woman fidgets in front of the building, obviously drunk and about to pass out. She sways in place until the taxi is out of sight. Then, she stumbles to the middle of the pavement.
The whole time I watch her, I can’t put a finger on it, but I want to fucking shake her.
That’s a lie.
I can put a finger on it. From this angle, without clear physical features, she reminds me of that bloody Zoe. Even her name is irritating as fuck. What does Zoe even mean? Life. I kind of searched it up.
She snatches my attention whenever she’s in the room like a bloodsucker. I simply can’t look away – and it’s not from lack of trying.
But I better learn to turn the other way because the consequences won’t be pretty for her.
Fuck. Who am I kidding? Look away? I can’t even rip my gaze from her fucking imitation down the street.
After what seems like forever, the blonde trudges into the building.
A rustle sounds from behind me. I turn in time for a gun to be pointed in my face. I’m on the edge of the rooftop without railings. The fall would fucking kill me. A gunshot would hurt less than having my skull crushed.
A hoodie covers his features, but a few rebel dark ginger strands escape their confinement. All complete with a short beard.
“I can kill you,” Flame says in his signature detached tone.
“You can try.” I ignore his gun and jump down so I’m eye level with him.
He twirls the weapon on his forefinger, flashing me the ‘beware of fire hazard’ sign tattoo on his wrist. That gun better be clicked on safe before he shoots me by fucking accident.
“If it was someone else.” He tilts his head to the side. “You would be dead.”
“I don’t live by ‘if’.” I lean against the rusty railings and they creak in protest. “You’re late.”
“You’re early.” He sheathes his weapon at the back of his jeans underneath the hoodie. He’s about my height but leaner and fucking meaner. At least I care about Ghost. Flame cares about no-bloody-one.
He reached into his jeans’ pocket and retrieves a pack of cigarettes. “Why are we meeting here instead of Le Salon?”
“You know why.”
He pauses with the cigarette hanging from his mouth. He takes his time lightning it, then makes the slowest show of taking his first drag. Nicotine blows in my face.
Silence falls between us – aside from the background noise of the stray cats’ gladiator fight. He’s remaining silent on purpose. Flame is that little bastard in Team Zero — no one particularly likes him — but he’s a useful bastard. In Ghost’s wrapped up sense of family, Flame is the trouble child who might or might not turn out to be a psycho killer who will murder the entire fucking family.
So far, the psycho killer part is correct.
He’s been dispatched with us by Hades. His mission is the financial department of the mafia business. He’s a genius with numbers and hacking, but I need his other genius. Asking for his help is a risk that I fought for so long not to take.
Flame isn’t trustworthy. Even worse than Mist. I don’t even like that old hag, but she’s loyal. Flame knows no such thing. He’s slippery as fuck.
But after that text, Flame became my last resort. I need to eradicate anyone who knows my secret, and Flame has the connections I lack.
He breathes more nicotine in my face. “I assume Ghost isn’t supposed to know about this?”
I make a show of grinning wide. “If he knows, I’ll wrench your intestines out of your arsehole.”
“Gruesome.” He grins back. “I’ll have to decline for now. We can try it on a target, though.”
“I need your contacts in the second generation of assassins who are still with Hades.”
He cocks his head. “Why not Celeste?”
“She’s Ghost’s disciple.”
He shows no reaction whatsoever. I just admitted that I’m going to great lengths to hide this from Ghost, and I’m sure Flame will use it for his benefit. Whatever he does wouldn’t come close to what Ghost will do once he learns the truth.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“I need Ink to stay as The Pit’s prisoner as long as possible.”
He doesn’t react to the fact that I want one of Team Zero members, one of ours, to continue being locked up and eventually tortured by Hades. That’s what I like about Flame. He isn’t judgy.
He removes the cigarette from his lips. “The second generation have less influence