by T. S. Ryder
"When I was sixteen, I was taken in by an organization that trains young people to be spies. They trick us in with promises of work and a better life, and then they make us do things . . . No, 'spies' isn't the right word." She took another deep breath. "They teach us how to kill people. How to manipulate people, steal secrets . . . anything that we're hired to do. I'm a professional kidnapper and assassin."
Grayson's mind reeled. He backed away from Arabella, shaking his head. He already knew what this meant, but couldn't believe it. No. There was no way that Arabella – sweet, loving Arabella – would have been privy to his children being kidnapped.
"They keep track of every single thing they give us, from water to clothes to a place to sleep. They charge us for everything and with each mission we complete, some of our debt is paid. They said this was my last mission. Nobody was supposed to be hurt." Tears flowed freely down her face. "I wanted to find another way. I wanted to fake my own kidnapping. But the organization . . . they knew that I was . . . wanting to change things. They didn't want that, so they authorized my partner to go ahead with the mission without me. She took the children."
Rage flared through his body. His fires whipped to a frenzy. He had never hated anybody as much as he hated her in that moment. If anybody else had just told him what she had, he'd have torn them apart. But this was Arabella, and there was still a part of his mind that refused to believe that she could have anything to do with putting his children in danger.
"I will get them back. I will do whatever it takes, but I will get them back," she said. "Grayson, I promise."
She reached for him. He jerked away as though she had a gun in her hand. Smoke billowed from his nostrils. Without a word, he seized her around the waist and dragged her towards the window. Arabella cried out as he let loose a blast of fire, shattering the glass outward. He paused a moment to make sure his grip was secure, then threw them both out of the window. Arabella screamed, clinging to him. His suit ripped apart as he shifted. His wings snapped out, catching them, and he quickly lifted to a higher elevation. Arabella's arms gripped him firmly, and he cupped her in both hands to make sure she didn't fall.
He flew for a solid hour, the whistling wind doing nothing to calm his rage. Eventually, he set down on the top of a snowy mountain peak. With a blast of fire, the snow all melted around them. He set Arabella down and Shifted again.
"Grayson, I am so sorry," she sobbed. "I love them, I really do."
"What did you do?" he hissed.
Between sobs ripping through her body, she told him everything. How this was supposed to be her final mission, and that she had set everything up in meticulous detail to ensure that nobody would actually be hurt but that his political days would be behind him. Grayson's rage went from hot to cold, and by the time she was done, he didn't know what to say or do. He didn't know the person he was looking at.
He turned, screaming into the air as a ball of fire erupted from his mouth. His massive shoulders slumped. After everything he thought was between them . . . it was all a lie. To her credit, she didn't beg him to forgive her. She knew what she had done was unforgivable.
"You are going to get them back," he said coldly. "No matter what it takes."
"Yes," she agreed.
"And then you're going to jail."
There was only a brief moment's pause. "Yes."
He turned back, breathing out the rest of the smoke that filled his lungs. He wasn't sure what else to say, but as he gazed at Arabella, a pain he never thought he'd experience again filled him. How could he even look in her eyes again after this?
"I haven't received any ransom demands," he said. "I was going to back off politics. What changed?"
Arabella's eyes dropped. "They could see me. I was getting emotionally attached. Maybe they thought I wouldn't go through with the job. But whatever the reasons, I haven't just been sitting in the hospital. I've been researching. I have a place to start looking."
"Good." He drew in a deep breath to calm himself, then nodded. "Good. I'll fly you back to my house. I want to be in on every step of the way."
"You will be, and I will get them back." She wiped away her tears and a look of fierce determination came over her face. "No matter what."
Chapter Eleven – Arabella
The still-healing gunshot wound in her side pulled as she climbed out of the car, but Arabella didn't even let herself wince despite the pain. Kennedy was no doubt watching. To show any weakness could be fatal at this stage. And she couldn't die.
Not until the twins were safe, at least.
After that, her mission would be complete and the organization would most likely want her dead, anyway. Why they hadn't already had her killed was a mystery, unless they wanted to use her for something else . . . or, worse, send her through retraining. She'd seen the people who had come out of that program. They were little more than zombies.
Part of her wanted to think that she could stay with Grayson, but that wasn't an option, either. After seeing the fury in Grayson's face when she confessed the truth, she knew there wasn't any place left for her with him. And even if there was, staying with him after going against the organization would only mean that he and the children would never be safe.
No, her only mission from now on was making sure that Olivia and Hudson were returned to their father unharmed. After that, it didn't matter what happened to her.
She pushed those thoughts from her head as she strode towards the apartment where Kennedy had been living. Arabella doubted her colleague was still there, but she would be monitoring it. Going here would reveal that she had survived the gunshot, but Kennedy was notoriously sloppy. There had to be something there that would point to where the children were now.
The door's deadbolt posed no problem and Arabella slipped inside. What little had been in the apartment before was now completely stripped away. The only thing that indicated that Kennedy and the twins had even been there was a blanket laying on the floor. Pink with a satin trim. Arabella's heart clenched. It was Olivia's favorite blanket – the one she couldn’t sleep without.
