Red Rain: Book 4, Night Series

by RS Black

Hyperion Series

  Codename: A, Book 1 (Coming Soon)

  Sneak Peek Codename: A

  Chapter 1

  Orion

  “I’ve called you into this meeting, Orion, because you’re the only one who understands this threat.” General Patla’s clear blue eyes never wavered from his hard gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  Curiosity more than a little piqued, Orion nodded, then flinched when the face he’d hoped never to see again popped up on the screen.

  Beautiful.

  Defiant.

  Cold.

  Calculating.

  Cruel.

  Bitch.

  Those were just a few adjectives to describe Arabella. But there were many more.

  Her static image gazed back at him with hard, golden amber eyes. Deep chestnut-colored hair framed a face that was forged by the gods. All strong lines, and yet distinctly feminine.

  Lips soft as rose petals. Eyes shaped like almonds. Skin as soft as velvet.

  He remembered it all. The sweetness of her skin. The words he’d longed to hear, words she’d whispered so sweetly, so sincerely into his ear.

  Rage and fury twisted his gut in knots, made the beast rise powerfully and swiftly to the surface. Fangs ripped through his gums as he clenched his fist by his side.

  He stood still. Unflinching. Unblinking. There was no need to memorize the sharp planes of her cheekbones and jawline, the rosebud tilt of her lips. He remembered it all, in exacting detail.

  Arabella had pierced his soul.

  An angel.

  Or so her crimson-and-gold-stained wings had made her appear.

  But she was the devil in disguise.

  He flipped his other hand over, staring at what looked to be flesh and blood, but was nothing more than an advanced form of gen-mod. Beneath the flesh was an intricate system of pulleys and wires, steel, and rods.

  Patla cleared her throat. “I understand if this assignment might be too difficult for—”

  “No,” he growled, turning back to the screen. Arabella’s image was gone, replaced by the hard visage of his general. “What do you need from me?”

  A thin smile stretched across her middle-aged face before she said, “Seems our little angel was captured by the enemy recently. Luckily for us they don’t seem to know what they’ve got on their hands. She’s being kept in a max-security prison in Utah.”

  Orion cocked his head, stuffing the hate and rage away. One thing he’d learned through the years was to leash his beast, leash the instinct, the call of the wild that lived and breathed and beat within him.

  He’d not become the best at what he did by being stupid.

  “That seems unlikely. The Order have been trying to get their hands on a Hyperion for centuries. They must know their value; why risk placing her there? Even in maximum security—that is nothing for one like me.”

  “Why, indeed.” Her blue-eyed gaze narrowed. “Insofar as we can figure, she’s merely in a temporary holding cell, but this could be a trap.” She spread her hand. “There is simply no way of knowing. What we do know is that we’ve got no other choice but to strike. Now, you know her mind, you know the way she thinks and manipulates those around her.”

  Spreading his legs wide, Orion scrubbed his jaw, his deep voice shivering with a hint of a growl. “I know how she operates. And if you’re asking, no, I’ll have no problem resisting.”

  Nostrils flaring as she grinned, General Patla nodded. Orion and Patla worked for a top-secret government organization. So secret in fact, that they were black ops.

  Off the books entirely.

  A fringe division of the government with only the very top brass in the know.

  There were no rules within the Triad, save one: do what you have to do to accomplish your mission, but never get caught.

  If you were, the government disavowed all knowledge of you. The United States did not negotiate with terrorists, not even for their ghosts—highly trained assassins like Orion, and others.

  The Triad had long-reaching tentacles that operated all over the fifty. Orion’s branch was buried in a bunker over two miles below the earth somewhere in Missouri. Being a three-star general, Patla was stationed in DC.

  Orion suspected she wasn’t human, but more than that he didn’t know. It was a rule within Triad never to know more than you had to, until the day you had to.

  “Good.” She inhaled deeply. “Then it should come as no surprise to you when I say this mission is for your eyes alone. You are to tell no one of this. If you’re caught, or in any way compromised—”

  “I know,” he snarled. “I’ve waited twenty years to get my hands back on that bitch. Believe me, I won’t fail.”

