Shadowed (Team Zero #4) by Rina Kent

The black guard shows up next. He mumbles something I can’t hear. It convinces the Russian since he says something back and then they both disappear from sight.

A breath rips from deep within me.

That was freaking close!

Heat radiates down my back as a dark, sinister voice murmurs in my ear, “What are you doing?”

I jerk and whirl around. The door clicks closed with the motion. Shadow is leaning forward with one hand in his trousers’ pocket while the other is inert by his side. It’s a bit dark in here, and I have no idea what room we landed in, but I can make out the gloomy energy surrounding his handsome features.

The tiger tattoos are vibrant against the short sleeves of his white T-shirt. The strong veins in his forearms flex with tension or pent-up energy, I’m not sure.

His hand, the one not confined in his trousers, clenches and unclenches as if he’s stopping himself from something. What, I don’t know.

And I don’t want to find out.

I conjure what I hope will be a convincing laughter. “Nothing. Just a ruse. Forget about it.”

He leans closer, invading my space with his overbearing height and sinister, heart-wrenching look. He’s so much like the storm in his eyes – all mixed with a hurricane. It must be so easy for him to drag people in his orbit only so he can destroy them and spit them out.

Up close, he smells of something strong, musky, and that head-turning scotch. Seriously, since when did Scotch smell so hot?

His lips curve in a cruel smirk. “Do I look like the type of man who forgets, beautiful?”

Of course not.

What the hell was I even thinking? I could’ve pushed him without kissing him, now, couldn’t I? Only I wasn’t sure I’d take him off guard then, and I needed the element of surprise.

He edges even closer, and this time, I step back. My shoulders hit the door, and my back is glued to the wood. Shadow slams his palm near my head. I flinch and regret comparing him to a storm because he does turn into one. His smirk vanishes. His eyes darken to frightening smoke that’s about to erupt and suffocate anyone in their orbit.

His voice comes out chilling and monotone. “How do you intend to repay the psychological damage, Zoe?”

“Psychological damage? Aren’t you being a bit too dramatic?” I laugh again, but it’s forced and awkward. Probably because he’s too close, and even his infuriating smirk is gone. I preferred that to this smothering darkness.

My heart pounds, and I want nothing more than to run away from here.

From him.

“It was just a kiss,” I murmur. My fingers twirl a strand of my hair.

I’m annoyed and ashamed about how everything went. I’ve never initiated a kiss before, and the moment I do, it isn’t even reciprocated.

“Tell me, beautiful. If the roles were reversed and I kissed you out of nowhere, what would you do?”

“I’ll slap you.”

“Hmmm.” His wolfish smirk reappears. “So it’s not just a kiss.”

I purse my lips. “Fine. What do you want? Slap me? Go ahead. I don’t care.”

He raises his hand.

My eyes widen. He’ll actually slap me?

I clamp my lids and my lips shut. Better pay for my mistake and get it over with.

Silence grows between us like that one in horror films right before a character is killed. I wait for the blow and wait and wait.

Nothing happens.

I slowly peel my eyes open. Shadow is standing straight with both his hands in his pockets. Due to the position, his arms are in straight lines. The hint of light outlines his bulging biceps and the colourful tattoos spilling from his T-shirt’s sleeve.

He’s watching me intently with a raised brow like a predator sampling his prey. There’s something about the easy danger he emanates that drops my stomach and causes sweat to break out on my forehead.

This man is bad news. Super bad. He really is the monster Mum warned me away from.

“Don’t touch me without permission again,” he says in an authoritative tone.

He reaches for the doorknob, and I stumble away.

Shadow pushes past me with one last undecipherable glance.

I stare at his back and, not going to lie, that arse. He leisurely walks down the hall, uncaring and nonchalant. It’s like he owns half of the world and couldn’t give two fucks about the other half.

Only maybe he does.

Perhaps Shadow wasn’t playing a sick game. After all, he tried to control his reaction. Maybe he genuinely hates being touched.

Maybe, just maybe, his demons are as haunting as mine.





A week passes, and my integration in Le Salon isn’t as hard as I thought it’d be.

Or perhaps I’m underestimating how easily darkness can suck someone in.

I made it my mission to befriend the girls. Not only for information, but also because I always thirst for company. I’m better not left with my chaotic head or I’ll backpedal to muted, horrifying memories.

The downside is that I miss Elle so freaking much. We’ve never been separated for this long. I try to talk to her and Liam every night, but it’s hardly enough.

Hopefully, I'll get used to this feeling of loneliness because I can’t meet them while I’m at Le Salon. I’d rather die in a corner than put either of them in danger.

I spent hours and days being the new rising star of the club. It’s so freaking hard to be likeable when most girls think I’m after their positions or escorts’ ranks. They wouldn’t believe me no matter how much I swear I have no such ‘ambitions’.