Page 1 of Bound By Thorns
PROLOGUE
Logan
SEVEN YEARS AGO
My hands were clammy, my fingers twitching against my sides as I walked the gravel path. Each crunch of my boots against the ground blurred into the static hum of nerves in my head. The instructions had been clear—Logan Carlton, commanded to be present at this nondescript location.Unarmed.
UNKNOWN: Gunner 578, confirm presence at Delta-37 by 2200 hours. No delays. Verify clearance upon arrival. Arrive unarmed.
The text glared back at me from the screen, my CIA emergency callout front and center. The one nobody should have access to except my direct superiors. This wasn’t a mistake or some cruel joke. Whoever sent it wanted me here. I had half a mind to loop in Zarek or Dylan, but something told me they wouldn’t have the answers either.
I followed the coordinates, my steps slowing as I approached a massive, abandoned building on the outskirts of D.C. Its crumbling exterior loomed against the night sky.
How do they even know I was in the capital? Unless… it really was the CIA.
A heavy sigh escaped me, a mix of frustration and unease curling in my chest. I was either walking into my death or something equally terrifying. Either way, I couldn’t turn back. As I stepped inside, my instincts took over, and my hand moved to where my gun would’ve been holstered.
Unarmed.
Fuck!
The interior was as lifeless as the outside—empty halls, peeling paint, silence broken only by a faint buzzing sound from somewhere deep within. Moonlight filtered through the broken windows, casting pale streaks across the floor that faded the farther I went. At the end of the hallway stood a pair of ominous double doors, warped and peeling with time.
I approached with silent precision, every muscle coiled tight. But apparently, not silent enough.
The faint sound of someone clearing their throat made me whirl around, my pulse spiking. A man stood there, dressed head to toe in black, his face unreadable. But I didn’t need to see his face to know who he was.
Arden Mercer.
My Commanding Officer.
“Boss,” I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders loosening slightly, though my voice still echoed against the barren walls.
“Elevator, Carlton,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the quiet. “Negative four.”
I didn’t hesitate. Following his lead, I found the elevator and stepped inside. The door groaned shut, and with a jolt, I began my descent—four floors down into God knows what.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped into what felt like an entirely different world. Gone was the eerie emptiness of the upper floors; down here, the hum of voices and the faint shuffleof movement echoed off the walls, signaling the presence of a sizeable crowd.
I scanned the room quickly. Officers were scattered throughout—some familiar faces, others complete strangers. My eyes barely had time to register them when a sharp voice cut through the noise.
“Gunner!”
I turned and locked eyes with Zarek. Relief washed over me at the sight of someone I actually knew.
“What the fuck is this about?” he grumbled, his annoyance plain as day.
I chuckled despite the tension in the air. “Missing bedtime, Ghost?”
He smirked—just a quirk of his lips—but it was enough to soften the edges of the moment. He clapped a hand on my shoulder and led the way toward a quieter corner of the room, where Dylan greeted me with a quick, firm hug. My focus, however, was elsewhere, bouncing between the faces in the crowd. It was clear none of them had any clue what we were all doing here either.
The murmur of voices dropped slightly as more people trickled in, and two uniformed officers entered the room. They strode in like they owned the place, their pristine guns gleaming in their holsters.
Fuck them.
“So, we’re unarmed,” I muttered to Zarek under my breath, “but they get to walk around with shiny toys?”
“Focus,” he growled, his tone sharp enough to shut me up—for now.
