Ghosted (Team Zero #3) by Rina Kent

Mist opens her mouth to say something, but I’m not listening. I stagger around the corner and stumble inside the men’s room. My stiff, sweaty fingers lock the door behind me.

The room spins in a blinding, white light and other mismatched colours. Gutting pain snaps in my temples. It’s worse than being sliced open with a knife. And I know how that feels because I’ve been on the receiving end.

Blood continues dripping in my head, even after I close my eyes. Sweat coats my skin as I clutch my head in my hands.

But it won’t stop.

The withdrawal pain gets worse whenever I reduce the dose of Omega I take.

Blood continues dripping.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound is worse than the excruciating pain. The only way to make it stop is to draw blood.

I jam my fist at the wall. Shock reverberates through my knuckles.

I don’t stop.

I punch it again and again and again until blood covers my knuckles and paints the wall.

Pain explodes in my fists. Pain is good. Pain means I’m not under Omega’s control. Pain means I can remember what I do. I can survive without ending other people’s lives.

Even if it’s the last thing I do, I will get every Team Zero member off this poison. My life has no meaning beyond that. The ones who came with me already started going off it, but the others whom Hades is holding as hostages will need work.

I’m panting by the end of my punching session. Blood drips from my knuckles to the tiled floor. The ache in my head doesn’t cripple me anymore.

My forehead leans against the wall as I catch my breath. It’s over.

For now.

I didn’t have to cuff or lock myself up this time. I save that for when I take my minimised dose.

After I wash my hands, I reach for one of the cabinets and bandage my knuckles. It’s sloppy and barely hides the wound. Once done, I head to the party. Or more like, sneak to the back of the spacious room in which Kyle is holding his birthday party.

Deafening music fills the air, but the blue light is kept dim. In Kyle’s playboy style, he gathered all the girls around him. He even closed the club from business for his ‘epic’ birthday party.

Warmth fills me as I watch him grown up and healthy. He used to be all bones and tears when he was five. The other kids in The Pit beat him to within an inch of his life. I barely managed to save him. Then, I kicked all that weakness out of his system. If he wanted to survive, he needed to be strong. If not the strongest.

I was harsh and brutal with him. Even more than with the other disciples, because he was the weakest. Sometimes, I was under the influence of Omega, but Kyle understood why I trained him that way. He knew it was for his survival.

Since then, he’s never left my side.

He’s not Team Zero and therefore, he’s under no obligation to remain with Hades for Omega. Most second-generation assassins defected over the years, but Kyle stayed by my side and followed in my footsteps.

When I was on Omega and didn’t remember a thing, he made it his mission to tell me everything that happened.

People like me don’t deserve children, but I’ve been lucky enough to have Kyle consider me his father.

He’s currently competing with Shadow at downing shots while the girls cheer them on.

Mist is seated all alone at a back seat, head leaning against her fist as she watches all the girls like a hawk. She forgives anything except for the girls being harassed or forced to do something.

I’m about to sit beside her when I catch sight of electric blue eyes.

Firefly.

She’s hanging onto Kyle’s arm and smiling up at him with bubbly excitement – similar to Scar’s.

I squint. She lets go of Kyle to mix drinks with fluidity and ease, grinning from ear to ear. What is she planning now? With Kyle no less.

Accepting her was a bad idea after all. I want her nowhere near Kyle. Or Shadow. Or any of the guards.

Or myself, for that matter.

She should’ve stayed the bloody hell away. Just by looking at her, at those cheeks tinted in crimson and those eyes gleaming with brightness, I want her close.

I’m not supposed to want anyone close.

Although a big part of me itches to drag her out of that circle, I stride to Mist and sit beside her. She offers me a drink, and I swallow half of it down. The burn of the scotch provides a much-needed comfort.

I attempt to concentrate on the drink or Kyle’s obnoxious laugh or watch for signs of Shadow’s lethal withdrawal symptoms, but my gaze keeps flickering to Firefly.

The gentle sway of her hips. The way she tactfully slips away from Kyle’s touch. The inquisitive way her eyes are searching the place. Looking for what, I don’t know.

Probably trouble.

Her gaze meets mine, and she freezes. The bottle and the glass are suspended mid-air as those bright eyes fill with defiance.

That gaze is so rare in my world. The fire. The challenge.

I’m not touching her, but I can feel the pulse in her neck skyrocketing under my thumb. Those lips parting for me to slip my finger inside.

My trousers strain.

I fucking hate it. I don’t lust after suspicious women who could endanger my plans.

And yet, our eyes remain locked. She purses her lips as if exasperated by this connection as much as I am.

The moment ends when Kyle slips an arm around her waist. For an unexplainable reason, my mood darkens. The urge to go out there and yank her away almost overwhelms me.