Chapter 1

Gray

The militia woman’s skull slammed into the hardened earth, bone crunching upon impact. Yet, she didn’t relent in her fight. I straddled her bucking hips from behind, her legs thrashing beneath me and fists swinging in desperation at my face to no avail.

I adjusted my position, pinning her pelvis to the ground while digging my knees into her sides as I reached for my dagger. I usually avoided fighting humans, but she’d recognized me and attacked. She needed to be contained before she blew my cover and mission.

The woman’s head swiveled to the side, searching for the gun I’d dislodged from her moments ago. I spotted it several feet away, a chuckle bubbling from my chest. “I don’t know why you humans insist on using guns against us,” I said, her body stilling as I pressed the edge of the dagger to her throat. “You know they’re useless against our kind. We’ll just heal from it in a matter of minutes.” Once the bullet was removed, that was.

Her upper lip peeled back from her teeth as defiance shone in her eyes. “So you think,” she spat. It was her turn to chuckle, “Don’t think for a second I don’t know who you are.” My dagger bobbed and nicked the delicate skin, a trickle of dark liquid seeping from beneath the blade. “You think just because you hide your Kinetic nature, you go unseen, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re evil on the inside. Your kind needs to be eradicated.” She glanced down at the silver bracelet donning my wrist, letting on to the fact she was aware of my glamour.

“You’re angry with the wrong side. It was the Elementals that…”

“Bullshit! Your kind destroyed everything,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “And when I inform the speakeasy below of your presence, you’ll be dead before you ever set foot…”

No.

I jerked my blade across her throat, a deep gash on her trachea that silenced her threat. “Can’t let you do that,” I huffed and sat back, the lead weight of guilt instantly dropping from my chest to my core.

I rolled the limp corpse over onto her back; arms clad in military camo plopped to the ground with a thud. The tall grass of the open field would obscure her body for only a brief time. The human rebel’s glazed eyes stared into the starless night as dark crimson cascaded from the gaping line slashed across her throat.

Despite the cloudy sky, the moon cast its illuminating glow, providing just a sliver of light in this bleak world. A chilled breeze sent a shiver down my spine as the seasons transitioned between the rigorous summer months into autumn, blowing ice-blonde strands of my hair into my eye.

I rummaged through her weapons belt, searching for any human weapon or ammunition to trade. A loaded magazine clip belonging to the woman’s pistol reflected off the moonlight in my fist before I shoved it into my weapons belt. Three feet away lay the fallen gun where the barrel dug into the soil. I checked the safety and forced it tightly into my belt.

Why did she believe that attacking me was a good decision? It wasn’t like the poor woman stood a chance against my training anyways.

Crouching beside the woman’s head, I brushed her eyelids closed with my fingertips, her dark lashes resting against her sunbaked skin. “Consider yourself one of the lucky ones who gets to leave this hellhole,” I murmured more to myself, my head drooping forward. Instinctively, I clutched the black stone hanging from the leather strap around my neck to bring me comfort.

I breathed in the crisp air scented with nature’s decay. It soothed my lungs and eased the tension a fraction, enough to lighten the burden in my chest.

I peered at the dead woman again. Except when I laid my eyes upon her corpse, I no longer saw the human rebel. Instead, I envisioned Slate’s dark, ashy hair and lifeless hazel eyes. Grief at his loss slithered around my heart and squeezed.

A ringing sang in my ears, sounding the alarm of impending emotion threatening to pull me under again. I clenched my jaw until it ached, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. Crying was weak. Emotions were dangerous. I worked to shut them down, just as I’d been trained to do my entire life.

I blew out a breath, forcing my mind back to the task at hand. To kill the man who was not only responsible for the collapse of modern society but also for Slate’s death. I let the anger simmer and burn into a furious inferno, gearing me up for the hit of a lifetime. The only hit that mattered in more ways than one.

This mission wasn’t just an assignment; it was my own personal vendetta against the man who took away the only light I had in my life. Slate had been my rock, my anchor—a reminder to turn the hatred I received from my people into a strength.

And Griffin Silas robbed me of that, leaving behind a hardened princess assassin in his wake.

Hating every second of it, I began to strip the woman of her faded military fatigues, swapping out my black leather gear for hers instead. I strapped my weapons belt underneath the loose uniform to hide it from view while managing to stash a few Kinetic knives and daggers in the pockets and up the sleeve.

The silver magnetic bracelet engraved with intricate Kinetic sigils suppressed my magic, as well as the luminescent blue currents that usually raced up and down my arms and neck. I effectively appeared human.