Arabella picked up the blanket, her heart thudding against her ribs. It was cold. Her stomach clenched. Was Kennedy keeping them warm enough? Was she feeding them? How was she reacting to them crying, to their demands to go home? Was she hurting them?
Arabella's phone rang. It was a harsh sound in the silence and made her jump. It showed a blocked number. Dread slid down her spine as she answered.
"Arabella," a cool, feminine voice that she didn't recognize greeted her. "Our sources tell us that you're out of the hospital. How are you feeling?"
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Where are Kennedy and the Alexander twins?"
A pause answered her. "This business no longer concerns you, my dear. Come home and we will discuss your unprofessional behavior. If you insist on doing what you have been doing . . . well, we will have to terminate our relationship."
The threat was expected, but hearing it aloud calmed Arabella. She supposed it was an odd reaction, but she didn't care. Death she could handle. She inhaled deeply and released the breath, all of her fears drifting away.
"I never wanted this 'relationship' with the organization," she said. "I still don’t know why you people chose me. I never asked to be a part of it, and yet I've had to dedicate my life to pay off the debts that you thrust upon me. You kept me a prisoner, then said I had to pay you for the expenses of holding me against my will?"
"Arabella—"
"I'm not finished." She took another deep breath. "I didn't want this life, but I am good at what I do, even if you think I'm too compassionate. I have had the lowest failure rate among my department. If the Alexander twins are returned to their father unharmed, then I will spend the rest of my life working for the organization. I'll come back and never leave."
"You misunderstand," the voice said, almost amused at this point. "Your mission to get Grayson to step back from politics was successful. Your debt
has been expunged. We want you to return to claim your reward. But –"
Arabella clutched the phone as the pause drew out, each second marked by the beating of her heart.
"But I'm afraid dear Kennedy has gone rogue. We can't have that, can we? Stay out of this, Arabella. We will handle it."
She knew exactly what 'handling' it meant. And while she winced to think of what would happen to Kennedy, her colleague was the last thing on her mind. They wouldn't care about two small children ending up as collateral damage.
"I can take Kennedy down," she insisted.
"You're too close to the issue to do what is necessary."
"No!" Arabella cried automatically, but the woman only hung up.
Her head spun, the bullet wound stabbing pain through her body. She stumbled to the bathroom and vomited. Whether it was the injury or stress, she didn't know. A black darkness crept in at the edges of her vision, but she fought it off and laid down on the floor. Her head still spun, but her body relaxed enough for her to think clearly.
They were going to kill the twins. That's what they meant when she was too close. They were going to kill Kennedy from a distance, and they were going to kill the twins with her. Terror ran through her body, threatening to paralyze her, but she managed to push it aside. She just had to find Kennedy first. If she did that, she could get the twins back home and disappear before the organization could target them again.
A search of the apartment revealed nothing useful. So either Kennedy had been more thorough than usual or the organization already had done a cleanup on it.
She left everything where it was, though it pained her to leave the blanket behind. Either way, leaving the blanket behind was a very deliberate act. A taunt from Kennedy, perhaps. Or a way to place a bug in the Alexander home. She left it in the apartment. Bringing it back like this would only cause Grayson more pain, anyway.
She debated what she should tell him as she drove back to his treetop house. The taunting pink blanket? The threatening phone call? Or just tell him that it was a dead end?
A roar greeted her when she stepped off the elevator and into the house. Huge fists grabbed her and threw her against the wall. Arabella punched into the ribs of her attacker before she realized it was Henry. Her blow made pain flash across the dragon's face, but he didn't let it slow him down. He pinned her by her throat, fire flickering between his teeth.
"Name one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now."
Grayson's voice rang out. "Henry! Let her go."
Arabella made sure that she stayed limp and contrite, staring into Henry's eyes. Grayson grabbed his friend and pried him off of her but not without difficulty. Arabella knew of a dozen ways she could make the dragon release her. He was holding her sloppily, but she didn't want to antagonize him further. Grayson pushed him back, standing between the two of them. She coughed and rubbed her sore throat.
"Why are you defending her?" Henry snarled. "It's her fault that the children are out there all alone."
Arabella flinched, but she had to agree with him. "Yes, it is. But I am going to do everything in my power to get them back."
Henry snorted. He stepped forward again but Grayson put a hand out, stopping him.
"Right now Arabella is our best chance at getting them back. I'm not putting my children in any more jeopardy than they already are. Calm down."
Arabella took a deep breath. She hadn't wanted anybody but Grayson to find out about her past, but given how close he and Henry were, it was an inevitability. She just hoped that he wouldn't end up costing them too much time as they explained the situation.
"I got a ransom call," Grayson said, turning to Arabella. "But it wasn't for politics. They want me to deliver three million dollars to them. Why money? I thought it was all about politics."
"Kennedy went rogue," Arabella explained. "That call means she's still alive, but the organization will be after her. We have to find her before they do."
