Shadowed (Team Zero #4) by Rina Kent

“Shut the fuck up, Flame.” I preferred him better when he was sleeping.

“She’s not gone.” I stare at the three of them, and I don’t know whether I’m convincing myself or them.

There’s a weird silence in my chest. There used to be some digging in there. A humming. A hope of something, what I don’t know.

Now, all that noise died. There isn’t even a stir.

I should be glad. Nothing will bother me anymore and I can indulge in my comfort zone like I used to.

Only, I’m not glad. Red smears my vision. All that plays in my mind is the need to commit violence.

Kill.

Maim.

Fucking destroy.

“Your eyes, you freak.” Mist motions at me with her drink. “Have you been detoxing like the rest of us?”

“Mate.” Ghost is approaching me with steady steps as if he’s afraid I’ll go berserk on all of them.

I step back and repeat in a more certain tone. “She’s not gone.”

I storm out of the office and into the surveillance room. Two guards stand in respect upon seeing me. One of them offers me a seat, but I refuse it. I don’t want to sit down. I want — no, I need — to find her.

After some rewinding, I check the surveillance camera from the afternoon.

Zoe stumbles through Le Salon’s front door. Her steps are robotic. Her face and clothes are smudged with that cockroach's blood.

She keeps rubbing at her arms as if she’s cold or scared.

I hit pause and close my eyes for a brief second. I really shouldn’t have killed him in front of her. She was in shock. Maybe she already has a trauma and I worsened it.

When I find her, I’ll make it up to her.

I open my eyes and hit play. I follow her through the camera, but as soon as she goes into the lift, the screen turns black.

I force the play, rewind, and go back again. Still nothing.

“It’s been under reparations,” Lachlan says. I didn’t even notice him coming into the surveillance room.

“What?”

He points at the screen. “Nothing has been recorded since the afternoon until opening hours.”

“Fuck!” I throw the keyboard and run to the only other person who could have seen her. I don’t find Scar in the club and she’s not picking up her bloody phone.

She sends a text.

Busy. Don’t disturb.

I climb up her window. My shoulder wound opens and red soaks my T-shirt. I don’t pay it attention, not stopping until I step into Zoe and Scar’s room.

The psycho doll is sitting cross-legged in a meditating position while surrounded by a circle of candles that smell like vanilla. Some old rock music plays in the background. Her T-shirt has ‘Killing You in My Mind’ written in glitter.

I ignore her and search all over the room. My heart picks up pace when I turn the knob to the bathroom. I know Zoe probably won’t be here, but hope is a fucked up thing. It makes you believe there’s something better and then takes it all away.

The bathroom is empty.

I stride to Scar. “Where is she?”

She doesn’t open her eyes. “I’m meditating right now.”

I kick all the candles until they’re all out. Destruction is my thing.

Scar opens one eye and glares at me. “Scarce, arsehole.”

“Where is she?”

“I should be the one asking you.”

“Stop fucking with me and tell me where she is, psycho doll.”

“I really don’t know. I’m always kept in the dark.”

“You like being left in the dark.”

She closes her eyes and motions at the table. “She left you something.”

I stalk to the table, half expecting that perhaps Zoe is hiding in there, waiting to give me a scare. I’ll pretend to be scared. No problem.

Nope.

Not fucking close.

On the table, there’s a piece of paper. That’s it. A tiny piece of paper.

Shadow,

You’ve broken me, so I hope this breaks you, too.

Zoe.





Chapter Seventeen





Six weeks later,

I jam my fist into the man’s face over and over. Blood covers my bandage-wrapped knuckles. I don’t know if it’s his or mine, but I don’t stop or care.

His face becomes unrecognisable with every punch. His nose is broken and a few teeth fall from his gaping mouth. The crowd goes rampant asking for more. Violence excites them and makes them feel alive even though they’re only spectators.

The boxer’s coach and his team shout at me to stop.

I don’t.

I didn’t get my fix of violence yet. Unlike the crowd who are hazy by watching, my appetite is insatiable.

The man falls to his knees with a thud, gurgling on blood. He’s losing consciousness fast and hard and will probably go into shock.

Fuck this shit.

Wasn’t he supposed to be the strongest in his category? I even picked up someone who weighs more than me and who has been fighting for years. Why isn’t he punching back?

Fucking hit me.

I shake him but only groans of pain slip through the gurgling of blood.

Forceful arms shove me back. Ghost. “You’re killing him.”

I kick my unconscious opponent and he falls backwards with a loud thud. The crowd roars with deafening excitement. The fight organisers swarm towards him like bees. His coach shakes him while a medic injects him with something.