Grabbing one of the first she saw, she thumbed through the pages, gaze drifting over words she didn’t understand. But she was fascinated by the scrawling letters and symbols.
It wasn’t long before she was losing herself in that room and within the pages of books, escaping her own reality to sink into another.
It was here that Kit found her, but this time she wasn’t curled in a chair reading one of the many books that lined the walls, rather she was studying a shadowbox that hung on a wall and the two instruments inside it.
To her, they just looked like … sticks. Just plain ordinary sticks that didn’t seem special in any way. But they had to be, she thought, since he had gone through the trouble of hanging them there.
“They belonged to my father.”
Luna had gotten used to Kit moving silently and showing up when she least expected it, so for once, she didn’t jump at his sudden appearance behind her. She held up the instruments, familiarizing herself with the weight of them.
“They look like very fancy sticks.”
His smile was rueful. “They’re called escrima sticks.”
Plucking one from her hands, he did a rather cool maneuver where he moved the wood between his fingers, letting it spin around his hand before he caught it again.
“Useful if you know what you’re doing with them.”
“Will I learn how to use these?” she asked.
“If that’s what you want.”
Smiling at him, she was lost in his gray eyes a moment before she blinked and came back to herself. “Were you looking for me?”
“I was. There’s someone you need to meet.”
Frowning, she asked, “Who?”
“Your future handler.”
She didn’t think anything had ever sounded more ominous.
“And who’s that … exactly?”
“His name is Zachariah, most in the Den call him Z.”
“What does being a handler entail?”
“In most cases, he oversees training at the compound, and assigns jobs to those that accept the contract. And he’s usually the one to find the mercenaries that are brought into the Den.” He glanced down at her with a curious look. “You were a special case.”
As Kit swept through the doors of his office, Luna at his heels, she came face to face with Z.
A trainer of mercenaries …
Luna was expecting a big guy, one that looked like he had been in the American Marines for thirty years with the haircut to prove it, but what she found was a rather average-sized man with a stern expression and hair as white as snow, though he couldn’t have been no older than his late forties.
He studied her in that way Kit always did, but his felt more assessing, and whatever he saw in her, she thought he found it lacking.
“Zachariah, meet Luna—I’m sure Uilleam has told you all about her.”
She glanced at Kit, wondering just how much Uilleam had said, but the man’s expression didn’t change. Whether he was impressed or not, he didn’t let it reflect on his face.
“You’re what all the fuss is about?” he asked, though there was nothing mean behind his words. “Let’s hope you amount to something.”
Luna’s mouth gaped slightly, too surprised to say anything before he was looking back to Kit.
Sometimes it amazed him that of all the men in the Runehart lineage, Kit seemed to be the only one capable of manners.
Usually it was Uilleam he needed to keep in line, but his uncle seemed to be in a right state, and seemed ready to take it out on Luna.
For the second time in as many weeks, Kit was forcing a smile as he looked to the girl that continued to baffle him. “Luna, if you would excuse us a moment.”
A curious look crossed her face before she was leaving the room. He was supposed to be introducing her after all, and only offering her name wasn’t much of anything.
“Uilleam finds humor in being rude,” Kit said, still looking toward the door Luna had left out of. “I didn’t know you were the same.”
“When I’m made to take a flight on forty-eight hours’ notice to meet a trainee that’s technically not a trainee, I’m rude.” Zachariah leveled a look on him that demanded answers. “I thought you decided against delving into your brother’s affairs?”
He had.
And it had been a decision he hadn’t made lightly.
Uilleam hadn’t always been The Kingmaker, the criminal mastermind behind some of the greatest scandals in the world. Once, he had been just a boy searching for love from a tyrant that was incapable of feeling such things. It took years of nurturing the darker urges inside of him that Uilleam had finally changed to the point that he was no longer the innocent child he had once been.
Most days, Kit wasn’t sure what he was.
But it hadn’t mattered, because Kit loved him dearly, and despite not agreeing with nearly every decision Uilleam made, he often found himself cleaning up his messes when the time called for it.
Watch after your brother, their mother had always instructed him with narrowed eyes, as though she thought he was too daft to understand what she was saying. But if there was nothing else he shared with the woman that gave birth to him, he shared her love for his younger brother.
For a while, Kit had blindly allowed his brother to do as he pleased, not caring as long as it didn’t affect his work back when he was with the Lotus Society.
But after one particular incident that left twelve people dead and buried in unmarked graves, Kit had finally decided that enough was enough and it was time for him to walk away. And to ensure he could do this with as little fallout as possible, he burned the only connection that connected their two businesses—literally.
It had also grown rather tiresome having the legion of enemies Uilleam possessed constantly trying to see not only the man dead, but anyone that did business with him.
Which usually included Kit.
“It’s complicated,” Kit finally answered as he blew out a breath.
And it was, because like so many times in the past, when Uilleam came to him for a favor, he had a hard time saying no.