Henry's hands clenched. "Why should we trust you? It's your fault that they were taken in the first place. How do we know that you're not still in on it? You could just be covering your bases."
"I guess you don’t," Arabella snapped. "I only have words to prove that I'm on your side. But I love those children. I would rather die than see anything happen to them. I don't have a proper lead right now, but if you'll just give me a little time, I'll be able to get them back."
Grayson's face looked like it had aged a million years. His whole body sagged downwards. "You don't have any leads?"
She shook her head, her heart breaking at the pure pain on his face. "I'm sorry. But Kennedy is sloppy. I will find something."
"And if you don't? Will she give me my children back if I give her the money?"
Arabella couldn’t answer that. She had no idea. Grayson turned away, looking strangely weak for such a large, strong man. He nodded once and walked away without a word. What was he going to do? Arabella stepped after him, but before she could ask, Henry had grabbed her. His hand clasped over her throat as he threw her against the wall again.
"Grayson might still be battling his feelings for you, but I see you clearly," he hissed at her. "If anything happens to those children, I will rip you to pieces and burn your bones to nothing. Understood? I'll kill you."
Arabella stared back, unimpressed, until he released her. Her throat was sore from his grip, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. "You might tear me to pieces and burn my bones, but you won't kill me. If anything happens to Olivia and Hudson, I'll be dead before you get a chance to touch me."
Surprise flitted across Henry's face. She turned her back on him and walked away.
Chapter Twelve – Grayson
Grayson landed lightly and hurried to yank on some clothing after he shifted. He'd been at the bank when he got Arabella's call saying she might have found something. Now he rushed to the living room where Arabella sat among a plethora of weapons. He stopped dead, eyes widening.
"Whoa."
He hadn't seen so many guns all in the same place since he went to the war museum. Unlike the ones locked in the cases there, though, these ones were black and shiny. Each one gleamed with a ready-to-kill shine. A chill ran down his spine. Everything she had said before suddenly made sense. She was an assassin, ready to do whatever was necessary to get the twins back.
"You said you know where Kennedy is holding the twins?" he asked, shaking himself from the hypnotizing glitter of weaponry.
"Yes. I tracked down her phone. The idiot left it on. But we have to act quickly or the organization will get to her first."
Grayson nodded. He picked up a handgun and turned it over in his hands. He'd never been in a real life-or-death fight before. The thought of killing another person was repulsive – until he thought of that person harming his children. He'd kill to protect them. There was no doubt in his mind about that.
His gaze returned to the woman prepping the guns in the middle of his living room. She looked so sweet, so unassuming. But there was something deadly inside of her – he could see that now. Did it make the loving part of her less sweet?
He cleared his throat. "Arabella."
She looked up.
"How many people have you killed?"
Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she didn't break eye contact. "Directly, I've killed seven. If you take into account the suicides caused by my actions, twelve."
So she knew what she was doing. He didn't say that out loud, though. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he realized just how deadly the woman who had been watching his children was. Seven dead by her hand, plus five suicides. How did she sleep at night? Was she completely emotionless? A psychopath?
"I was put mostly in situations where I was meant to manipulate the mark, gain information, leak embarrassing secrets, that sort of thing. I've got one of the lowest kill rates in the organization, but I've got the highest rank in kill efficiencies. Very little mess, very quick deaths." She looked down at the guns again and sho
ok her head. Her voice was heavy with bitterness and regret. "As if killing them quickly makes a difference."
Grayson repressed a shudder but was relieved to hear her speak that way. She didn't want to kill; she was forced into it.
"Manipulation," he said, drawing on something else she had just said. "Is that why you slept with me? To manipulate me?"
Arabella flinched.
Grayson loaded the gun he was holding and tucked it into his waistband. He crouched near Arabella and brushed the hair from her face, so he could see her eyes clearly. His heart beat shallowly in his chest, though he didn't know why this should affect him so much. She had already proven herself a liar; he couldn't trust her past what was necessary to get the children back. And yet, he found himself needing to know.
"Well?" he demanded.
"I had to do what was necessary to complete the mission."
"That's not an answer."
She pulled away from him and shook her head. "No. Or yes. I'm not sure. It wasn't part of the plan. I thought that maybe there was another way other than kidnapping the children. But I didn't plan to sleep with you, and after we did . . . I realized what a mistake I made."
Hearing her refer to their blissful time as a mistake made him flinch. He knew that he shouldn't feel so disappointed, but he was. He already knew it was a mistake to have developed feelings for her, but there was still a part of him hoping that there was some truth between them. Clearly, that was not the case. It made him furious and cold at the same time.
"And how many other men did you sleep with for your missions?" His tone came out harsher than he wanted it to.
Arabella shook her head. "I'm not talking about this anymore. I hate this life, but it's been who I am since I was sixteen. There's no changing that."
What kind of life was this? She said she'd been part of it since she was sixteen. What sixteen-year-old has the mental capacity to prevent being taken advantage of – being forced into a life like this?