The glamour concealed my dual-toned, black-and-white waves that were marbled together to appear gray, earning my name. It was a Kinetic custom that no one escaped. Unsurprisingly, my father couldn’t have cared enough to give me one of the more creative names among our people.

After double-checking that my bracelet was intact and my glamour was in place, I rose, turning away from the nearly naked corpse at my feet. I couldn’t fail. Too much was at stake. Despite the fact I bore twenty-four kill marks on my arms, this was Griffin Silas—the ruthless and cunning Elemental prince. The man who ignited the war between our two races nine years ago by infiltrating the King’s Palace and murdering many of our top Kinetic warriors. He blamed the Kinetics for the deaths of his parents. In his quest for misguided retribution, he sparked a war that led to the demise of modern society only a few years later, known to everyone as Devolution Day.

The most notable death on the day of his insurgence was our legendary Chrome Freyr. He was the only person with at least twice as many Elemental kill marks than me. He had been considered infallible. Our beloved hero’s death was almost enough to declare war.

Many Kinetic assassins have tried and failed to kill Griffin, all falling prey to the same fate: death. Now, it was my turn. It wasn’t solely vengeance I sought. If I killed Griffin, maybe, just maybe, I could earn my father’s respect.

The king’s parting words echoed in my mind as I cut through the field, getting used to the feel of the loose military fatigues instead of the tight black leather. “If you return and he is not dead, there will be consequences of the likes to which you’ve yet to experience, child.”

Memories of the ricocheting pain in my skull from his fists had a knot forming in my stomach. I hated him. And I hated that I wanted to make him proud. But for now, we shared a common goal: Griffin’s death.

I couldn’t fail.

Mounted in its ironic glory before me stood a wooden cross in an abandoned farm field, marking an underground bar. I observed the hand-crafted structure and the ground it sat in, reminding me of the days when cars worked, and crosses signified the crash site of a loved one.

Rounding the bereft cross, I stood off to the side, careful not to stand on the door. I pushed it several feet to the right, watching as the earth opened beneath me, revealing a set of wooden stairs.

Leading up to the world’s collapse, during the height of the Elemental and Kinetic war, humans went into prep mode, bracing for the apocalypse they had long since feared.

Underground homes and bartering businesses were constructed. But the most common were the speakeasies, where the humans gathered to drink moonshine and unwind.

They also were told to be Griffin’s favorite haunts.

I descended a few of the warped steps into the tight vertical tunnel. It left me in a dank void. The wooden stairs were attached to the somehow sturdy concrete walls.

Thankfully, with our heightened vision, I could see through the pitch-blackness. Not even the magnetic magic-inhibiting bracelet could suppress that trait.

The makeshift stairwell dropped at least twenty-five feet into the earth, the air growing thicker the further down I went, with the musty scent of Georgia red clay permeating the confined space. Once I landed at the bottom, ventilated air from the pipe system the humans had built filled my lungs.

Muffled laughter and raucous voices sounded from the other side of the wall. I followed the tunnel leading to the speakeasy’s entrance.

Reaching the end of the tunnel, I pulled open the thick, weighty door made of unpolished wood. The speakeasy held an old rustic vibe reminiscent of the 1920s. With no electricity due to the powerful EMP strike five years ago on Devolution Day, candles and lanterns provided the light source. It was what I imagined an old pirate tavern would have looked like.

I searched for my formidable target through the mass of men and women crowded around makeshift tables, gathering in a jovial nature that I envied. The humans were in high spirits tonight as they decompressed from life topside.

My attention landed on a man in tattered jeans and a grungy tee playing an upbeat pop song on a beaten guitar before catching on a cloaked figure sitting in a rear corner. His back was to me, facing the wooden barrels that lined the backside of the U-shaped bar. Cases upon cases of colorful moonshine in glass jars lined the stone wall on wooden crates.

Most of the patrons in the establishment were disheveled like the guitar player. But standing out amongst the unkempt, militia rebels could be seen mingling with the rest, dressed in faded and stained military fatigues.

Blending in as a rebel, I walked to the bar toward the back of the speakeasy, squeezing past drunken couples before raising a casual hand to snag the runner’s attention. From the opposite end of the bar, he acknowledged me with an upward tilt of his head, making his way toward me. He tossed a dingy rag over his shoulder and wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm. “How can I help ya?”

Leaning on the unlacquered bartop with my forearms, I smiled. “Whatever you got.”

The speakeasy runner didn’t try to hide his roaming eyes. I wasn’t sure how he could check out a woman in this baggy uniform, but he seemed pleased with what he saw. He nodded, walked to the crates nailed into the wall, and reached up, grabbing a glass jar filled with blue moonshine.

When he returned, he set it down and sighed. Scratching his thick beard, he asked, “I hate to do this, but what’s the trade, darlin’?”

