Shadowed (Team Zero #4) by Rina Kent

I run towards her, but I’m not used to my body without Omega, so speed fails me.

Ink’s cockroach reaches her before me and holds his knife to her throat.





Chapter Fourteen





I freeze.

My breathing comes out as a choked sound.

A cold edge is glued to my throat as a stiff body stands behind me.

I can’t swallow, afraid he’ll slice my throat open. My hands break in sweat around the bag of books I’m holding to my chest.

When I heard the strangled noise coming from the ally, I didn’t hesitate to come and check. Perhaps it’s because of the officer side in me. Or the foolish side.

I hadn’t realised that it was some battle between Shadow and whoever this man is.

Before I could retreat and call for help, I got caught.

I try to remain calm like how they taught us in the forces.

Never provoke a captor.

It’s the only thing that’s filtering into my agitated mind as I force myself to remain still.

My gaze strays to Shadow. I expected him to be at least half my panic mode, but he’s completely calm. Blood soaks the white of his T-shirt, but his shoulders are relaxed and his overcast eyes are unreadable. There’s no tension or alarm whatsoever. It’s like he doesn’t give a damn that someone is holding a knife to my throat.

Then it hits me.

He probably doesn’t. Why would he care whether I live or die?

The thought fills my throat with a bitter taste. For the past few weeks, he’s been getting under my skin. Through our constant push and pull, I thought he might have a smudge of the care I have for him. When in reality, I’m probably a toy he kills time with.

I’m such a fool.

I widen my eyes and breathe through my nose. If I want to survive this, then I need to remain calm.

My gaze darts sideways searching for something I can use. The alley is full of rubbish. The nauseating smell of human waste worsens the clogging of my throat.

With the firm hold this man has over me, I can’t breathe properly, let alone search for a weapon.

Think, think...

The books!

My grip tightens around them. They aren’t that heavy, but they can strike some damage.

“She’s a civilian,” Shadow says with nonchalance, but I sense the hint of tension beneath.

I stare at him, and there’s the slight clench of his jaw underneath the stubble covering his cheeks.

Confusion turns my brain to butter. Does Shadow care or not? This is about the worst time he’s impossible to read.

“Drop your knife,” my captor says in a dead, detached voice.

Who is he anyway? What does he want from Shadow? Then again, it shouldn’t be a surprise. Someone like Shadow ought to have enemies.

My attention zeroes on the slash in Shadow’s shoulder. Blood soaks the white cloth in a sickening bright red. Is he badly hurt?

“I’ll hear you out.” Shadow grins, but I can tell it’s one of his fake ones. “Go on, cockroach. What do you and Team Ink want?”

“You on the inside.” My captor’s voice is firm. “Ink outside. You will volunteer to go back to The Pit. Otherwise, Hades won’t accept.”

Shadow barks a long laugh, and it’s more biting than anything. I’m confused by the whole thing. Ink. Hades. The Pit. What the hell is all that supposed to mean?

Shadow’s laugh stops abruptly and his face morphs into undecipherable lines. “Do you take ‘delusional’ drug?”

“I know your secret.” My captor deadpans.

That seems to have struck a chord because Shadow’s lips pull in his widest, fakest grin. It seems that the more he’s agitated, the harder he fakes his smiles. Sort of like me.

“Is that so?”

“Drop your knife.” My captor is calm and cold. “Come with me or I’ll kill her. ”

Dread seeps under my skin like a viral disease. No idea what the hell they’re talking about, but I’m apparently going to be the sacrifice of this encounter.

If there’s anything I learnt about Shadow then it’s his selfishness. There’s no way in hell he’ll sacrifice himself for anyone. Let alone me.

My mind crowds with ideas to use the books. If I jam them back, my captor might be faster and cut my throat. If I duck and throw —

My thoughts are interrupted. Shadow does something that shocks the hell out of me. He bends down and places his knife on the ground. His eyes meet mine during the act. They’re not indifferent. If anything... concern turns his gaze gunmetal.

Is he worried about me?

He’s still smirking, but his eyes shift to the right. Once. Twice. I wouldn’t have noticed it if I haven’t been closely watching him.

He’s giving me a message.

Move to the right, I think. No. I’m sure.

It happens in seconds. Shadow nods. I elbow my captor in the kidney and rear to the side. I close my eyes, half expecting that he sliced me and I’ll find myself bleeding to death.

I open my eyes. No blood.

Before I can breathe in relief, the sight in front of me ices my veins.

Shadow is looming behind my captor. The man is barely in his early to mid-twenties — about my age. Shadow’s knife is lodged deep in his throat.

He doesn’t stop there.

He jerks the knife back. A fountain of blood splashes on Shadow, soaking him in a red bath. The man gurgles on his own blood. The sound is scratchy, haunting, and so full of… death.