Misted (Team Zero #5) by Rina Kent

She rolls her eyes even when a trickle of blood falls down her neck and onto the collar of her pastel pink T-shirt.

Footsteps sound upstairs, I lock Scar down and reach for my gun. I hold my knife at Scar’s throat and point my gun at… Crow.

He places both hands in his trousers’ pocket. “You lose, psycho.”

Scar huffs. “Whatever.”

Both of them are completely unfazed about the weapons – or that I’m able to end their lives in a second.

“Hawk is alive, redhead.” Crow hooks his thumb behind him. “We had to sedate him to stop him from running back to England, though.”

My feet falter, and I nearly fall. My steel clutch loosens from around Scar and she pushes me away. My back hits the wall hard, but I don’t care.

Hawk is alive.

I can breathe again.

I narrow my eyes on Scar who’s studying her French-manicured nails. “But you said he had a fever.”

Eloise joins Crow and they both descend the stairs. She smiles sheepishly at me. “It was partially my idea. I’m sorry, but,” she jabs Crow in his side and he groans. “This mule and Scar were sure you revel in hurting Hawk, so I suggested this to prove them wrong.”

I’m running up the stairs without saying a word. What if they’re lying? What if Hawk is already dead but they’re playing a sick trick on me?

The moment I swing the door open, I freeze. His large body dwarfs the bed, and his chest rises and falls steadily. My feet fail me, and I crouch, my back leaning against the doorframe.

Tears rim my eyes, and I swallow a scream down.

He’s alive.

Hawk is alive.

“I still don’t trust you.” Scar’s deadpan voice comes from beside me.

I straighten up and point the knife I’m still holding at her. “Get out.”

She smiles coyly and I know I’ll hate whatever she has to say. “I’ve been there for him when you weren’t, remember?”

I barge into her space and hold the knife’s sharp edge to her face. “I saw Hawk first, had him first, and he’s always been mine. Keep your psychotic claws off him or I swear I’ll cut your pretty little face, got it?”

She jabs a finger at my chest. “I don’t know what he sees in you, but hurt him again and I’ll be the one to cut your pretty little face.” She grins wide. “Got it?”

I’m about to throw her out, but she flicks her blonde strands and switches to her awfully cheerful tone. “Eloiiiiise! About that tour you promised me…”

“She promised you nothing.” Crow growls from downstairs.

“You have the right to remain silent, Crow-Man.”

I shut the door at their bickering and lean against it. I close my eyes and suck in calming breaths. I’m still shaking and panting and an overall mess.

With one last breath, I slowly walk to where Hawk is lying on his stomach, my gaze on his back. What if it stops rising and falling? What if –

I shake my head and drop to my knees by the side of the bed. He’s half naked, the lines of a short peek from underneath the sheets. The large bandage that used to cover most of his upper body is gone. Only a big plaster remains near his back. Colour has returned to his tired face. Even when he’s asleep, he looks torn and exhausted as if he’s fighting demons in whatever place he’s at.

I rise on my knees and stroke rebellious strands off his forehead. My lips find his skin and I kiss him, lingering there for a moment too long until I taste the salt of my own tears.

Enough is enough.

I killed myself over and over by staying away from him all these years. I denied him, hurt him, and made him hate me in the most horrible ways possible.

I can’t do it anymore.

The thought of losing him without saying anything of what’s burning inside me nearly killed me.

If I’m on borrowed time, I’ll spend every second I have left with the man I’ve been running away from.

Because in running away from him, I’ve been running away from myself.





I dream about Nero. Hades. The guards. The doctor. The blood. The screams.

Every horrible memory rushes into me at the same time.

I gasp awake before the most horrible of all penetrates my subconscious. I’m still not strong enough to face that memory.

My knees ache from so much kneeling. I glance at my wrist watch and calculate that I’ve been here for more than ten hours. Soft white light bathes the room so it's night already.

I lift my head to check on Hawk.

Bright turquoise eyes stare down at me. The intensity in them forms a lump at the back of my throat. Hawk sits against the headboard, watching me. That’s all he’s doing – watching.

Since when has he been awake?

“Why are you here?” he asks in a detached tone, but the confusion is loud in his drawn brows.

I wobble to a standing position. My nerve endings tremble, but it’s not because of Omega.

My entire being tunes to his. Energy ripples between us, humming with unspoken words and unkept promises.

Before I can change my mind and run out of the room, I hop on top of him and straddle his lap. My knees rest on each side of him on the bed and my palms flex on his naked shoulders, careful not to push him and trigger his injury.

“What are you doing?” Hawk’s clipped voice booms against my heated cheek.