Team Zero Series 1-3 Boxed Set

by Rina Kent

  I grab the doorframe for balance. That’s exactly Zoe’s way of talking. If Zoe told Shadow about the lake house and my nickname, then there’s no way she considered him an enemy. But then...

  “You betrayed her?” I shout. “You killed her to shut her up.”

  “I didn’t hurt her!” He sounds insulted and in pain. He rakes tense fingers through his hair, his tattooed-biceps flexing. Then, he lets out a long breath. “If anything, she hurt me.”

  He shoves a hand in his jeans’ pocket and retrieves a note. I almost cry when I make out Zoe’s neat handwriting.

  Shadow,

  You’ve broken me. I hope you break until no pieces are left to put you back together again. Monster.

  Zoe.

  I narrow my eyes on Shadow, wanting to ask him a hundred questions. My mind fills with a thousand theories about whatever the hell happened between him and Zoe, but it’s clear from the note that he wasn’t the cause behind her disappearance.

  Finding out what happened to her is more important. I can punch him later for whatever ‘You’ve broken me’ means.

  “Let’s watch the footage together,” I suggest. I’ve never seen pain on Shadow’s face, but it’s loud and clear in his agitation. He seems like he genuinely cares about Zoe. Besides, I would rather have an ally instead of an enemy in him.

  He gives a curt nod. “I will fetch my laptop.”

  “Shadow?”

  He halts and throws a look over his shoulder. “What?”

  I nibble on the inside of my cheek. “Are you going to tell Julian about this?”

  “This?” He appears puzzled, then that satanic look darkens the grey of his eyes. “You mean the fact you’re using him to find your friend?”

  “No! I’m not using him.” My palms turn sweaty and my heart squeezes. “Maybe at the beginning, but not after.” Now, I have these stupid feelings for him that I’m scared to admit even to myself.

  Shadow faces me and crosses his arms. “You won’t hurt him.”

  It isn’t a question or a request. He’s stating a fact.

  And then I see it. In the darkening of his eyes and the tension in his body. The loyalty. The killer. Shadow would kill without second thoughts for Julian. I’ve no doubt that he’d finish my life if I’m deemed disadvantageous to Julian.

  “I won’t.” I have no intention of hurting Julian.

  “Since you’re Zoe’s friend, I’ll give you two days to tell him yourself. If you don’t, I will.”

  Fair enough.

  While Shadow goes to bring the laptop, my mind crowds with thoughts about how to tell Julian. I pace the room back and forth.

  Will he forgive me? Will he throw me away?

  The last option shrinks my heart.

  Shadow returns with a laptop, and I manage to tuck thoughts about Julian’s reaction to the back of my mind.

  We sit next to each other on the edge of the bed. The laptop rests on Shadow’s thighs as he plugs in the flash drive. My legs bounce while I wait for the feed to start.

  This is it. I finally have a lead to where Zoe could be.

  Although Shadow’s movements are precise, I catch the gloom shrouding his face. Even his pupils are slightly dilated.

  Who knew he would be worried about Zoe almost as much as me?

  “There could be nothing here,” Shadow says, and I don’t know if it’s to console me or himself. “We could be making a castle out of a molehill.”

  I smile despite myself. “You mean making a mountain out of a molehill?”

  “Same thing.” His expression tenses as the feed starts. Several cameras. All in each wing.

  Shadow fast forwards the video of the first floor camera. Nothing much happens and there’s no trace of Zoe. He then checks the second floor camera. After a bit of fast forward, my breath hitches.

  A blonde appears with Mist near her office. I squint as Shadow stops the fast forward and zooms in. Those huge green eyes and soft features are distinctively familiar. Zoe. I’m holding back my tears at finally seeing her. Even if only through a security feed.

  Mist remains motionless in that haughty posture while Zoe appears agitated. I can’t read much of her expression because the camera’s angle isn’t optimal, but she’s watching her surroundings. Then, Mist ushers her inside the office.

  “The fucking old hag,” Shadow mutters and fast forwards. Zoe emerges alone after half an hour, crying.

