Fearless Lauren Roberts PDF
PROLOGUE
There are very few reasons for a meeting between two cloaked gures in the
dead of night.
Unsurprisingly, the list is as short as it is unseemly.
For some, it is love. For most, it is lust.
Lust for money. Lust for purpose. Lust for revenge.
But in some cases, it is love that rst spurs these lusts. Or rather, the loss of it.
Though these odd contradictories are rare, they are consistently tragic.
A man leans against the wall, his stoic expression swallowed beneath the gaping
hood.
It’s been several minutes now, though the sudden wave of impatience seems
to sneak up on him. Every wary glance begins to weigh heavily atop his cloaked
shoulders. Because buried deep beneath that hood is a mind that screams at him
to go through with this, persistently drowning out a much gentler, coaxing voice
that tells him to walk away, a voice that makes him ache. Still, he leans heavier
against the wall, as if to anchor himself to this moment, this decision, before
inevitably sinking with the consequences of it.
Moonlight slips between the slivers of crumbling stone surrounding the
alleyway. It makes him uneasy for some unexplainable reason, as though the pale
ngers are clawing their way toward him.
Yes, he much prefers the sun to its eerie opposite.
The cloaked gure straightens suddenly at the sight of a shadow slinking
closer. It stops before him, morphing into something far more tangible, mortal.
They stand, assumably, eye to eye, though their hoods shroud any hint of an
identifying feature.
“Do you know what you have to do?”
This second shadowy gure speaks like gold, rich and soft. He has the
practiced ability to spin words into something far prettier than the meaning
behind them.
“To an extent,” returns the rst man. His worn boots shift atop the crooked
cobblestones, mind still screaming over that soft voice telling him to run away
from this damning decision.
“Very good.” The second shadow shoves a hand into his pocket. “I’m trusting
you won’t disappoint.”
“I can’t make any promises.”
Pulling the hand from his cloak, the man presents a hefty coin purse to the
cool air. “This should be enough to ensure you make this worth everyone’s
while.”
The rst man reaches for the pouch, swallowing at the sheer weight of silvers
within. “Yes, this should do.”
“Now”—the gure lowers his voice—“it needs to look real, understand?
Make me believe you.”
The rst man’s voice is low. “I will.”
The battle within his mind roars louder still. But he has learned to ignore the
constant din of chaos, just as he does now. Because nothing can save him from
this fate. Not even that persuasive, gentle voice.
With a curt nod of his hooded head, the stranger begins that silent slip into a
swarm of shadows.
“Why do you want this?”
Curiosity has the conicted gure blurting the question. Awaiting an answer,
he clutches the pouch against his chest, treasuring the feel of tangible security.
The shadows, shifty as ever and eager to eavesdrop, seem to lean in.
A soft string of words over a shoulder is all the man oers. “Every brutal act is
born of love.”
That understanding alone draws together even the most unlikely of allies.
Even hooded and shrouded in shadows, these two strangers have never felt so
seen.
OceanofPDF.com