  “I know your past, Orion. Do not fail to consider all possibilities. I’d be more than happy to hand this op-sec over to Jackson.”

  “Like hell you will. This one’s mine.”

  “Okay.” She nodded brusquely, all business again. “Capture her alive.”

  “What condition?”

  She grinned. “That part’s entirely up to you.”

  He clenched his fist so tight his knuckles popped.

  The schematics of the prison popped up on the screen. It took him ten seconds to memorize the layout and weaknesses within the infrastructure. Where he’d likely make his escape and several backup plans in case one or more fell through.

  “You have twenty-four hours. If the mission won’t succeed within the allotted time you are to return immediately. Should you not come back, we will hunt you down and terminate you.”

  He clenched his jaw.

  Once, Arabella had been a weakness for him. An affliction he’d not been able to shake. But that was two decades ago. When he’d been little more than a whelp, a pup and a new recruit. He’d not even awoken the beast yet; he’d been as frail and soft as a mortal then. So pathetically desperate to believe in the viperous tongue that he’d have forsaken anyone and everything for a taste of her.

  “Don’t worry, General, the angel’s in good hands.” Sarcasm heavily laced his words.

  Her brows lifted in brief acknowledgement of his professionalism. “You’re the best and the only member of the team we can trust to pull off such a sensitive assignment. I hope we can count on you.”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  “Good.” She leaned back in her seat, showing a flash of exhaustion as she sighed. Well past two in the morning in DC, Orion was certain the General slept about as much he did. “Wheels up in fifteen.”

  Nodding, he reached over to shut off their communication when she held up a finger.

  “Honor your commitment to us, shifter, and you’re one step closer to gaining that which you’ve sought for so long.”

  The words almost had his knees buckling. For twenty years he’d fought for his people, to know they were so close now. He could almost taste the victory.

  There wasn’t a thing on this godforsaken earth that would prevent him from completing this mission. He’d claw his way through Hell if he had to. Taking down the bitch was nothing to that.

  “Ma’am,” he said as he clipped his head. Switching off the comm unit, he turned on his heel and marched out the door. There’d be no sleep for him tonight after all.

  In five hours the ghost of Arabella would haunt him no more.

  Chapter 2

  20 Years Ago

  Know your own darkness. Only then can you learn the darkness of others...

  The words rang in her ears, giving her the strength to step out from behind the safety of the shadow.

  Heart racing, mouth dry, she wrapped her arms about herself, peering with fearful eyes toward the dusky-hued horizon of the night forest.

  “Can you hear me, Azzazale?” The whispered words were caught on the strong, icy breeze, carried away into the void of night.

  The dark, skeletal branches of winter cloaked trees bent at odd angles from the driving wind around her.

  Only a sliver of silvery moon peeked through the cloudy sky. Arabella h
oped they’d arrive soon.

  “Hear you loud and clear, Sparrow.”

  Her lips gave a tremulous shake to hear her sergeant’s deep tenor. She dug her pinky nail into her bicep.

  “Zale.” She paused, peering frantically between the trees, sure that the shadows about her danced.

  “You can do this,” he said after a heartbeat. “You know you can. You’ve been trained. Do your job, then come home. Come home to me.”

  Swallowing hard, she pretended to tuck a flyaway curl behind her ear. Terror gripped her by the throat. What was to come, what lay ahead, all of it hinged on her remaining strong. Staying focused. And above all remembering who the real enemy was.

  “Tell Aeron...”

  Staring down at her scuffed black leather boots, she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

  The shadows were moving in, stealthy ghosts come to snatch her away into the very heart of Hell where no one and nothing could find her.

  “He knows, Sparrow. Bogeys coming in at your three, six, and nine.”

  Trying not to jump, or to act in any way as though she knew what was coming her way, she shifted her stance and peered up at the sky one final time. It could be days, weeks, or years before she ever saw it again.

