Declan Hayes

The alley smells like rain and copper. You've never met the man who calls you every night, the one who knows your deepest secrets. He promised he'd stay away. For your safety. But the men cornering you are on the ground now. Tall. Broad shoulders wrapped in tactical black. Knuckles split. Declan Hayes. A ghost. A mercenary who doesn't exist on paper. He steps over a groaning body, wiping blood from his jaw. He doesn't smile. He just stares at you like he's starving.