Summoning my inner femininity, I shook my head and waved him off. “Oh, of course.” I pulled the loaded magazine clip and pistol from the holster at my waist. “Will this do?”

The speakeasy runner’s eyes widened. “That’s a hefty price for some ‘shine. The magazine will do just fine, sweetheart.” Having no use for a fucking gun, I shook my head. “No, I insist. It’s the least I can do,” I said innocently, sliding the pistol and clip across the bar. “I can always get another one at the compound,” I said with a shrug.

The runner looked skeptical, but he relented. “I owe you another drink then.” As tempting as that was, I declined. My only aim here was to find Griffin and kill him, not get lit off moonshine. “Just one is fine. Thank you, though…um, I don’t think I caught your name?” I replied with a forced aura of flirtation.

“Jensen.” He held out his hand and offered a smile.

I closed my fingers over his rough palm. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “This place yours?”

With a nod, he answered, “It is. My parents had it built before Devolution Day. When they died, it became mine.” Jensen busied himself behind the bar, putting away the gun and magazine clip underneath the counter. In this world, humans could never have too many weapons.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” I said, studying my laced fingers on the bar before pulling back and taking a sip of my drink. The alcohol content was strong enough to make one breathe fire.

Jensen shrugged. “It happened on Devolution Day. They were on a flight.”

“Fuck,” I whispered over the rim of my Mason jar before taking another sip. I’d grown accustomed to the harsh burn the past five years, seeing as there wasn’t much variety in alcoholic drinks these days.

After Devolution Day, bootleg moonshiners created a booming business for themselves. They thrived in their trade as well as the farmers. While beer and other liquors were made, moonshine became the most prominent alcoholic drink in our post-modern era.

Jensen wiped down the bar and met my eyes. “Let me know if you need anything, ya hear?”

I nodded. “Thanks, Jensen. See you around.” With a small smile, I pushed away from the bar, taking my drink with me and weaving through the crowd in the direction of the man cloaked in darkness in the corner.

Griffin.

As an assassin, I could be swift, discreet—in and out before anyone knew they had a dead body in the speakeasy and pieced together that I was the culprit. The majority of humans tended to their business anyway, paying me no mind as I pushed through.

The cold glass in my hand would be in the way; I knew I needed to ditch it. I got it solely to maintain the façade I was part of the human militia. I couldn’t afford a misstep that would make me stand out in a negative way. Hopefully, getting rid of it wouldn’t raise any suspicion.

A man sitting on a tall wooden barrel eyed me as I approached. I stopped at the table and mustered a genuine smile, offering the strong drink to him. “I’m not feeling too great. You want this?” I asked, channeling that nauseating feminine charm to produce a sweet smile.

With a suspicious furrow of his brow, he studied the drink. “What’s the trade?”

“No trade. I just don’t want it. Can’t bring myself to waste it either.”

After giving it a sniff, contemplating whether it was contaminated, he must’ve decided the risk was worth it because he eventually shrugged and held his hand out. I gave the Mason jar to him with a nod, to which he returned, and set my sights back on the lone figure in the corner.

After tailing him for three weeks, I could identify him anywhere, especially as he stood out in the room of unkempt humans in his black pixie-style cloak. Even relaxed and slouched over the table, he still held a swagger in his shoulders that showed he wasn’t concerned about being surrounded by militia members.

Maneuvering around another couple, I eased my boots along the planked floor as I came within inches from Griffin’s lean back. The black hood draped over his raven locks, only a few strands dangling around his jawline. He tilted his head back to take a sip of his drink. I was astounded by his arrogance.

I seized the chance to take advantage of his exposed throat. Slipping a knife from my sleeve, I quickly wrapped my left arm around his shoulder from behind, pressing the blade against his trachea. Griffin Silas’s throat bobbed. I pushed harder.

Not seeming bothered by the threat, he angled his head to look over his right shoulder. As he met my eyes, a thin trail of blood slid down his throat. My breath hitched at the unexpected beauty of the merciless killer in my grasp. I’d seen plenty of photos of the prince taken prior to Devolution Day as he became the most wanted being in living history. But he’d been younger, and seeing him this close, with his Elemental gilded skin that reflected the warm glow in the speakeasy, I hesitated.

Holy shit, he was fucking ethereal.

I stood captivated by his beauty and stunned by a familiarity emanating from him like an itch I couldn’t scratch that went deeper than simply recognizing his face. Silver irises that swirled like molten metal gave him a sense of other, drawing me in. The gold was deceptively beautiful, meant to lure you in before the Elemental depleted your soul’s energy. That was my theory, anyway.

