Misted (Team Zero #5) by Rina Kent

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” She inches closer to me like a pet demanding to be petted.

I turn to my side and stare at the one punching the wall, erasing her.

Unable to stand, she crawls until she’s now on her knees, facing me. “I don’t mean to bother, but you’re the only one who looked at me.”

No answer.

“Can I ask you something?” She wiggles even closer.

I shake my head, but she continues anyway, “I was brought here with two of my friends.” She pauses, a frown tilting her delicate eyebrows. “Actually, no. Only one is a friend. The other is a twat. But I don’t want him to stay here, so I have to help him, too, I guess.”

Does she realise there are listening devices in the waiting room?

“Sooo, my question is, did anyone escape from here?”

I release a grunt and shake my head. I tried before – just like a few others. We were punished by extreme Omega withdrawal that almost drove us insane. No one tried after that.

“Hmm. There’s a first for everything,” she muses in a contemplative tone.

Is she an idiot or really that naïve?

The only way to escape this place is through death.

“Wanna help?” She grins with a sense of confidence that baffles me. “You look strong, and I’m strong, too — when I’m not shaking.”

When I remain silent, she continues. “Okaaay, I’m not that strong, but I can learn. Promise. You can teach me anything and I’ll be fast to learn it. Then we can team up and leave!”

“Go away,” I grit out.

“So you can talk!” She sounds excited as if I offered her a present instead of chasing her away. “Let’s try again. I’m Mist. Do you want to escape with me? You have to tell me your name first, though.”

“Stop being a fucking idiot,” I snap. “No one escapes this hell.”

Some of the chatter and whimpers die out as a few kids glance my way. That’s probably the longest sentence I said since I got here.

Mist thins her mouth where three tiny freckles graze her upper lip. “You never know until you try. You can’t only try once and be done with it either. You have to try again and again until you succeed. Even if you don’t escape, you’ll die knowing you did everything you could. It’s better than dying due to giving up, don’t you think?”

My lips part. It’s like she knew I planned to end it all. She couldn’t have known when I hid the knife so well.

She smiles again, but this time, it’s filled with sadness. “Everyone’s eyes are washed out. It seems no one wants to fight.”

I grind my teeth. “Once you spend the time we have, you’ll be the same.”

She shakes her head frantically and the tangled red strands slap across her cheeks. “I’ll never forget wanting to fight.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Wanna bet?”

Her wide grin almost splits her face open. “Promise me that if I continue fighting, you’ll help me and my friends escape.”

For some reason, I forget about my knife and the overwhelming need to end it all. The nothingness isn’t a nothingness anymore. This girl is like a hellion bringing a breath of fresh air.

I want to see if she’ll succeed or burn like everyone else.

If anyone can stop themselves from being set on fire and turned to ashes, then it’s probably her.

“Come on, promise?” Her huge hazel eyes peer up at me with a myriad of hope, expectation, and… liveliness.

“Promise.” I don’t even know why I say the word, but I just do.

She jumps and holds out her pinkie. Oh, hell no. When I don’t do the same, she takes my hand in her softer, blistered one and does a pinkie swear.

“It’s a deal!”

I remove my hand fast, half because it’s childish, and half because I liked touching her more than I’m supposed to.

“I’m going to sleep for a bit.” She settles beside me, pulls her knees to her chest, and rests her head on top. Tremors flare down her arms as her eyes start fluttering closed.

I whisper, “I’m Hawk.”

I should’ve never made that promise back then. I should’ve got up and left. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t be plotting the demise of my life saviour decades from now.





5





Mist





I’ve been starving for your touch, but I’d rather starve than pay the price in blood.



Present,

Decades in The Pit should prevent me from being followed.

Either I'm losing my touch or whoever trailing is on a whole different level.

I sip my chamomile tea and scan my surroundings over the cup’s hem. The small coffee shop at the outskirts of London has vintage wallpapers and old, dark wooden tables. Its location at an ally gives the place an isolated, discreet location. With all the newer, high buildings surrounding the area, it’s hard to find this shop unless you know where it is.

Only a few elderly couples scatter about, sipping their tea and discussing their grandchildren.

I picked a non-crowded place on purpose, but those damn eyes won’t leave me alone.

A throbbing lodges at my temples as a reminder of why I feel watched the entire time. When I was heavy on Omega, none of the stalkings registred. It's weird considering that I was hyper-aware of my surroundings when Omega pumped in my veins. Maybe I knew I was being trailed but all of it was erased. One of Omega's side effects on Ghost and I is that it wipes our memories clean.