by Rina Kent
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I guess she did.”
“No fucking way.” He reaches out to take her from my hand, but something vibrates. His phone.
He points a finger at Charlotte. “This isn’t over, Cheerio.”
I can’t help smiling when she huffs in response.
Even Crow appears a bit amused, but then, he checks his phone, and his expression closes. He stands, features darkening and posture straightening. He’s no longer the playful Crow, the sexy Crow or even the mean Crow.
His eyes are no longer sparkling with mischief. They lose their gleam and turn dead. Completely devoid of any sense of life.
I’m looking into the eyes of a killer. Someone who doesn’t even remember his name or his family because his entire existence revolved around ending people’s lives.
Even if he didn’t have a choice in becoming a murderer, he still is one.
A chill ghosts up my spine. I carefully stand and hold Charlotte close to my chest as if that will help me stay away from him.
I can’t believe I disregarded the killer side and kissed him with all that passion.
A part of me, a screwed stupid part, doesn’t care and would do it again if given the chance.
That part is an idiot.
“We’re going back,” he says in a detached tone, throws his phone in his pocket, and straddles his bike. He’s staring ahead, not even waiting for me to join.
I strap Charlotte in the helmet case and position myself behind him. The engine revs beneath us, and we hit the road. There is tension in his shoulders underneath my fingers as I cling to them. Although I’m still slightly scared by riding on this terrifying bike, all I can think about is what changed his mood.
Now that I think about it, Crow never mentioned who shot him that day. Why is he in France in the first place? Why did he have that seizure? Is it because of the mysterious drug in his bloodstream?
Countless questions and no answers.
Crow doesn’t kill the engine once we’re in front of the house. He stares in the distance, waiting for me to descend. I stand by the side of his bike, but the questions I want to ask don’t come out. Or more like Crow doesn’t give me the chance to ask anything.
He says, “Later,” and drives out of the gate, taking the road to town.
Shoulders sagged, I carry Charlotte inside, a million questions crossing my mind. The most important of all is: just what type of person is Crow?
It’s strange how much I want to know everything about him. If only I could push his buttons like he does mine.
Why would I want to push his buttons, anyway?
Instead of pondering on that, I decide to be useful. I stare at my house, my ancestors’ house, my family’s heirloom.
It’s time to do something about it.
Renewed energy pulses through my veins even after I scrub the entire ground floor. I stand at the threshold, staring at the shining cupboards and the not-so-shabby walls. But some of the wallpaper needs remodelling. For once, Papa’s picture isn’t staring at a dirty place. His little smile is overlooking a decent, clean reception area.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead and dry my hands on my apron. My gaze flickers to the pictures of Papa, Maman, and me. When they were gone, I thought I didn’t want to live anymore.
Crow proved to me that I didn’t want to die. No wonder why I was always reluctant about taking my own life. It’s the numbness that pushed me to those dark thoughts and complete surrender.
I’m strong enough to do something about it. This time, I won’t allow anything to happen to my home. This time, I will make Papa and Maman proud of me. Because this time, I’ll protect what they left for me with all my might.
I walk to the jar, retrieve a few pieces of paper and write.
‘I cleaned the house.’
‘I decided to try being alive.’
‘I had my first real kiss and it was a lot more thrilling than I could’ve imagined.’
The last note makes me nibble on the inside of my cheek as I place the folded papers in the jar.
My joints ache with pain after I finish cleaning the kitchen and fixing some of the broken wooden cupboards. An actual yawn escapes me when I give Charlotte her food.
Whoa. It’s been forever since I yawned. I check the time. Afternoon. My shift. I sigh. No rest for me.
After a shower, I grab my keys and head outside. I stand near the gate, searching in the distance. No sign of a bike or Crow.
My heart clenches, and it bothers me more than I like to admit.
I shake my head and settle in my car. Why would it bother me? Crow is just a stranger. A nobody.
Even as I tell myself that, I can’t help focusing on the sides of the road, hunting for a mere sight of him. When he doesn’t show, the uneasiness in my chest almost suffocates me.
The sensation doesn’t leave me even as I do my rounds in the hospital or listen to Céline as she talks about her daughter.
Has Crow returned by now? Is everything all right?
Ugh. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?
Crow is an assassin. He tried to kill me – even if deep down, I know he did that to push me to my limit. He’s good at pushing people to their limits. And yet, that doesn’t change who he is. What he is.
I seriously need to stop thinking about him. One day, he will leave and I’ll be on my own all over again.
The thought lodges a shard straight to my chest.
“Are you listening, Eloise?”
My attention snaps back to Céline. I wasn’t even focusing on what she said.
“Mais oui.” I smile.
“Mais non.” She nudges me with a pencil as we sit beside each other in the call room. For once, she’s not asleep. Lucky for her, there isn’t much to do tonight.
“I was saying.” Céline pushes rebel red strands off her forehead and scoots closer as if to share France’s national secret. “The blood sample Dr Bernard sent to the laboratory in Paris disappeared. Comme l’air.”
My shoulders straighten. Crow’s blood sample. The drug in his system. “How?”
