, that part is true.”

The gun behind my power. The shadow I sent into the dark when someone forgot who ruled this city. The threat every demon in New Abaddon whispered about when they considered stepping out of line.

He was world renowned, bloody, and efficient.

And he didn’t exist.

That was my secret. You couldn’t track down a man who wasn’t real. You couldn’t kill a monster who only showed you the mask.

There was no assassin.

There was only me.

And I had been bored—up until someone handed Scarn the keys to my territory.

“Do you want them handled personally?” Vale asked.

“What do you think?”

He didn’t pretend to be surprised. “I have their schedules and ward maps. We could clear a path within the week.”

“A week?”

My hands ached. Taking out the trash wasn’t work. It was a sport. Violence was the only time the noise in my head shut off and the ache in my bones eased. My fingers twitched for a throat or a trigger. Either would do.

“We have enough,” I said. “The rest I can improvise.”