Crowed (Team Zero #2) by Rina Kent

“You’ll never feel alive if you keep hiding,” I tell her to distract myself from that chain of thoughts.

There’s no response for a while as we pass a road on the side of the sea’s rocky shore. I increase the speed to propel us faster upwards. To the hill.

Eloise reluctantly pushes back, but her hold around my neck and waist doesn’t falter.

There’s still that innate fear of the unknown in her eyes, but there’s also curiosity. When she finally takes in our sparkling blue surroundings, the curiosity morphs into awe.

“Wow,” she says, gaze glued on the sea below.

“You lived here your entire life but never took this hike?”

“I did. My grandfather used to bring me here.” She faces me. The proximity makes me breathe her air, her addicting scent, and that little fear still locking her muscles.

I take it all. I want it all. I can’t imagine not having whatever she has to offer.

“I just haven’t been here in a long time,” she continues and goes back to admiring the view.

Good call. One more second staring into her eyes and I’ll get us both thrown off the cliff.

I stop at the top of the hill just in time for the orange hue to cover the horizon.

Eloise doesn’t move as she watches the sun rising from behind the sparkling blue sea.

I forget about the sunrise altogether and focus on something a lot brighter.

Eloise.

Her lips part and her eyes widen, the green reflecting the yellow and orange light in a mesmerising gleam. The steady rhythm of her chest against mine makes my erection hard to control.

“Merveilleux,” she murmurs, completely engrossed in the scenery.

“Marvellous indeed.” My breath brushes the side of her neck because I might have been unknowingly leaning forward and about to drool like a fucking dog.

Eloise’s attention flips my way, and as if just realising that she’s straddling my lap, she scrambles off the bike, cheeks tinted crimson.

That’s so fucking adorable.

“So, um...” She looks around, her back turned to the cliff and her front facing me. “What now?”

“Now,” I lean against my bike, “is secret time, love.”

“Huh?”

“You have to let it out to feel better. At least that’s what they say in therapy.”

A small smile tugs on her lips as she bites the inside of her cheek. “Have you even been to therapy?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

She shrugs. “I guess it doesn’t. But I won’t talk just because you told me to. You’re not my shrink.”

“That shrink of yours is doing a rubbish job. I’m a better alternative.”

“Still a no.” But she’s smiling which is a good sign. Time to bribe her.

“In return, you ask me anything.”

Her interest spikes and she steps forward. “Really?”

“Go ahead. Shoot.” Not that I have anything to reveal in the first place.

“What’s your real name?” she asks so fast, I barely register the question.

“I don’t have one.”

“Of course you do. Everyone does.”

“I’m not everyone. Even if I do, I don’t remember it.”

“Why not?” She leans on the bike beside me, her gaze as inquisitive as a curious kitten.

“Because I was taken into an assassination organisation in my early teens. Everything prior to that is a blur.”

She swallows audibly. “Even your family?”

“Even my family.” Patches of foggy memories – memories destroyed by Omega – come to mind. “I only remember that we were so poor, I slept on the streets sometimes. I think my mum or step mum or whatever was Russian since she always cursed in said language. And I had a cat. An orange stray cat that I took under my wing and named him ‘Orange’ because apparently, I lacked imagination back then.”

“You never tried to find them?”

“No.” I did think about it a couple of times, but the answer has always been ‘Fuck no’. What would I say? Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad. Remember the son you didn’t take care of who ended up being kidnapped? Well, surprise, bitches, I’m not dead, I became a killer instead. And oh, happy to see you again, but we might have to cut this reunion short because I’m living on a borrowed time due to Omega.

All this talk about me causes my skin to fucking crawl. Not that it should. I’ve been at peace with my past for a long time because I accepted The Pit as the place where I belong. But after the withdrawal and talking to that fucking Ghost, I’m not so sure anymore.

Speaking about this with Eloise of all people is making me question where I belong even more.

“Enough about me.” I pivot, so she’s in my vision. “Tell me about yourself.”

She remains silent, nibbling on her cheek.

“A deal is a deal, Eloise.”

A sigh rips from the recesses of her soul as her gaze gets lost in the sea. “I lived in the house my entire life with Papa et Maman. It’s been my paradise since I’ve been little. Then, we lost my grandfather. Although that shattered me, I still had Maman.”

“How about your father?”

She glances my way. “He’s British like you.”

“You don’t say.” I recognise my mocking tone and quickly follow up with, “I assume he’s the reason your English accent isn’t as horrible as the rest of the French.”