Misted (Team Zero #5) by Rina Kent

I screamed my lungs out as I shot them all. Every last freaking bastard. I remember that kill and I remember it very well. Saving Molly was like getting revenge for myself and gaining back a bit of my sanity.

“Okay, let’s go!” Molly is already standing and flinging the backpack over her shoulder.

“Go where?”

“I’m coming with you, Misty!”

“You… are?” I always asked her to come over to Le Salon and she refused every time. “I thought you were a free spirit who can’t be trapped in one place?”

“Yeah, well, that was before Hawk came back. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

I purse my lips at the mere mention of his name. He should’ve stayed away like he always did, but God forbid if the man does anything he was supposed to.

“I can handle him,” I say what I don't feel.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding him for more than fifteen years?” When I fold my arms but say nothing, Molly continues. “That’s what I thought. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I’m not gonna let that brute bully you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Do I look like the type who can be bullied?”

“One can’t be so sure!” She jumps to my side and interlinks her arm with mine. “Besides, those Zeroes bitches must be giving ya a hard time. I got your back. I’m your man! Or woman or whatever.”

Well, the traitors did take his side during that vote. Since we were young, Hawk has always been the big broody Zero whom everyone wanted to talk to but were pushed away by his silence. Most respect him for his efficiency, though.

Molly and I head out of the coffee shop. As soon as the afternoon’s fresh air hits my face, another uncomfortable sensation crawls down my spine.

Molly’s steps turn heavier as she whispers in a harsh tone, “We’re being watched.” She retrieves her phone and taps a few things inside as a deflation method. “Go east. I'll go north. Let’s catch the sucker.”

I grab her arm, preventing her from retreating. “Not safe. There are civilians here.”

When I catch whoever is watching me, I’ll do it alone. I have a strong instinct that all this has to do with the threat that’s been hovering over my head for years.

“But Misty!”

Something vibrates in my bag, and I flinch. Dammit. What am I? A newbie?

I retrieve my phone and my breathing turns shallow when I open the text.

What did I say about staying away? If you can’t do that, I’ll help.

I come to a screeching halt in the middle of the street, my heel catching on the pavement.

No. This can’t be happening.

My heart crushes and splinters to the dark pits of my stomach.

I draw in stuttering breaths, my lungs burning with exertion. A tremor draws down my arms and neck as I taste acid.

Hawk.

I sprint ahead, ignoring the heels and the inability to breathe properly. Molly shouts my name then curses as her running footsteps sound behind me. Streets and people blur in my peripheral vision and my legs scream in agony due to running in heels.

I mute it all. My senses focus on reaching my destination.

If something happens to him… then what have I been fighting for all this time?

What have I endured all this damn distance for?

I don’t know how I arrive at Le Salon or in what state. I kick my shoes away at the entrance and bolt barefoot. It isn’t opening hours yet so no one sees me running like a lunatic up the stairs and down the hallways.

I barge into my office, breathing heavily until my heart nearly pumps out of my chest.

The only person inside is Flame sleeping on the sofa. His arm serves as a pillow while his long legs stretch over the edge of the sofa.

“Misty, damn, woman!” Molly pants, bending over to catch her breath. “What’s gotten into ya?”

“Where is he?” I ask Flame in a small whisper.

His sleeping deflation method never fooled me. If there's anyone who knows where everyone is, it’s him.

He remains as unmovable as a board.

I barge inside and hop on top of him in a kneeling position. My knees dig in his chest with my feet on his hard stomach. I clutch him by the collar and lift his head from the sofa, my nails scratching his neck. “Tell me where is he!”

A sly smirk curves his lips as he cracks one pale blue eye open. “Kinky.”

“Flame,” I warn in a semi-hysterical tone.

“You didn’t specify who’s he.”

I contemplate punching the answer out of him and screw it if we kill each other.

“Am I interrupting something?” A deep, controlled voice drifts from the entrance.

Life shoots back into my limbs and I’m able to gulp in breaths again.

I slowly tilt my head to the side, half-dreading that he’s not there.

Hawk stands at the door, his broad frame dwarfing the entrance, barely leaving a peeking room for Molly. His face guards the usual impassiveness, but those turquoise blues shoot daggers at my face. The T-shirt strains against the harsh rise and fall of his chest. His stiff posture and shoulders add a menacing edge as if he’s about to fight.

Wait. Maybe he returned from a fight.

My frantic gaze roams over him from the wing tattoos sneaking along his neck to the tight ridges of his biceps and to his narrow waist and legs.