“I don’t know.” Céline appears deep in thoughts. “What makes it even weirder is that the blood sample in our lab disappeared, too. There’s no trace to investigate that drug.”
Did Crow do this? But he never left for Paris, at least not since he came to live with me. It’s like someone is making sure no information is accessible about the drug.
Is that why Crow’s expression changed drastically after receiving the text?
I shake my head. These questions will drive me mad. I leave Céline to get coffee from the hospital’s cafeteria. The coffee isn’t that good, but it’s something to distract me from all these chaotic thoughts.
At this time of the night, the cafeteria is empty. Only a few interns are huddled around a table in the back, trying to fight sleep by consuming copious amount of caffeine. On my way to pour myself a coffee, a broad frame bumps into me. Pain explodes in my shoulders.
He’s dressed in a hoodie, face covered by the shadows. No features come into view.
“I have one piece of advice for you,” he says in a perfect British accent as he passes me. The voice is so familiar, but I can’t pinpoint it. “Run.”
11
Crow
Facing the marina, I lean against my bike, clutching the files Celeste has sent me.
There’s no mistaking it.
The scheme forms loud and clear as I stare at the coroner’s report of Paul’s corpse.
Prior to the blowing up of the storage, Paul was cut open from his collarbone to his navel. That’s what The Pit’s assassins do when leaving a message. More specifically Team Zero. We’re the one who invented this tactic and taught it to the other assassins.
I don’t know who the fuck started this gruesome method. Whoever they were, the idea must’ve come up while they were on Omega.
Paul was killed by one of our own. One of my own. Someone close wants me dead and ki
lled Paul to hide their tracks.
The Pit. Team Zero. Hades.
I have no idea who to trust anymore. Not that I completely trusted anyone before. We’re all warped in the head. Sometimes, I don’t even trust myself.
I was never attacked after that shooting, so I don’t have much evidence about who wants me dead. It’s not hard to narrow it down, though.
Ghost.
He’s the only one who’s been here. Why would he want to kill me? Why would he cover up my withdrawal and even tell me about his? It would’ve been easier to let Hades take care of me. Besides, Celeste is very close with Ghost. She must’ve known I would suspect him, and therefore, she wouldn’t have sent me these files.
But Celeste and Ghost are both elusive as fuck. No one knows what’s going on in their brains.
Theories bang through my head, and I have no definite proof about who might be after my life. I retrieve a lighter, burn the files, and let them sink in the water of the marina.
Whoever they are, let them come after me. I’m ready to rip their heads off of their shoulders and show them what it’s like to fuck with me.
When I go back to the house, it’s well after sunrise. Since Ghost is not answering his phone, I’ve been roaming around, trying to get his attention. Either he’s doing well at hiding or I’m rubbish at drawing underground attention.
Either way, this isn’t over. Team Zero’s members never go against each other – for a good reason. Our skill level is basically on par and we all don’t give two fucks about death. That fearlessness caused by Omega makes us deadlier than the second generation. Most of them kept some of their humanity.
We didn’t.
If Ghost and I clash, one of us will die. If it’s me, I’ll make sure to cripple him so he won’t be able to move without remembering me.
I open the front door of the house and stand rooted in place. A sweet smell of jasmine wafts in the clean and tidy reception area. The curtains are pushed back, allowing sunrays inside. No dust blurs the tall windows. Early hours’ sun shines through them.
Someone has been cleaning.
I smile. This means Eloise is taking staying alive seriously, right?
The last thing I wanted to do after tasting those divine lips was leave, but the report about Paul threw me in a fucking loop. I’ve been agitated and on the edge since.
Barks greet me at the threshold. Cheerio’s tail is wiggling back and forth, seeming happy to see me. I glare at her. The dog must have a plan, like wanting to bite my hand off. And yet, when she keeps moving her head, demanding to be patted, I sigh and lift her in my arms.
“You’re not going to be a bitch today?”
She woofs, angling her head so I would scratch under her chin.
I’m about to put Cheerio down when a cool lilac scent twitches my nose. Abandoning Omega has made me more aware of my surroundings, but with Eloise, it’s a lot more powerful. I feel like I can sense her even if she’s countries and continents away.
So fucking soppy.
Still carrying Cheerio, I follow the scent like a bloody dog. Eloise is around the corner outside, painting the lower part of the patched wall in white.
Concentrated lines settle on her forehead as she drags the paint roller up and down. My hand twitches to push those rebel strands of hair off her forehead. She’s wearing another pair of jean shorts. The dark blue colour accentuates her skin tone. The cloth hugs those enticing hips and highlights her toned legs. My body leaps to attention.
Fucking traitor.
Cheerio wiggles free from my hold, leaps to the ground, and nudges Eloise’s leg.
Fucking traitor number two.
“Hey.” Eloise stops mid-rolling, her eyes gleaming with a thousand questions.
“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” I ask to prevent her from asking anything.
“I don’t sleep.” She goes back to painting. “I mean I do, for maybe one hour or two but then, I just keep tossing and turning.”