  Shadow curses again and I want to do the same. I’m barely stopping myself from running to Mist and breaking her face.

  Zoe heads to the stairs leading to the third floor but stops short at the corner. Her eyes widen and more tears stream down her cheeks. Shadow moves the camera to see what made her that way.

  It’s him.

  Shadow is talking to Kyle. His T-shirt is bloodied and his expression murderous as if he was butchering someone. Zoe hides in the corner, and when he leaves, she keeps watching his back for a full minute. Even after he disappears from view. Then she crouches to the ground and hides her face between her hands. I don’t have to see it to know she’s crying her eyes out. That’s what Zoe does when she’s devastated. Only she never lets me or anyone see it.

  My scowl falls on Shadow. What the hell did he do so she would hide from him but also long after him? His hooded gaze stops me from lashing out. I’ll ask Zoe once we find her.

  After a few minutes, Zoe staggers to her feet and takes the stairs up to her room with Scar. She comes out after an hour or so, dressed in a black dress.

  We follow her from one camera to another. She takes the stairs to the rooftop. My breathing almost stops.

  Shadow’s tense fingers type in for the rooftop’s camera. It’s dark and I can hardly make out Zoe’s blonde strands blowing in the wind and her shadowed face. She stands in the middle of the rooftop, hands wrapped around her middle. She remains there, unmoving, as if she’s waiting for something.

  Or someone.

  A man appears from the entrance. Out of bloody nowhere. I assume he’s a man anyway, because he’s tall and broad and wears a hood. His entire face is swallowed by darkness.

  Shadow’s fists clench and so do mine.

  The hooded man obviously moves silently since Zoe doesn’t turn around. Not even when he reaches into his hoodie.

  “Zoe, run!” I shout as if she can hear me.

  She turns around. The man stands in place and aims his gun at her chest.

  “Nooooo!” I screech.

  He pulls the trigger.

  Zoe falls limp on the floor.

  The camera goes black. And so does my world.

  24

  Ghost

  I sit across Kyle’s bed. “Who was it?”

  A single ray of light slips from between the thick curtains. The doctor, Aaron, recommended exposing Kyle to sunlight, but it isn’t worth the risk of snipers. Even if I strengthened the security around Le Salon.

  The weather is all overcast, anyway.

  Kyle groans. His face has regained some colour. No more pasty skin or bluish lips. However, he’s still lying on his stomach. The bandage covers half his back like a whiteboard. Aaron has him on strong medication and Kyle obviously hates it.

  He will heal.

  This is his third gunshot. Once you survive the first two, you kind of become invincible.

  Or that’s what we tell ourselves in Team Zero.

  “Didn’t see their faces,” he croaks. With another grunt, he attempts to support himself on an elbow so he can reach the bottle of water on the nightstand. His strength fails him and he falls back on his face. “Bleeding hell. This is worse than I thought.”

  “How can you be this careless, Kyle?” I hold the bottle for him, with a straw as Scar insisted – after she made my ears bleed for disallowing her or anyone to visit Kyle.

  I only did that for precaution. He’s already been shot. I won’t allow anything else to happen to him.

  Kyle takes a sip and lets his head fall to the pillow.

  “It w
as a shot to the back, Godfather, remember? Not like I had a say in the matter.”

  Still, Kyle’s reflexes are good enough that he won’t be taken by surprise. Especially not by President Joe and Johnny’s gangsters or even mercenaries. We’re experienced assassins. Kyle might not have taken Omega, but he was trained extensively before he learnt what the hell life is all about.

  In fact, he doesn’t know much about what life is all about. He’s one of the few second-generation assassins who stayed with Team Zero. We’re the wrong crowd to hang out with. We might tolerate each other, but the second generation either avoid or fear us. No one likes our level of crazy or the gruesome killings we do when on Omega.

  Not Kyle. He’s been there only because he considers me his godfather.

  I was selfish enough to keep him by my side. Because I doted on him and saw a real son in him. And he helped in retelling me everything that happened while I was under Omega’s influence.

  It’s time to stop being selfish.

