Ghosted (Team Zero #3) by Rina Kent

The bullet hits the bulky man’s shoulder. Blood drips down his chest. He meets my gaze and his eyes widen, in horror or surprise, I can’t tell, but he recognises me. I have no time to finish him off. He staggers and flees from the backdoor. Fuck. A witness.

My mind jumbles with options. I must follow and kill him. Leaving no traces behind is the reason Team Zero is highly efficient. But if I do, Elle will be alone and unconscious with Johnny.

Not an option.

Johnny squeaks like the pussy he is. His hand with the gun shakes as he aims towards the window — but I already left.

I slip through the back door and point the gun at Johnny’s nape.

He jolts and raises his hands in the air. His gun clinks to the floor. “P-please don’t kill me.”

The urge to do just that and end the scum’s life once and for fucking all darkens my vision. He dared to touch Elle, not once, but twice. In front of my fucking eyes.

“President Joe will avenge me,” Johnny mumbles. “You just started a fucking war, Ghost. Those were two of his most trusted men.”

The shroud of red dissipates progressively. I came here to prevent a war and I just triggered it.

Fuck.

Elle is on the ground, unconscious. Her nose is bleeding and her lips are swollen. Because of this bastard. And yet, I can’t kill him because he’s President Joe’s right hand and the witness must be running to him with the news now. Any reckless move on Johnny and I’ll endanger the girls in Le Salon.

The entire district, for that matter.

I clutch Johnny’s shoulder and turn him around so hard, he releases another squeaky sound. “Why the hell would you do that to her?” I motion at Elle.

“Why else? She’s the bitch who kicked me in the dick.” He snarls despite his reddening face. “Fucking twice!”

I grab his broken wrist and squeeze through the cast until he releases a hiss of pain. “Nothing more?”

He grunts. “Aside from wanting to fucking break her neck, nothing.”

“Listen well.” I twist his wrist until a pop sounds. He screams. “That girl is under my protection now. Touch her again and it won’t be just a kick to your dick. Understand?”

He nods frantically, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

When I let him go, he runs to the exit. Once he’s at the threshold, he shouts over his shoulder. “You still got yourself a fucking war, Ghost. Hold on to your bitch while you can!”

Kill.

Kill.

Kill him.

I inhale deep and suppress the urge. One day, I will, but not now. Too many fucking things at stake.

Johnny may be a pussy, but he has power. A power he gained by building an army of teenage thugs and drug dealers and keeping the organisation afloat while President Joe was away. He’s also the first in command, so he’s off the table.

For now.

With a resigned sigh, I turn towards Elle’s unconscious body and her bleeding face. The compulsion to run after Johnny and finish his fucking life almost overwhelms me.

It’s a miracle that I manage to tuck my gun away and wrap my arm around her shoulders. Her fist swings my way. Since her eyes are closed, her strike is weak and unfocused, but she still tries to punch me.

Fucking hell. This woman is really a fighter.

I squeeze the soft spot in her carotid artery. Choke-outs are convenient in times like these. Not long after, she falls limp. Her head lolls on my chest and her breathing evens out.

Now that she angered Johnny, he’ll be coming back for her. Even if it takes everything he has. His ego is bigger than President Joe’s greed.

Stupid people who also happen to be arrogant are dangerous. Her life is now at stake.

I remove a strand of hair from her face. I’ve always been neutral about blood or drawn to it due to Omega. But the blood marring her cheeks and nose is the most disgusting view I’ve seen.

I place my hand under her legs and the other behind her back. She fits so perfectly in my arms like she always needed to belong here.

Which is so damn wrong.

I don’t give two fucks about women. Yet, I just started a war for this one.

Would I do it again?

Absolutely.





Chapter Eight





My temple throbs. A groan rips from the back of my throat as I crack my eyes open. A dim-lit room comes into view and it smells of... masculine scent? It should be the usual rosy perfume Scar bathes the room with.

Where am I? Have I been beaten up in a fight or something?

Flashes of those pigs restraining me stab my pounding head. Thick fingers crawl on my arms like insects. Someone detains me, banging my head against the wall, attempting to –

I jerk up, my fists clenching in a defensive position in front of my face. No one comes in sight. No Johnny or his buff men.

My lower lip feels swollen and puffy and my nose is partially clogged. I can hardly breathe.

Those arseholes did a number on me.

I massage my aching head and try to remember what happened after I kicked Johnny. One of his men banged my head against the wall, and then it was black.

I wince as my temples pulse.

No. Not entirely black. Someone tried to take me, and I punched him and then...

Nothing.

I remember absolutely nothing. Except for... relief. I felt safe when he carried me. That’s weird. That was a red light situation. Why would I feel relaxed enough to pass out?