  “Arabella, I—” Azzazale never said her true name during an op; that he did so now was a clear sign of his own distress.

  “I know, Falcon. I know.”

  Clearing his throat, he whispered hotly, “Keep to the light, love. Shutting down mic...now.” The final word came out broken and full of grit.

  Lashes flickering, she stealthily slipped the earpiece out of her ear and smashed it between her thumb and forefinger. She was now truly alone.

  Soul crushed by the utter sense of loss, Arabella put the final bit of her plan into action. Gripping her jacket between frozen fingers, she unzipped it and let it fall to her feet, then with a final shuddery breath she spread her wings, arching them out behind her like a glowing fan of rubies dipped in gold.

  “There!” A male voice roared. “Net her now.”

  With a scream of defiance she moved as if to jump into the air. But that was never really the plan.

  Arabella was the bait.

  A net of steel cord knocked her down to the cold, packed ground, stealing the breath from her lungs.

  She kicked and screamed, clawing and reaching out through the holes. Reaching for the moon, wanting so desperately to grab it, to hang on to it, that maybe this isolation wouldn’t be so bad so long as she could keep it within her.

  Boots stomped into her body. Her chest. Her thighs. Her arms. Pain blossomed from every pore, so that she could no longer focus on anything other than the fire of it racing through her very blood.

  The safety of the moon, the sense of rightness she’d always felt when looking upon it, was now no more. The moon was little more than an illusion. She’d lost the sky. And now there was only the mission.

  She screamed as electrical prods were shoved through the holes, into her body, incapacitating her. All she could do was howl and grunt from the horror of all the pain, knowing this was only just the beginning.

  Too many hands to count lifted her high into the air. Arabella bowed her back, a soundless scream pouring from her throat as a lone tear slipped from her eye.

  “Finally we catch the Angel.” The deep voice of her people’s greatest threat cut through the fog of pain in her head.

  The electrical currents stopped as quickly as they’d begun, but she could not as easily stop the convulsing of her body. Grunting, she shifted until she could lay her eyes upon him.

  “General Keaton,” she stuttered as she gazed upon the flinty, cold blue eyes that looked as bright and alert as they had thirty years ago when they’d first met.

  “Oh, my Angel.” The General smirked. His weather-beaten skin had aged significantly. There were scars around his eyes and mouth, a large one across his broad forehead. And even though his hair was no longer the lustrous brown it’d once been but more salt and pepper, it gave him a distinguished look. The General was more battle-hardened than he’d been when she’d first set eyes upon him as a pathetic lieutenant in the United States Army. “I told you one day you’d be mine. And so you are.”

  She spit in his face, no longer scared. Now there was nothing but her rage and fury to sustain her.

  The Devil was real and he wore Keaton’s face.

  Laughing, he wiped her spittle from his brow. “Sticks and stones, my beauty. You can’t hurt me. And where you’re going, there’s no escaping. Ever.” Keaton snapped his fingers with a look of supreme satisfaction lacing his eyes and lips.

  Then the power was turned back on and she screamed until her throat ran with blood.

  ~*~

  Coughing with a throat that was now fevered and blistered raw, Arabella was tossed carelessly into her eight-by-eight cell, the iron bars creaking slowly closed as the footsteps faded away. One day blended into the next as the tortures continued on endlessly, the Triad demanding answers she did not have or would not give.

  As the days marched on she grew more and more hopeless, until today. Opening bleary eyes she stared at the apple sitting on the tray and felt hope blossom inside her for the first time in weeks.

  Too exhausted to eat, all she could do was clasp her hand to the apple and drag it to her breast, cradling it like one would a babe, smiling softly to herself as a tear slid soundlessly down her eye.

  She was almost home.

  ~*~

  One month later

  Orion watched the guards haul her back to the cell. Her wings dragged on the ground behind her, her head lolling, and she was covered in blood.

  Every day he heard her screams. Stood outside the interrogation room and had to remind himself that she was nothing but a monster.

  Angel wings she might have, but she was the enemy.