Huh. It’s like the effect Omega forced upon us. We were like a superhuman who barely needed any rest. Messing up the biological clock must be one of the main reasons why the drug ends up destroying our bodies from within.
“I don’t sleep much either.” I frown. Why the hell had I told her that? It so screwed up how much I always find myself searching for any type of connection with her.
Eloise smiles as she continues painting with slower strokes.
I catch sight of the words written on her light blue T-shirt.
C’est la vie, pas le paradis.
This is life, not heaven.
God, I’m so proud of her. And I don’t even know why the fuck I would be proud of her. I’m just glad she’s not throwing her life away. She’s trying to change and do something.
I remove my leather jacket and hang it on a wooden chair on the side. “Let me help.”
Eloise’s head whips my way, but she doesn’t hand over the paint roller. “I can do it on my own.”
“I know you can, but I want to help.”
“But—”
I snatch the roller from her hand. Otherwise, this stubborn woman will keep arguing until infinity and fucking beyond.
“You can be gentle, you know.” She folds her arms, outlining the curve of her breasts.
It takes all my will to rip my gaze from her and focus on mixing the paint. “Gentle isn’t one of my qualities.”
She huffs. “Obviously.”
My lips quirk. “Unless you beg.”
Her cheeks turn a deep crimson as she swallows audibly.
Fuck me.
There’s such an adorable innocence about her that makes me want to devour her. Fully. Thoroughly.
The more she keeps drawing me in, the less I want to let her go.
Now that I experienced how fucking addictive she tastes or how right she feels in my arms, it’s becoming bloody torture to stop contemplating the countless ways I can tarnish her innocence.
I chase those thoughts and try to focus on the wall – which is turning into blurry lines.
“I-I will go get something to drink.” She heads towards the house, Cheerio in tow.
My head tilts to the side as I check out her behind until she’s out of sight.
Fucking hell.
I’m acting like a damn teenager over this woman.
Get a grip, Crow.
Eloise takes her sweet arse time to return. In fact, she only comes back, carrying a few cans of beer, after I’m nearly finished with the entire wall.
“Did you fetch them from town?” I mock. Pushing her doesn’t help my raging desire to have her, but I can’t help it.
I guess I really am a fucking teenager around this woman.
She sets the beer cans on a small stool, opens one, and gulps about half of it before she makes eye contact. “You’re not funny.”
“Never claimed to be, Nurse Betty.”
“Stop calling me that!” she hisses before chugging the rest of the beer and crushing the can.
I lean close until I breathe alcohol on her. “The answer is no.”
She swallows, her breathing turning shallow. One deviation of my head and I’d capture those seductive lips. This time, I won’t be letting her the fuck go. The urge is so strong that no other thought occupies my mind.
Before I can act on the impulse, Eloise breaks eye contact and steps back to sit on the chair. She opens another beer and takes a long swig. That’s supposed to be my beer, but the show keeps my mouth shut.
Her lips glisten with the liquid, and my tongue itches to lick them clean.
I focus back on painting the wall. More aggressively than earlier. I need to finish this as soon as possible and make myself scarce. All without trying to steal a look at Eloise.
A bloody challenge.
Sweat trickles down my face, and I lift the front of my T-shirt to wipe it away.
I catch Eloise staring at my stomach, her beer suspended near her mouth.
“Like what you see?”
She coughs, beer splattering all over and around her. When she lifts her head, her eyes are blazing. “You’re ...”
“Irresistible?”
“More like an arrogant bastard.”
I smile, thinking about a witty remark to push her buttons further when a distant pain starts building at the back of my head. The space spins in endless circles.
Withdrawal. Fuck.
My hold tightens around the roller, but it falls from my grip and splashes paint on the ground. I sway, about to follow it, but I clutch the wall for balance.
“Crow?” Eloise stands, abandoning her beer.
I close my eyes to not get caught in the blurry world surrounding me. I need to lock myself in my room until this passes.
“Crow?” Eloise’s spooked voice calls again. “This isn’t funny.”
It isn’t supposed to be.
I’m about to brush past her when something in the pocket of her shorts catches my attention.
The withdrawal’s chaos momentarily hushes to the background as I reach out for the card. My heartbeat thunders louder than my harsh breaths.
“W-what are you doing?” Eloise asks when my hand dives into her shorts’ pocket.
Joker’s card.
If one of Team Zero has a target who’s an easy or a boring kill, they’d place a red Joker card on them. The rest of Team Zero have to compete to kill the target. It’s our favourite sport.
And now, Eloise is a target.
My head nears exploding and a full body tremor takes hold of me. I grit out, “Where did you get this from?”
Eloise blinks. “I don’t know. It’s the first time I’ve seen it.”
Fuck. Fuck! They must’ve broken into her locker and placed this in her shorts while she worked.
“Think carefully,” I clutch Eloise’s shoulders, my tone a lot harsher than I intend. “Have you noticed anyone strange watching or following you?”
It’s a long shot but I hope whoever placed this was sloppy.
“No.” She nibbles on the inside of her cheek. “Except...”
“What?” I grind out against the pain threatening to take over my skull.