Ghosted (Team Zero #3) by Rina Kent

“A weakling like him.” Scar motions at the dead man. “Shouldn’t be able to injure me. I’m losing time and my reflexes shut down sometimes. Does it happen to you?”

Shadow and I shake our heads. Then, Shadow grins with mischief. “You’re probably turning into an old hag like Mist. Baby face doesn’t mean baby age, Doll.”

“Fuck you, arsehole.” She storms off to her room.

“Not interested, Doll!” he shouts after her. “Crazy doesn’t turn me on.”

Speaking of who’s driving me crazy. I retrieve my phone and dial Elle. The first ring isn’t even over before she answers.

“Julian? Is that you? Are you okay?” Her words tumble over each other so fast, I barely make them out.

A strange sensation that’s so freakishly similar to warmth fills me. No one has ever been worried about me before. “I’m fine. You?”

“Totally okay. No one came over. I’m just huddled in our room.”

Our. Fuck me. She said our room, not your room.

As if realising what she just said, Elle goes completely quiet. I can almost feel her stiffen.

Before she can ruin it, I say, “I’ll take care of a few things then return.”

“Yeah, sure. Not like I have anywhere to go.”

A smile is playing on my lips as I hang up. She’s strangely the only thing that keeps me afloat in this chaos. Even if she drives me fucking crazy with her stubbornness.

Shadow is tilting his head to the side, watching me with a scowl. “Don’t you think you’re trusting her too much?”

“What?”

He fingers his gun. “There’s a nagging feeling like I know her.”

“And I shouldn’t trust her because of that?”

He’s toe-to-toe with me in a second. His face is cold, but he speaks in a levelled tone. “You shouldn’t trust her because she’s suspicious as hell. One of the lads caught her eavesdropping near the control room the other day. She followed me yesterday and she’s too close to Scar. No one gets close to the level of Scar’s crazy without a deal in between. And before you say it, I know you asked Scar to keep an eye on her, but Scar doesn’t do things just because you ask her. She always has an ulterior fucking motive.”

My shoulders tense. The only reason I’m not punching Shadow in the nose is because we go way back. “If you consider yourself my mate, you will never talk about Elle that way again.”

“What way? I’m stating facts.” He lifts a shoulder. “Whether you believe them or you’re too blinded to see them is up to you, mate.”

“Shadow...”

“No. I don’t fucking care what you think, Ghost. If she endangers your life in any way, I will break her bloody neck.”

Fucking Shadow. If it weren’t for his loyalty to me, I would’ve gutted him for even thinking about hurting Elle.

I suck in a breath and motion outside. “Come on. Let’s see if there’s anyone left to question.”





There’s no one. They were either killed or they escaped.

I’m all bloodied – mostly thanks to Scar, and the gash in my bicep keeps pulsing with pain.

Shadow gives me two pills, and I drown them with a glass of scotch.

Shadow and I are personally guarding Kyle’s room. My friend is fussing with a first aid box while drinking from straight from a bottle of scotch. I throw my weight beside him on the sofa across from Kyle’s bed.

He’s lying on his stomach, skin pale and lids closed. There’s a barcode on his shoulder, his identification tattoo designed for the second generation; a way to differentiate them from us. Kyle has number 130. That’s 130 children kidnapped into The Pit to form the second generation and the number continues to shoot up.

The sheet covers Kyle’s lower half. A bandage is wrapped around the middle of his back where he’s been shot.

Aaron Rhodes, one of my second generation disciples who studied medicine, said the shot isn’t serious. There’s no danger on Kyle’s life, but he still hasn’t woken the fuck up.

The worst part is that I haven’t found whoever did this to him.

My shoulders tense and pain throbs in my bicep, but I snatch the bottle of scotch from Shadow and pour another drink.

“Hey, I was drinking from that.” He grumbles.

He’s about to say something else, but he’s cut off when the door opens and Mist saunters inside. A tired look covers her features, but she already changed out of her bloodied robe and into a simple black dress – to not scare the girls, I’m sure.

She sits on the edge of Kyle’s bed and casts a glance at him before facing me. “The girls are terrified. I barely calmed them down.”

“You managed to do that with a makeup-free face?” Shadow mocks. “How did they recognise you with all those wrinkles?”

“Shut up, filth.” She meets my gaze. “What the hell was that attack all about?”

“President Joe asking for his death, that’s what.” Shadow throws a bunch of cleaners and bandages my way. I doubt he even knows what they’re for.

“It’s not President Joe.” I unbutton my shirt and remove it. The cloth rubs against the wound, and I grunt. Dried blood covers the injury, but it looks worse than it actually is. I don’t even need stitches.