Crowed (Team Zero #2) - Rina Kent Page 0,31

she’s not asleep. Lucky for her, there isn’t much to do tonight.

“I was saying.” Céline pushes rebel red strands off her forehead and scoots closer as if to share France’s national secret. “The blood sample Dr Bernard sent to the laboratory in Paris disappeared. Comme l’air.”

My shoulders straighten. Crow’s blood sample. The drug in his system. “How?”

“I don’t know.” Céline appears deep in thoughts. “What makes it even weirder is that the blood sample in our lab disappeared, too. There’s no trace to investigate that drug.”

Merde.

Did Crow do this? But he never left for Paris, at least not since he came to live with me. It’s like someone is making sure no information is accessible about the drug.

Is that why Crow’s expression changed drastically after receiving the text?

I shake my head. These questions will drive me mad. I leave Céline to get coffee from the hospital’s cafeteria. The coffee isn’t that good, but it’s something to distract me from all these chaotic thoughts.

At this time of the night, the cafeteria is empty. Only a few interns are huddled around a table in the back, trying to fight sleep by consuming copious amount of caffeine. On my way to pour myself a coffee, a broad frame bumps into me. Pain explodes in my shoulders.

He’s dressed in a hoodie, face covered by the shadows. No features come into view.

“I have one piece of advice for you,” he says in a perfect British accent as he passes me. The voice is so familiar, but I can’t pinpoint it. “Run.”

Crow

Facing the marina, I lean against my bike, clutching the files Celeste has sent me.

There’s no mistaking it.

The scheme forms loud and clear as I stare at the coroner’s report of Paul’s corpse.

Prior to the blowing up of the storage, Paul was cut open from his collarbone to his navel. That’s what The Pit’s assassins do when leaving a message. More specifically Team Zero. We’re the one who invented this tactic and taught it to the other assassins.

I don’t know who the fuck started this gruesome method. Whoever they were, the idea must’ve come up while they were on Omega.

Paul was killed by one of our own. One of my own. Someone close wants me dead and killed Paul to hide their tracks.

The Pit. Team Zero. Hades.

I have no idea who to trust anymore. Not that I completely trusted anyone before. We’re all warped in the head. Sometimes, I don’t even trust myself.

I was never attacked after that shooting, so I don’t have much evidence about who wants me dead. It’s not hard to narrow it down, though.

Ghost.

He’s the only one who’s been here. Why would he want to kill me? Why would he cover up my withdrawal and even tell me about his? It would’ve been easier to let Hades take care of me. Besides, Celeste is very close with Ghost. She must’ve known I would suspect him, and therefore, she wouldn’t have sent me these files.

But Celeste and Ghost are both elusive as fuck. No one knows what’s going on in their brains.

Theories bang through my head, and I have no definite proof about who might be after my life. I retrieve a lighter, burn the files, and let them sink in the water of the marina.

Whoever they are, let them come after me. I’m ready to rip their heads off of their shoulders and show them what it’s like to fuck with me.

*****

When I go back to the house, it’s well after sunrise. Since Ghost is not answering his phone, I’ve been roaming around, trying to get his attention. Either he’s doing well at hiding or I’m rubbish at drawing underground attention.

Either way, this isn’t over. Team Zero’s members never go against each other -- for a good reason. Our skill level is basically on par and we all don’t give two fucks about death. That fearlessness caused by Omega makes us deadlier than the second generation. Most of them kept some of their humanity.

We didn’t.

If Ghost and I clash, one of us will die. If it’s me, I’ll make sure to cripple him so he won’t be able to move without remembering me.

I open the front door of the house and stand rooted in place. A sweet smell of jasmine wafts in the clean and tidy reception area. The curtains are pushed back, allowing sunrays inside. No dust blurs the tall windows. Early hours’ sun shines through them.

Someone has been cleaning.

I smile. This means Eloise is taking staying alive seriously, right?

The