Misted (Team Zero #5) by Rina Kent

“Why do I have to talk while you remain silent?” I shoot back. “Why don’t you tell me why you killed Poison’s disciple and made an enemy out of him? Why don’t you tell me why you broke Croft’s arm and fought Shadow right after? Why?”

I know why. From what Molly mentioned, it was all for me. But that’s not what I want to know. I’m itching to hear him say he did it because he still cared, not because he’s territorial and wants to be the only one who hurts me.

If he tells me that, if he just says the words, I might break and spill everything.

“I’m asking for the last time.” His cold tone feels like ice on my shrivelling heart. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.”

“Wrong answer.” He places a hand on my chest and pushes me away. I fall back with a shriek. Water slaps my back before I’m drowning into a dark abyss. I try to move my hands and legs, but it turns into fumbling with no avail.

My lungs suffocate and I swallow salty, thick water with each gulp. Just when I think I’m going to die, a strong hand grips my arm and pulls me to the surface.

I gasp on air as my hair covers my face. My hands flounder about until I find Hawk’s arm and hold on to it with all my might. He’s my doom and my saviour all in one consuming package.

“What. Are. You. Hiding?” He spits every word.

When I shake my head, he starts to remove my hand. I jump his neck in a hug so tight, I feel his pulse against my fingers.

“Don’t.” My voice chokes with a sob. “Not now, please. I beg you.”

“Why?” He hits the water with a fist. “Tell me fucking why?”

Usually, no one can see Hawk’s temper flaring, but I used to sense it through the tiny clench in his jaw or his abnormally rigid posture.

Now, I feel it pouring out of his skin like hot, burning acid. It makes me hate myself more than I already do.

He punches the water over and over again. A smarter person would’ve removed herself from his immediate vicinity. I don’t.

I cling to him and whisper in a broken voice. “Hug?”

“Fuck!” He storms out to the shore with me wrapped all around him. Once I can stand on my feet, he removes me from around his neck and stalks to the shore.

I abandon my pride and my stupid little plans and run after him, thanking the waves for pushing me.

Once he’s within reach, I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face in his strong, yet rigid back.

I repeat in a more broken tone. “Hug?”

A deep-throated growl rips from him as he turns into stone. For long seconds, we stand there with the water reaching my waist. I nuzzle my nose into his back, inhaling him in and hoping he’ll calm down a little.

My lips graze the salty skin of his back and I kiss him and kiss him and kiss the hell out of him.

With another groan, he yanks my arms free and strides outside the beach. Once again, I bury my useless pride and follow him.

He’s in pain and I’d do anything to erase that pain.

On the beach, he bends to pick up his phone and gun that he always leave there and continues storming ahead.

Once he’s near the wired fence we did together, he stops. I halt, too, my eyes bulging at the unmistakable rustle and hustle of shoes.

He’s here.

It’s the last horrifying thought I have before bullets fly all around us.





24





Mist





If it keeps you alive, I’d rip my own heart out and chop it to pieces.



I jump behind the fence. My delayed reflexes slow me down, and I curse.

Silenced shots echo all around the house and I want to murder whoever it is shooting such a cosy, beautiful home.

I scan my surroundings expecting to see Hawk crouched beside me. He isn’t there.

My body locks and sweat trickles down my back.

No.

No, no, no…

Not caring about the bullets, I slowly lift my head over the fence, dread tightening my stomach.

Hawk is running behind one of the trees, a gun in hand. He throws a silent look my way and mouths. ‘Stay there.’

I release a long breath and crouch on the ground so my head isn’t in shooting range.

Concern still pulls at my strings like a Russian Roulette. My gaze roams around, trying to decipher if my stalker is behind the attack.

He never worked in a team, so if it is indeed him, then this is a first.

I don’t like the change of pattern. That means he’s getting desperate or more ruthless. Or both.

The source of the shooting comes from the tree Hawk is heading to. He’s holding the gun with his right hand.

Now that I know he doesn’t have full control of his dominant hand, my shoulder blades tighten with tension.

During our years apart, he’s always been a constant immortal that I trusted will survive.

This handicap ruins everything.

I stare at my shaky hands and fist them. They will have to submit and be useful today.

Hawk must’ve caught the shooters’ attention because the direction of the bullets switches to the bushes.

I flatten my torso on the ground and crawl behind the fence, using it as a shield. My legs still shake, but thankfully the ringing in my head isn’t strong.

The more gunshots puncture the silence, the surer I become that Hawk is still out there.