ROGUE

P R O L O G U E

J  A  S  O  N

***

The faded photograph in his hands was crinkled and curled at the corners, poorly framing a low-quality image of a girl, no older than sixteen.

Angelo's cold stony eyes burned into me, almost pleading me for a reaction as I studied the grainy features of the girl's soft face, analysing her bright smile which contrasted against the washed out colours of her surroundings. I rested my elbows on my knees and clasped my hands together, sighing and furrowing my eyebrows, somehow unable to look away.

I waited silently for an explanation, an order, or even as little as a sentence. I wanted to know why I had been requested to waste my night on an empty tube, with only an acquaintance for company and a discoloured photograph of a teen girl which almost seemed to hypnotise me.

"I want her."

Angelo's empty voice layered over the unpleasant sounds of nothingness as the tube raced down the quiet tunnels. I forced myself to look up at him, curiously raising an eyebrow and trying my hardest not to get distracted by the overload of dizzying tattoos that spiralled around every inch of his face.

Any sane person would know better than to question a man like Angelo, because one look from him was enough to send most people running.

However, I was not most people.
And I definitely was not sane.

"You want her." I repeated, more of a statement than a query. My tone dripped with boredom and I shrugged, just to exaggerate exactly how apathetic I was about Angelo's desires. "Then get her."

Angelo remained silent for a moment, his immovable eyes scanning me and squinting inquisitively. Then, he slowly tilted his head, and a sickening smirk stained his inked features. "I'd rather have someone do it for me," He began, speaking relatively slowly and his eyes illuminating with inhumanity. "And there's nobody better than Jason McCann to get a job done right."

My name was rarely spoken about in a positive way, and Angelo's words sounded almost foreign to me. I was known throughout the whole West-Coast of America as one of the most dangerous men alive.

And it was true.

I had been raised in an abusive household and was dragged into a life of crime when I was only thirteen years old.
My father was involved in one of the highest-powered gangs in California, and when he believed I was 'old enough', he wanted me to be a part of it as well.

I started off as small and vulnerable, quiet and somewhat kind.

No one expected all those harmless robbery missions to quickly develop into something more sinister and deplorable -
Something that appeared so evil to most, but had become genuinely normal to me.

Murder.

And now, I had grown to lead my own gang, present my own name, and control my own job.

And I was the best at it.

I let out a heavy sigh and sat back against the red leather seats of the tube, rubbing the back of my neck in boredom.
The photograph seemed to watch me every time I moved, and it settled an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. It also seemed to switch something inside me, and I felt the sudden need to defend the girl who was printed onto the washed out paper.

"Isn't she a little young?" I commented, letting my gaze flicker from the picture to Angelo, unexplainably despising the thought of someone who seemed so innocent in the hands of a man so black-hearted.

"She turns eighteen in exactly three years." He said, leaning forward slightly. "And that's when I want her. But I want every single detail... I want to know everything about her." He said eerily, causing me to mentally wince in disgust before he continued. "I've already assigned this mission to a few other individuals, but the offer stands for you as well."

I raised an eyebrow at his statement, and a slight yet sudden pang of irritation tickled the inside of my stomach. "You've already got someone doing this for you?" I questioned, shaking my head and deciding not to wait for an answer. "Why would you ask me to come here and offer me an already operating mission? You're just wasting my time." I scolded, swallowing the stony sensation in the back of my throat. "Kidnapping isn't really my thing anyway. I'm not interested."

Angelo cocked his head slightly, showing no signs of disappointment. All that I could see were thin traces of manipulation, and I sighed heavily, already anticipating his next bribery.
"Come on, McCann." He said, almost softly as he leaned further forward in his seat. "Everyone knows you love the competition... and I'm sure that a one-million dollar cash prize will help to change your mind?"

My head snapped up and my eyes locked with his, my attention suddenly completely present and focused. It wasn't as if I needed the money, but such an insane price for such a simple mission seemed almost abnormal and was definitely questionable. "One million just to kidnap a girl?" I repeated, sounding slightly dumbfounded which was a look I hardly wore well.

Another menacing smirk tugged at Angelo's lips. "You talk as if it sounds easy."

"You talk as if it doesn't." I shot back, narrowing my eyes with uncertainty and inevitable suspicion. "You're asking for three years of my time. That's not something I can't give you."

Angelo seemed to catch my confusion and notice my clouded judgment, feeding him the sickening satisfaction that he was desperately starving for.
"So," He spoke, accomplishment noticeably present in his voice. "We have a deal?"

My eyes couldn't help but fall back onto the faded photograph before I finalised my decision. My mind scattered over my choices, and my hands clenched into tight fists of  frustration. I knew that one simple word could easily fall out of my mouth and change this innocent girl's life forever.

And it slipped from my bottom lip before I even had the chance to catch it.

"Deal."