An excited gleam sparkled in his abnormal eyes, an unhinged grin accompanying it. “Come on out, little savage,” he said in a husky baritone. “I wanna see you play.”

I snapped out of my initial shock, poised to slice a deep line across his throat. Lighting fast, his hand shot out and gripped my gloved wrist, stopping me. “Princess Gray,” he drawled. “I’ve been wondering when you’d make your move.”

Cold fear seized me as its hostage. “You’ve known I’ve been following you?”

Griffin laughed, showcasing his straight, white teeth. “I’ve quite enjoyed your distant company.” With a jolt, he pivoted out of the chair so fast it knocked over, then shoved my back against the wall. Pressing his front against mine with his knee between my thighs, he pinned my hands to the wall above me, the knife still clutched in my fist.

Griffin leaned in to where his breath caressed the shell of my ear and whispered, “I thought you wanted to play, little princess.”

My heart felt like it wanted to beat out my chest. “Fuck you.”

“Mmm…” he groaned, the sound reverberating through my bones. Without touching me, his nose traced down my neck, the warmth from his breath sending tingles down my spine.

I wished I could access my magic. Its electric nature crackled in my veins, begging me to set it free. A small zap to his hands would be enough to give me the space I needed to fight back, but within the tight confines of a speakeasy, any indication that I wasn’t human would spell disaster of epic proportions. Most humans blamed the magical species for ruining their world, so giving them a reason to attack me in their domain wasn’t wise. Which begged the question, why wasn’t Griffin glamouring his Elemental traits?

I needed to give myself some time to think.

“So,” I said breathlessly. “Was your misplaced vendetta for your parents’ death worth the destruction of our world?”

“Who says I’m the one responsible?”

“Literally everybody.”

“Define ‘everybody.’ Because if that involves your father, it doesn’t count.” When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “Let me guess. Consensus is that I killed your boyfriend, too?”

White flames burned away the icy fear at the mention of Slate’s murder. “Don’t fucking talk about him.”

Griffin chuckled. “I’m just going off the rumor mill, little princess.”

“So, you’re claiming you didn’t kill him?”

“I’m saying it’s a high possibility. Can’t be sure.”

Liar.

I’d been so caught up in the conversation with Griffin that I hadn’t noticed when silence fell over the speakeasy. With a glance over his shoulder, I saw every human glaring in our direction. Rebels had their guns drawn and aimed at us. Griffin seemed unphased.

“Well, this has been fun, Princess, but I’m afraid it’s time we finally part ways.” With a speed I didn’t know was possible, he snatched my knife without the use of his hands, and a millisecond later, the knife was lodged in my thigh. He stepped back, and my knee crashed against the hard floor, sending another sharp pain through my leg.

Almost immediately, the wound began to burn where the blade touched, the singe increasing with each breath.

That shouldn’t be happening.

“See ya around, Gray.” With a wink, he spun and strolled with a self-assured air through the speakeasy, calling out to the humans who were three seconds away from removing my head, “Let her go free. She’s mine.”

My only thought aside from the pain was, why would the humans listen to him? He’s supposed to be their enemy.

I dropped my backpack on the floor of the empty train car, ignoring the loud echo that made my head throb. Ran by Kinetics and our energetic magic, freight trains were the most efficient mode of transportation since Devolution Day, saving me days of trekking back to Atlanta. At the rate my wound was healing—or wasn’t—I didn’t think I’d make it.

Kinetic blades were meant to poison Elementals. The imbued black crystal within the blade was lethal to them if strong enough, while the redfern infused in Elemental blades served as the equivalent to Kinetics. We didn’t train with Kinetic blades, as we didn’t want to risk our resources by wasting them on ourselves.

A wooden bench that sat jammed against the rusted aluminum wall called to me. I crawled onto it, lying on my back. The tourniquet I’d fashioned for the wound was drenched in blood, prompting my head to swim. I bit my lower lip as the burning sensation in my thigh slowly radiated throughout my body. The half-mile walk to the nearest train station had done me no favors.

I lost him. I failed. And I wanted to vomit either from the pain or the shame of my shortcomings. Maybe both; I couldn’t be sure.

This failure only gave those in the Kinetic court more of a reason to disparage me. I could only assume they’d flaunt their disapproval at my annual birthday revel tomorrow night. This was the perfect ammunition for my father and Amethyst—spinning more lies to keep me separate from the others.

The burning pain in my organs intensified as my limbs began to numb. My vision tunneled as I fought the impending blackout indicated by the ringing in my ears. It was a relentless pain unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

Was I dying?

As the blackness snatched me under, I willingly fell into its depths, weary from the fight.

At the least, I proved my father right in one regard. I lived to disappoint.