Now weeks later, he was partly glad he had agreed to Uilleam’s request.
Luna was, in her own way, fascinating to him.
“Is it?” Zachariah asked rubbing his bushy mustache. “Would that complication have anything to do with that girl that left out of here?”
“Not necessarily.”
Though she did make up a significant part.
Zachariah sighed. “Whatever Uilleam has planned, I don’t think you should be getting in the middle of it. It’s one thing going up against enemies we know, it’s an entirely different matter when it’s ones you don’t. Your brother’s going to be the death of me.”
Uilleam would be the death of them all if they weren’t careful.
“I’ll keep an eye on what he’s doing and try to find out anything on what he has planned. If it’s something worth knowing, I’ll inform you.”
“And the girl?” Zachariah asked.
“I’ll train her as I said. She may be weak in body, but her mind is another matter.” She wasn’t folding just yet, and that showed promise. “Once I think she’s ready for you, I’ll send her to the compound for your final approval.”
His uncle grunted his affirmation before getting to his feet. “I’ll see you in a month’s time.”
“She won’t be ready by then,” Kit said. “How you manage to cram years’ worth of study into such a short period of time, I’ll never know.”
Some of the mercenaries that came out of the Den were highly skilled, though green when it came to the savage parts of their jobs. Often, Kit didn’t think they were ready to see field time—it had taken him more than a year before he was even given his first assignment.
“When do you expect to be ready then?” Zachariah asked. “You can save me unnecessary trips.”
“Six months at the earliest.” There was a lot of ground to cover.
La
ughing, Zachariah shook his head. “Uilleam is not going to like that.”
Kit shrugged. “You’ve often told me I shouldn’t concern myself with Uilleam’s feelings—why start now?”
Chapter 8
Luna didn’t see Kit again after Zachariah came, though the man didn’t stay very long. He had disappeared as quickly as the other man had, making Luna wonder where he had gone.
When had she begun to miss him?
Luna didn’t fully understand that this was the emotion she was feeling, not at first. She attributed it to melancholy, her desire to start training.
But, she soon realized that wasn’t the case because Aidra soon requested that she start exercising with the Wild Bunch. At first, that had been enough to deter her interest for a bit, but not long enough that she was no longer thinking about Kit.
It wasn’t until she found herself glancing out the windows every few hours, thinking that Kit would show up at any moment.
She missed him.
Missed seeing him every morning for breakfast.
Missed finding him down in the gym or the pool as he worked out.
And worse, he hadn’t been gone very long, not even a week.
Pathetic.
There were more important things to be worrying about—mainly the training that still hadn’t really started rather than where he was.
Already, her mind had seized on different ideas about what the training would consist of, but thoughts wouldn’t live up to the real thing, she knew.
But until Kit was ready …
As had become her custom, she was tucked away in the library when Kit finally returned, finding her in her usual spot.
There was something different about him—maybe it was the way he walked, with a sort of confidence that couldn’t be ignored. He didn’t stop until he was close enough to lean against the chair she sat in.
There was a touch of a smile on his lips as he asked, “Would you like a gift?”
Sometimes, Kit said things that caught her off guard, but she was generally able to find an answer. This time, he’d stumped her. “Sorry?”
“A gift—would you like one? I can’t imagine you’ve had many over the last three years. If you’d like, you can consider it an early birthday present.”
“Thanks, but why are you giving me a gift?”
He had a gentle expression as he said, “I could say it has something to do with your training, but that wouldn’t be entirely true, would it? My motives are completely selfish.”
Luna almost laughed. “Kit, you’re not making any sense.”
“Then let me show you.”
He offered her his hand, palm side up.
Kit didn’t force her to take it, nor did he ask her to, merely stood there and waited as though he knew the inevitable.
After the briefest of hesitations where she wondered just what kind of gift he had for her, she took his hand.
Luna stayed a couple steps behind him even as she kept hold of his hand, following him out of the library and down two flights of stairs until they were walking alongside the pool towards a hidden archway that she hadn’t noticed until now.
The temperature had seemed to drop during their journey down, but she didn’t complain, nor did she question what was happening.
There was a set of doors at the end of the hallway, heavy metal with a handle like that of a bank vault. There was even a magnetic keypad to the right of it that Kit had to lay his hand on before gears shifted, and the door started opening itself.
It wasn’t until the gap grew bigger, the muscles in his arm straining as he pushed the heavy metal open that she could hear the muffled screams coming from inside.
Not just from one she realized the further she stepped into the room, but seven.
Seven men.
And their faces … she didn’t think she could ever forget their faces.
Now, their expressions were more subdued, sweat dotting their brows as terror reflected in their gazes.
Oh no, she could never forget those faces.
The way they used to smile and jeer, their excitement freely visible when Lawrence gave them permission to abuse her in any way they saw fit.
How eager they had been at the proposition of taking someone against their will.
