Misted (Team Zero #5) by Rina Kent

I’m so fucking done for.





32





Hawk





Were we ever an Us? Or was it always you versus me?



Murderous doesn’t even begin to describe the mood at the dining table.

After Mist’s return three days ago, Crow took his wife and left because he doesn’t want us to ‘rub’ off on his unborn baby. A part of him also thinks that all Zeroes could and would want to hurt Eloise for being Dr Johnson’s daughter — Omega’s Godfather.

Dr Johnson has been in hiding for years with Eloise’s mother, and I know Crow and his wife visit them, but I couldn’t give two fucks about him. I doubt any of the other Zeroes have time to worry about a vendetta against Dr Johnson when Hades is the keeper of our hell.

Scar stayed with us. For three days straight, she’s been blasting her favourite old rock music by Oasis, dancing, and doing anything that gets on Mist’s tiniest nerves.

She’s currently sitting on my left wearing a pastel yellow T-shirt on which is written. ‘Sometimes, the King is a Woman.’ She cuts shrimp into tiny pieces and chats with me like a happy pill while eating.

Mist sits on my right in a completely opposite mood. She’s wearing one of her straight dark blue dresses that stops above her knees. I forbade her from using the elastic on her hair so it falls to her back. She didn’t do much makeup either so her freckles are visible from a short distance.

Since we sat down on the table for dinner, she’s been stabbing the shrimp on her plate but didn’t eat a bite. Now and again, she glares at Scar as if contemplating how long it would take her to die if she cuts her with a food’s knife.

They never got along, but this much animosity is new.

“Eat up, Hawky!” Scar places pieces of shrimp in my plate. “You need to have good stamina.”

Mist slams her fork on the table and stands up. She cuts me a sharp glare before she stomps up the stairs.

The fuck?

Scar laughs so hard, she bends over and hugs her stomach.

“What’s so fucking funny?” I snap.

“Come on, Hawky, get a clue. The redhead witch is jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“You’re so dense, it’s even worse than me sometimes.” Scar shakes her head which causes the blondish strands to slap her cheeks. “She thinks you and I are fucking.”

“Where in the hell would she get that idea from?”

Scar grins, sounding mischievously contemplative. “I’m the closest you have? You hate other people? You only had me while both of you were on that voodoo ‘we don’t talk but we stalk each other’ phase?”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. I mean if she had a bit of logic, she should’ve noticed that sharing body juices isn’t my thing — it’s so eww — but she’s too caught up in her own head. Anyway, you kind of have to follow her and grovel and shit.” Scar lifts a shoulder. “I mean, that’s what women want. I guess.”

Standing up, I narrow my eyes on her. “You were being all lovey dovey to provoke her?”

The devil peeks from the amber of her eyes when she smiles wide. “Damn straight! Have you seen the look on her face? Priceless.”

I kick her chair away. “Screw you, little bugger.”

“You’ll thank me for it.” She retrieves her phone and waves me away.

I start to leave then stop when I see what she’s scrolling through with a rare concentration.

Social media.

And not any social media. There are countless pictures of Lieutenant Liam Cole in inauguration ceremonies. There’s even a picture of him receiving a medal from the queen.

“Are you stalking that lieutenant?” I ask.

“Nooo!” She draws in a dramatically deceptive voice and hits home on her phone screen. “I’m just studying the enemy lines, Hawky. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, remember?”

Leaning over, I place a hand on the table in front of her. “He has serious problems with us, so don’t get involved with him.”

“I’m not!” Her voice is defensive before she stuffs a mouthful of shrimp in her mouth. I shake my head and ascend the stairs. When I throw a look over my shoulder, she’s back to staring at her phone.

Here’s to hoping the lieutenant doesn’t become her newest fixation. I might actually feel sorry for him if he becomes Scar’s obsession.

That is, if he isn’t already.

The moment I open the bedroom’s door, a pillow is thrown in my face. I barely duck and it hits the wall.

The fuck?

Mist sits on the edge of the bed with her legs tucked on one side like an aristocratic lady. Her arms are crossed under her breasts while her fingers tap at her arms.

Her pointed gaze watches my every move as I close the door and step inside to loom over her sitting position.

I can feel her fired up energy surrounding me and engraving itself under my skin.

“Are you fucking her?” she snaps.

Scar was right. Mist is jealous.

I was always the possessive one, so I didn’t get to see her jealousy. I thought her snarky remarks about Scar were because she didn’t like her — not because she thought of her as competition.

“Her?” I play nonchalance.

“You know who I’m talking about.” Her cheeks become so red until her skin tone almost matches the colour of her hair.