  There must be a way out for him. Like the second generation who defected. Team Zero is different. We’re fucked into this because of Omega and the rest of our team under Hades’ clutches. Kyle can find another life.

  I sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “Do you want out?”

  “Out of bed? Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  “No. Out of The Pit and this whole mess.” My tone is calm even though it pains me to imagine him gone. Like any normal father who sees his son leave, I suppose.

  Kyle squints, then says in a detached tone. “What did ye have in mind?”

  “The Rhodes defected and their family is powerful enough that even Hades has trouble hunting them down. Aaron and Tristan Rhodes are my disciples. I can ask them for a favour.”

  “Doesn’t Tristan hate you for teaching him how to kill?”

  “But Aaron likes me for it. That’s why he shows up whenever I ask for his doctor skills. Besides, Tristan is secretly thankful I taught him how to survive. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have escaped The Pit and taken over his family’s business. I can ask for a favour.”

  Kyle stares at me for long seconds. It’s deep and calculative; his usual expression when planning trouble. He finally says, “You hate asking for favours, Godfather.”

  “Not if it’s to keep you safe.”

  Kyle laughs then winces. “No need. I have no intention of leaving. Not now that all the fun is starting.”

  “A mafia war isn’t fun.”

  “Depends on which angle you look at it.” He’s grinning despite the clear pain on his face. “More importantly, when are we killing President Joe and his crew in their sleep?”

  “We won’t.”

  Kyle’s face contorts into confusion but also anger. The clear blue of his eyes hardens. “What do ye mean we won’t? They fucking shot me.”

  “We’re not sure about that. It doesn’t add up.” I form a steeple at my chin. “The mercenaries from the attack were clearly told to say President Joe’s name. Whoever paid them must be the same person who shot you and tried to blame President Joe. Someone is trying to trigger a war.”

  And a party of that is by my side. Mist and Shadow. Just thinking about that fills me with nausea.

  Silence prevails for a few seconds before Kyle grits out, “Why are you sure that it isn’t President Joe?”

  “He’s a smart businessman and I’ve given him a deal he can’t refuse. He would never risk my wrath because that means losing the factory. Besides, violence is always his last resort, not the first.”

  “He could’ve changed tactics to misguide you. I’m damn sure it’s him. Come on, Godfather. I need revenge.”

  I poke his bandage on a non-injured side, and he grunts. “You just focus on getting better. I promise to find out who did this to you and make them pay.”

  The door swings open and Mist barges inside. Wild strands of red hair fly all around her fired up cheeks. She didn’t tie her hair. That’s rare. The clicks of her heels fill the space.

  “Misty...” Kyle whines. “Help me convince Godfather to stop being a softie and –”

  “He’s dying!” She thrusts a phone in my face on which there’s a short video on loop. Hawk – or who I assume is Hawk – is chained to the ceiling of a white room in The Pit. He’s all bloodied, face swollen, and bare chest slashed. He’s hardly recognisable. Blood rivulets drip down his body and pool by his limp feet.

  My jaw tightens. Fucking Hades. He keeps sending these to Mist knowing exactly what chord he’ll be striking.

  “He’s fucking dying!” she shouts, then her voice dims to a whisper as if only saying the words to herself. “He could be already dead.”

  “He’s not.” I clutch her shoulder, trying to console her even if I have no idea how. “He’s strong, Mist. He’s Hawk.”

  Her eyes shoot my way, and they’re about to turn into the colour of her hair. She slaps my hand away and for the first time in ever, Mist swings her fist and punches me in the face. The gesture hurts more than the actual blow. Mist doesn’t punch me. Mist is my right hand, but maybe that’s not the case anymore.

  “This is the final warning, Ghost. If you don’t do anything, I will.”

  I tighten my teeth so hard, my jaw ticks. “Maybe you already have.”

  “Maybe.” She gives a pointed look then storms out.

  “Well, that went sour,” Kyle says after watching the exchange intently. “I told you that Mist isn’t to be reckoned with, Godfather.”

  I’m beginning to learn.

  “Rest well.” I leave his room and head down the hall. My steps are calm, but a war is raging inside me.

