huddled at the kitchen table. His tall, broad frame dwarfs the old wooden chair. His legs stretch in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and a cigarette dangles from his lips. His dark ginger hair is all over the place as if he just rolled out of bed — which he probably did.
The one with him is a surprise. Hawk stands at the counter, pouring himself coffee from the pot.
I thought he looked bad on the videos Hades sent, but in person, he’s a lot fucking worse.
His hair is short, cut in a military style which highlights the galaxy of blue and green and yellow on his face and neck. Out of Team Zero, Hawk is probably the broadest and bulkiest. He’s done lots of lifting since we were teens and his body shape is buff as if he’s on steroids. Now, though, it’s safe to say he lost at least twenty pounds of his weight. The half-tucked grey T-shirt swallows his shoulders.
Aside from his appearance, he still projects the same calm, albeit deadly presence.
Hades told us once that the silent ones are the most lethal — though Scar and I always proved him wrong. This big man is Team Zero’s ace sniper. He killed more people in the Middle East than the fucking army.
He never misses.
He’s been Hades’ subject of torture all these months while the rest of us worked on the mafia business. Hawk was locked up with Ink and two other Team Zero members and gone through harsh withdrawal.
“What are you doing here?” I’m still holding the knife, but it’s lowered.
I might not consider Team Zero a family like Ghost does, but I’ve known these two fuckers for decades. That’s the only reason I’m not killing them for interrupting the best sleep I had in ages.
Hawk’s head snaps my way and the coffee spills all over the counter. His wrists are bandaged due to being cuffed and hanging from the ceiling.
Fucking torture. Hades did a number on him.
I wonder how the old hag Mist felt when she saw him in person. That if they’re not still playing that hide and seek game.
Hawk’s brows furrow. “I didn’t sense you.”
“It takes time, but you’ll get used to it.” I lie to make him feel better.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this weaker version of myself, and I’m often tempted to go back to Omega. However, the thought of those bright green eyes disappointed in me or Ghost giving up on me stops me every time.
Hawk retrieves a cigarette and slips it between his lips. “Flame didn’t mention that you’d be here.”
Flame who’s been silently smoking lifts a shoulder. “I must’ve forgotten.”
I narrow my eyes on the shady bastard. Since he always has a motive, bringing Hawk here is no coincidence. I’m tempted to cut him because he scared Zoe.
I kick a chair back and slump across from him. The sooner he gets it over with the better.
“Sorry, big man,” I tell Hawk. “You can’t stay here. Hide from Mist someplace else.”
Hawk pats his pocket in search of a lighter. “I’m not hiding.”
“Sure thing. Your drama with the old hag doesn’t interest me.” I kick the chair beside me so he’d sit down. “Why did Flame bring you here?”
Hawk slowly settles in, careful not to scrape his side. His injuries must be a bitch. I’d hate to be him.
He removes the unlit cigarette from his mouth and cuts me a sharp glare. “Stop calling her an old hag.”
“You should see her wrinkles. Only wait.” I grin. “You’re avoiding each other.”
He grunts and I’m sure he would’ve jammed my face into the table if he were in better shape. Instead, he grabs Flame’s lighter and brings it to his cigarette.
“There’s no alcohol here.” Flame blows smoke from his mouth. “What’s wrong with this place?”
“Your fucking existence.” My words are more biting than I like to show Flame — or anyone for that matter. But my skin is crawling at the thought of them under the same roof as Zoe. Hawk is fresh from extensive withdrawal and therefore, his relapse is bound to be strong.
Flame is unpredictable as fuck, and he’d do anything to serve his agenda — whatever the hell that is.
I need them a planet away from Zoe.
“What is it?” I level my tone even though I’m still toying with the knife on the table.
Flame takes his sweet arse time to take a drag of his cigarette and blow a cloud of nicotine. “Hades feels tricked about