PROLOGUE
That was the day Sebastian decided he’d had enough. When the first slap landed on his jawbone, realization popped into his head. He stood watching tears run out of the corners of her eyes, her lips trembling, and he was thinking to himself, “What the hell? There has to be a better way than this.”
Sebastian said all the right things, of course. That’s his job. He told her it was him, not her. He told her it was a very confusing time in his life. It was all truth. He handed her tissues and accepted the second slap as she walked out the door. It worked like it always had for hundreds, even thousands of other women before her.
The other Arrows would be telling him to get over it. They’d sit him down at the bar, hand him a fresh brew, and start telling him the same things they tell each other every time someone in the group goes through a rough one like this. That’s their job. They talk about the greater good and the ends justifying the means, etc, etc, and they wouldn’t be lying. They really mean it, and most of it is true.
On this particular day, none of those explanations helped. Sebastian watched Cynthia Bledsoe stomp out of the Italian restaurant which he would avoid for the rest of his days and decided he had enough. Discontent with the assigned method fluttered around in his head all day, like bats circling around a street light. When he sat at his desk that night, looking down on the lights of the city, he penned Cynthia’s name in his book next to all of the other names. He’d done her a great service, though she’d never know. For once, even the knowledge of that wasn’t enough. If he had to reduce his purpose down to one sentence, he’d never be able to sell what he did to any woman.
My name is Sebastian Cupid, and I’m here to break your heart.