  I could’ve handled anything except the possibility of Mist and Shadow’s betrayal.

  With a sigh, I retrieve my phone and check the warehouse’s security feed. I planted a secret camera in there. No one knows about it except for me.

  Vladimir reported some strange activity at night. Meetings. Smuggling. I’m not sure. I don’t even trust Vladimir that much, but I have mutual respect with Nikolai, his Pakhan in the Bratva back in New York. He assured me that if any of his Bratva participated in attacking me, he’d do the honour of slaughtering them. Nikolai is a man true to his word from all the years I dealt with him. He only wants me to be his hitman again – because Ghost was efficient and well, a ghost. No one could find any evidence. But Nikolai would never endanger my wrath by attacking my turf. He’s not stupid.

  So, when Vladimir reported the strange activity near the warehouse, I sprang to action without anyone’s notice.

  I installed a camera to gather evidence. So far, there hasn’t been anything.

  I dial Shadow so we can work on the factory. His phone is turned off. I try Mist’s office. Neither of them are there. Only Flame is slumbering on the sofa, his head resting on his crossed forearms.

  “Have you seen Shadow?”

  Flame doesn’t open his eyes when he says, “Went with your girl. What was her name again? Emma... something.”

  My shoulders stiffen. “Elle.”

  “That’s the one.” He yawns. “Seemed urgent.”

  I’m running towards the safe house before I know it. Tension ripples through my back and my vision reddens.

  Shadow better not act on his threats and do any funny business to Elle. I don’t even want to think about what I’ll do if he hurts her.

  I’m at the threshold when steps sound from inside. I recognise the swift, fast footsteps as Elle’s. No one is with her.

  She strides out of the door. Her expression is closed and numb as if she’s tucked herself somewhere and is only showing the surface.

  She’s wearing shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt, and it’s fucking cold. But she doesn’t seem to care or notice.

  She continues her path, brushes past me, and doesn’t say a word.

  “Elle?”

  She shows no sign of hearing or seeing me and keeps marching forward as if on auto-pilot mode. That’s so disturbingly similar to the Omega version I’ve been fight
ing all this time.

  “Elle!” I clutch her arm and draw her to a screeching stop. I try to make her face me, but she’s wiggling free. She even throws random punches with no sense of focus or aim.

  “What happened?” I cage her face with one hand and bore my eyes into her dead, blue ones. “Did Shadow do something to you? Where is he?”

  “He left. I think.” Even her voice’s on auto-pilot. I want to shake her and bring out the firefly I know is lurking inside.

  “Talk to me, Firefly. What is it?” I tilt her head up so those mesmerising eyes are staring at me. Only now, they’re washed. If whoever did this to her is a person, I’ll gut them and slice them into pieces.

  “I have to go,” she says in a monotonous tone and tries to squirm free.

  “Go where?” My tone is harsh even when I try to restrain it.

  “I have to, Julian, please.” She meets my gaze and her bright blues fill with wretchedness and pleading. “She’s my family.”

  That calms me a little. This must be related to the friend she mentioned the other day.

  “I will drive you.” There’s no way in hell I’m letting her go on her own in the midst of all this danger.

  The entire drive is spent in complete silence. For a thousand times, I contemplate reaching out and hugging her. But she’s too numb to care. She’s bottling too many emotions and they will ruin her if she doesn’t release them. If only I knew what’s going on.

  We reach the house she’s given me the address for. It’s old and chipped. The gate is rusty. This is where she followed Shadow the other day.

  As soon as I stop the car, Elle hops outside and is already marching to the seemingly-abandoned house.

  She crosses the street, ignoring the car honks and pissed off drivers.

  I curse and follow suit as she produces a key from her shorts’ pocket and opens the gate. The metal cringes in protest.

  When I go inside, my gaze roams around the old-style house in the distance. There is a murky green lake in front.

  Elle is fussing with an old boat’s rope. I hop in with her and help in navigating towards the small house in the middle of the lake. At least that’s where I assume she’s heading since she keeps staring at it with deep longing.