Now, that excitement and joy and enthusiasm was gone, replaced with fear the likes of which she had never experienced firsthand.
And all that fear was because of Kit.
She could tell from the way they cowered when he entered the room, whimpers muffled behind cloth gags tied around their mouths.
Luna tried to muster up sympathy for them, but she felt none.
Their wrists and ankles were zip-tied, the hardened plastic digging so hard into their flesh that she could see chafed and bleeding skin as they struggled on the floor in an attempt to get free.
Though she came to a stop in the middle of the room, Kit still moved on around her, first closing the door until the metal lock clicked into place, then eased across the room with all the grace of a predator.
Of course he wouldn’t be bothered by the sight of the helpless men—he’d put them there—but there was something rather transfixing about the way he moved about as though the stench of their terror wasn’t permeating the air.
Kit was in his element.
His hands dropped to the hem of his shirt, fingers dragging up the material until he was pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, the muscles in his back flexing with the movement.
In the low light of the room, she could now see the dark ink of the tattoo that covered the entirety of his back.
Wings.
They were massive, so big that some of the feathers extended over his shoulders, and down the backs of his arms stopping just above his elbows. They were incredibly detailed, almost lifelike, from the shading to the way the feathers lay as if in movement. But what made them different from anything she had ever seen was the detail of the smoke, as though those wings were on fire.
They were magnificent.
A phoenix.
It wasn’t just a name for him—it was who he was.
“They’ll all die tonight,” Kit said as he jerked the slide back on the gun in his hand, “but how they die is entirely up to you.”
Luna didn’t know what to say, or even what to think as she glanced behind her at the Wild Bunch who stood idle against the back wall, wondering if this was a regular thing for them.
Bizarrely, Fang offered a thumbs-up.
“The choice is yours.”
Even as she turned back, staring down at men that had done the worst things to her, her mouth wouldn’t work.
“Don’t feel sympathy for those that don’t deserve it,” Kit said. “They didn’t.”
No, they hadn’t.
“Arnold,” she said with a point of her finger at one of the first men that Lawrence had invited into her suffering.
The man shook his head hard, tears spilling from his eyes as he begged behind his gag, his chest heaving with the force of his sobs, but he was put out of his misery soon enough as Kit pulled the trigger, the force of the bullet making the man’s head jerk back before he crumpled to the floor.
She watched his descent in surprise. Seconds was all it had taken to end his life—until he was nothing more than a shell.
As she had felt once …
The moment was made even sweeter as their looks of fear were turned on her because they realized that she held power over them now—even if her weapon was the man before her.
Luna pointed to another, and another.
It didn’t matter that they tried to shuffle away, to escape a death that was inevitable, but Kit’s aim never faltered.
By the time there was only one left, Luna was ready to raise her hand once more, but paused when she saw just who kneeled before her. There were just some faces one couldn’t forget, and Benjamin’s was one of them.
Oh, how eager he had been the first time Lawrence brought him into that speci
al room of pain.
I’m not a monster, he had said with a gentle smile, as though his attempt at faux sincerity would move her.
You’ll enjoy it, he promised when he’d patted the spot beside him.
I’ll take care of you, he whispered as he grabbed hold of her chain and forced her into a position of his liking.
But it wasn’t enough that he had wanted to use her, but he had gleefully called Lawrence over and very soon, his gentleness had turned to agonizing pain, and his “I’ll take care of you,” meant beating the shit out of her until she couldn’t move.
Unlike the others, he wasn’t begging for his life, nor were his eyes wet with tears. If anything, he looked angry.
Furious even.
Kit didn’t stop her as she went to the man, glad that he was restrained so she could pull the cloth from his mouth.
It was barely out of his mouth before he was spewing, “Stupid fucking whore.”
Luna flinched at the venom in his voice, but she didn’t back down, she didn’t curl into herself as she once would have.
But even as she stood her ground, those words still hurt—a reminder that no matter where she went or how much time passed, that word would always follow her around.
It hadn’t been that long since she was locked in the Kendall Estate, forced to do another’s bidding—weeks, in fact. Both he and Lawrence had loved using that title with her.
Whore.
As though that was all she was, and all she would ever be.
The word kept echoing over and over in her head, freezing her in place until she felt a hand slip beneath the fall of her hair, cupping her nape. She shouldn’t have known Kit’s touch, not this soon, but as quickly as she jumped in surprise at the sudden feel of his hand on her, she was settling again.
“Look at me,” he said next to her ear, not releasing his hold even as she slowly turned, aware that Benjamin was still spitting insults.
Gray eyes that seemed more blue in the dim lighting were trained on her, forcing her to focus on only him as he uttered one word.
“Breathe,” he said, as though it were that simple—as though his fingers weren’t curled around her throat.
As though because he commanded it, she was supposed to do it.
Den of Mercenaries: Volume One (The Mercenaries Book 1) Page 57