Galen was fine with taking me for a brief walk in the frigid DC evening. We'd done this dance nightly, always after dark when I couldn't be seen. The streets had nearly cleared and the park was all but empty. Galen used the reprieve to call his wife and tell his son, Parker, goodnight.

He informed the brute-squad guarding the door and led me down a plain white hallway to a large unmarked service elevator. I don't know what the CIA used this structure for, or exactly how far underground it went. Even the lift for commercial workers was devoid of any instructions or numbers. It took three nights, but simple math told me there were at least seven floors below street-level.

From the back of the boring concrete cube, we emerged onto the street where I sucked in a grateful breath. The sun had set behind the city's skyline and the streetlamps were casting a muted glow on the few people left on the walkways. The occasional car cruised by as Galen and I hustled toward the adjoining parking structure.

I could taste the cherry bark and fallen leaves before we even reached the park. We crossed through the open ground floor of the multi-story civic parking lot, into the squishy grass.

Clad in a pair of my mom's colorful food-themed flannel pajamas and my ratty sneakers, I wandered over the sodden earth enjoying the sensation of moisture in the chilly air. It was going to snow soon, but I didn't feel the least bit cold.

"Don't go too far," Galen warned like the dad he was, stepping over the grass carefully so as not to ruin his nice loafers.

"Like you could stop me," I laughed, taking another deep breath.

"I would," he promised. "Eventually."

"I'm just going to walk to the pond and back," I promised with a knowing grin. "Just like last night. You should call your son."

Galen ducked his head bashfully and held up a hand to tell me I could go. I watched him reach for the cell phone he always kept tethered to his pocket.

Plodding over the soggy ground, I waded through leaves and brush toward the stagnant water of the glacial duck pond. Not even the pre-frost could cover the tang of phosphorous goose poop covering the mucky grass.

I missed the obnoxious cricket parade I used to get up in Canada, and the strangely high-pitched burps of the toads littering the forest floor. I missed Mac's smelly camper and his sad-man music collection. What I wouldn't give to listen to Michael Bolton's greatest hits on repeat.

"Can you talk?" A familiar gravelly voice interrupted my dour thoughts, making me jump.

"Dude!" I squeaked, trying not to alert Galen. "What the hell?"

"There isn't much time," the voice of my emo-stalker replied out of nowhere.

"Ugh, fine," I sighed, scanning the darkness.

Whatever power this guy had, he was able to block me from detecting his energy signature in the air.

"Head for the fence."

My feet squelched over the leaves and grass, soaking the hem of my pajama pants. Lining one small section of the park was a tall wooden fence bordering a prefab duplex community. I think a lot of the agents like Galen lived in those condos, but I couldn't be sure.

I was pushing my luck by straying so far from the edge of the pond.

"Hey stranger," I growled as soon as the lean outline of his body came into view. Suddenly, I could taste the energy rippling off his form, and it was oddly alluring in a way I wasn't expecting. "Did you find another glitch in the Matrix?"

He was nestled in the branches of one of the adolescent fir trees straddling the property. His unique musk was mottled with sap but held notes of pheromone-soaked bergamot.

"I wanted to know you were alright," he answered barely above a whisper as his onyx eyes tightened infinitesimally.

"Is that it?" I demanded, too stupefied to think of a snappier comeback.

He nodded once, rustling the frons of the tree he was using for cover.

"So, don't you want to tell me, I don't know, your name?" I sputtered. "Or why you helped me on that rooftop? Do you know what happened to Mac's body?"

He tipped his masked chin to marvel at the glistening slices of melted cheese and toasted pepperoni decorating my mom's pajama pants.

"Hey!" I snapped. "Soulless eyes up here buddy."

"You are in danger, Ella," he said matter of fact.

"It's Ella," I corrected automatically before realizing he'd said my name right the first time. For a second, I stared right into the inky depths of his vacant eyes. "Look, if I think I'm in danger, I'll figure a way out of it. That's what I do now, apparently."

"Good," he answered with a touch of humor.

A brief calamity at the base of the wooden fence forced me to look away. With all the grace of a young Jean Claude Van Damme, a limber body flipped over the six-foot privacy wall to land easily on the balls of their feet. Stalking our way was a gorgeous woman with a swath of glossy raven curls that tumbled down her back and a pouty mouth.

"Why are you dallying?" She hissed at him, ignoring me altogether.

"Uh, who the fuckle-doodle-do are you?" I asked, completely gobsmacked.

She fixed a pair of bright green eyes on mine and tilted her perfectly symmetrical face. Unlike my emo-stalker, she didn't feel the need to wear a mask. I wouldn't want to cover up that kind of staggering beauty either.

She was much taller than me, with legs for days, flawless bronzed skin, and a sassy curve all the way up to the deep V-neck of her well-proportioned top. Her understated (yet finely tailored) catsuit and wedge-heeled boots made her look like a sexy scuba diver.

"You're right," she purred, bringing her bee-stung lips close to his ear. "She's not ready."

"Not ready for what now?" I demanded.

It was difficult to tell in the dark and with his mask, but I swear I saw the outline of a smile beneath the skeletal mandible covering the man in black's jawline. I briefly made eye contact with his stunning accomplice to make sure she was still ignoring me on purpose.

"Be seeing you, Ella," his body dissolved into his signature tangerine squiggles.

His foxy cohort and I faced off for a moment longer before she vaulted backward to land at the base of the fence. With a classy grunt, she leapt over the structure like a twirling gazelle while I was left gaping.

Not ready for what? What was the sexy beanstalk talking about?

Damp and slightly dazed, I walked back toward Galen counting down items on a mental checklist to keep from going categorically bonkers.

One, I still didn't know my stalker's name, and he thought I was in danger (what's new?), and he had a friend that didn't seem to like me one little bit.

Two, my dad's death was not an accident and my mom had a closer connection to this than I'd realized. Her admissions in the limo hinted at new clues and promised a metric fuck-ton of uncomfortable questions.

Three, doctor Chester didn't turn me into a Scion, and I wasn't even close to letting that mystery go. Someone knew about the genetic engineering required to create a new subspecies with supernatural powers, and I was going to find them.

Four, the CIA gets very cranky when you leave the perimeter of their eyesight.

And five, this was far from over.

Hello! I want to say a heartfelt THANK YOU to everyone that has been reading along with this story. I didn't publish last week because it's been a rough time for my family. Emotionally and physically, the world is in such a strange (and scary) place. Unfortunately, my anxiety has been getting the better of me lately and I'm sure many of you can relate. Stay safe, stay healthy, and STAY INSIDE until we can banish this awful virus. 

I'm posting a preview to the second book in this series here, but next week I'll start uploading those chapters in a new book. 

Again, thank you so much!! Every read, every comment, and every like lifts my spirits :D