Shadowed (Team Zero #4) by Rina Kent

I’m losing all of this. But I wasn’t able to appreciate it properly because Mum’s killer is still out there. He’s owning places and people and living the best of lives while mine and my mother’s have been hell.

I can never forgive him. Ever.

If I want to live my life to its fullest, then my grandfather has to pay.





I walk into Le Salon with confident steps.

Loud music booms in between the walls. Even though Le Salon is a legal façade for mafia activity, it appears no different from other luxury clubs. The main floor is sophisticated with tones of dark red and gold as theme colours. The lounge area is packed and so is the Victorian-style bar.

Since it’s the opening hours, so many people filter through the door, but the entrance is exclusive to the rich and powerful. They have to show a special access badge with Le Salon’s logo to get inside.

The distinctive scents of cigar, alcohol, and men’s expensive perfume lingers in the air. The dress code for all the girls working here is strictly evening gowns.

I’m wearing a mid-thigh blue dress that flatters my pale skin tone. I made sure to doll up as much as possible without appearing like I’m trying so hard. The only loud thing in my makeup is the matte red lipstick. First impressions matter the most and red is a winner in a place like this.

Some escorts are chatting happily with customers while others take men upstairs. Prostitution is a side dish on Le Salon’s menu. I’m hoping against hope that none of these girls is forced into it.

I keep pushing through the crowd with firm, sure steps.

Deep inside? I’m rethinking the whole thing.

I want revenge more than anything, but would I go to the extent of offering my body for it?

Mum’s dead eyes flash into my memory.

My mother lies on the kitchen floor while my father sits on a chair, eyes closed, with no care in the world. For a passer-by, he’d appear asleep. I stare dumbfounded from the kitchen’s broken window. My arms and legs are scraped with glass and blood pours from my skin.

It hurts so much, but I’m too numb to move. I want to scream at her to wake up, but nothing comes out.

I lose consciousness and wake up in the hospital. My parents are dead due to gas asphyxiation, they say. I was only saved because one of my parents threw me out from the kitchen window.

Mum did.

She was lying on the kitchen floor, her arms bleeding, because she saved me. Dad would never save me. He only returns from his post in Afghanistan for two weeks before leaving us again on months to no end.

He never cared.

He didn’t talk much either.

Because he was wrong in the head, Mum told me.

Because the war made a monster out of him and I should never anger him.

Dad was a shapeless gloom for me and someone I needed to survive. Mum said he wasn’t a good man and that I’m only safe with her.

I asked her why she married him, then. In my seven years old mind, I believed in fairy tales. I believed that a man and woman should love each other to get married.

Mum said she always refused him and when she kept on saying no, he forced his way with her. She fell pregnant with me and her father coerced her to marry my dad.

When I grew up in various foster homes, I came to the shocking revelation that I’m a result of rape. I’m a dirty, shameful existence.

It didn’t take me long to connect the dots of what happened.

Dad killed Mum.

I heard them arguing that night everything went to hell. They always argued, but that day was worse than usual. I don’t have clear memories, but I remember that night so well because Dad broke my favourite toy. Mum told him she had enough and that she was taking me and leaving.

His reaction? Family suicide.

I lost both my parents one day and that was that. I didn’t have my father to blame. I didn’t have anything. The only one I had left is my mother’s father. If that scum didn’t force her to marry her rapist and took care of his traumatised daughter instead, she wouldn’t have died like a nobody. I wouldn’t have grown up alone, vengeful, and empty like a tin man.

So yes, if it’s to bring that rat down, I would do anything. Including Le Salon’s side dish.

When I applied, they said I’d be a waitress in the probation period. I might be promoted to an escort if I do well. I’ll make sure I’m accepted but I won’t do well enough to be promoted.

I take the stairs where the guard has directed me. I’m to see the madam before getting started.

There’s a commotion as soon as I reach the second floor.

The woman from last night, Mist, the madam of Le Salon, is twisting a man’s arm and locking it behind his back. He wears an expensive suit and appears mid-age. His face is reddening while hers is completely serene as if she’s dealing with a child.

Beside her, a darker-skinned woman in a beautiful tulle gown sniffles and half-hides behind Mist.

The madam hisses something in the man’s ear and his face turns ten shades redder. She lets him go and says in a cool tone, “One more strike and you’ll be banned from Le Salon, Mr Jacobs.”

He stumbles away, massaging his wrist.

Whoa. That’s so cool. I don’t care if she’s the madam or the leader of an illegal organisation, but if she protects the girls then she’s a hero.

Having grown up in the dirtiest of places, Elle and I are no strangers to the scene of madams and prostitutes, but they usually treat their girls as a business, nothing more.