  An enemy with sun-kissed skin and eyes that burned straight through him. He clenched his jaw. This was a dangerous game he played. He was still only human; it would be nothing for them to kill him. This was insubordination, even thinking the thoughts he thought.

  Bringing her the apples.

  But there was something about the Hyperion that drew him in like a wolf to the kill. He wet his lips when he caught the scent of her blood and the unique smell of the skies that even after so long locked away still burned through her pores.

  Nothing in this house of horrors smelled quite like her.

  Like...freedom.

  “Jackson.” Orion jumped into step with his pack mate and gave a swift nod to the second guard he barely knew—Cole—who never spared him a glance.

  “What?” Jackson groused, unwinding the Hyperion’s arm from around his neck and dropping her like a sack of wheat to the ground.

  Jackson’s temper had grown more volatile of late. His words short and snappy, his actions at times violent and even cruel.

  He swung around, staring at Orion with intelligent, flinty eyes. Jackson would turn tonight. A part of Orion envied his friend, while another, larger part of him dreaded the day his own change from man to beast would come.

  Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, determined to ignore the bundle of nerves twisting his gut in two, he thrust a sheet at his pack mate.

  “The bird’s to be taken to the infirmary for a routine check-up.”

  Frowning, Jackson glanced at the sheet then back up at Orion. “Yeah, I get that. But why are you here?”

  “Dean’s sick. They gave me the order.”

  Jaw working from side to side, Jackson crumpled up the sheet and shoved it into his pocket. “You’re not a nurse, Rion. Let one of them come take this piece of trash out. I need you doing sentry duty tonight.”

  It wasn’t often that Orion would fight Jackson, but he wasn’t backing down tonight. It’d taken four bribes to get this damned detail; no way in hell he wasn’t gonna be the one to do it.

  “Gotta be me, Jack. I’ll be by the gunnery soon as I’m done with her.”
/>
  With a snarl, Jackson snapped his finger at Cole. “C’mon.”

  Cole glowered at Orion. “Second time in two weeks I’ve missed chow ’cause of this jackass. I’ll take the bird to the infirmary.”

  “I told you last week, I caught movement on the grounds.” Orion thrust out his chest, refusing to be cowed.

  Cole was already a fully pledged member of the pack. He’d turned two months ago. With a shaggy head of black hair, piercing blue eyes (one of which had been permanently scarred in a Nephilim camp raid half a year ago, and as a result now bore a jagged, vertical scar), and towering over six and a half feet, he was the antithesis of Orion in just about every way. But wolf’s blood ran through Orion’s veins too, and though he was still only mortal, he was no coward.

  “Yeah, which only turned out to be a fucking sparrow stuck in the bushes.” Cole took an angry step toward Orion.

  Jackson shoved them both backward. “Get your gear and let’s go.” He clipped Cole on the shoulder, then jerked his chin in the direction of the bird. “Take her quickly, Rion.”

  Heart pounding away in his chest like a booming drumbeat, Orion waited a full three seconds before going over to the Hyperion’s side. She still had her eyes closed and, alone in the darkness of her cell, he could study her in a way he’d not had the freedom to do before.

  She was rail thin, a far cry from the voluptuous woman she’d been when she’d first arrived. He could count every rib in her chest. Her face was gaunt. Her rich brown hair more muted. There wasn’t an inch of her body that wasn’t covered in bruises, or crisscrossed with scars. He also noticed a tiny tattoo on her left shoulder. A word. Liberum. He didn’t know what it meant, if it even meant anything, but the ink was freshly black, as though she’d gotten it just hours ago.

  Steeling his jaw against the irrational desires pounding away at him, he knelt beside her.

  “Bird,” he said, “wake up.”

  Her head tilted in his direction, excruciatingly slow, before she blinked open her eyes. The only part of her that was as it’d been were her eyes. The sight of that golden-brown color made his pulse quicken.

  “The name isn’t bird.” Her voice was weak, but her conviction strong. It was the first time he’d heard her actually speak. Before now it’d always been screams or grunts of pain.