Crowed (Team Zero #2) - Rina Kent Page 0,7

voice will actually cause my descent to hell.

“Not the first time, Nurse Betty.”

Her nose scrunches as if she smelled something foul. The change in those soft features is the last sight before I swing my legs and kick the second storey’s window. The glass crashes, shattering all around me.

Broken glass slashes into my shins and back as I roll onto the room’s floor.

That fucking hurts.

But not as much as the gutting pain in my shoulder. Blood is dripping down my wrist and arm from the soaked bandage.

Gasps and cries fill the room of patients as I dash through the door and into the fire escape. I use all the energy I have left to boot myself out of the hospital before the police find me.

I need to collapse somewhere. Give my injury a little time to heal. Then, I’m going after the fucking traitor who almost got me killed.

*****

A little time to heal is an understatement.

Three days later and the burn in my wound won’t go the fuck away. As if the bullet is still lodged inside.

The injury reduced me to a bloody cripple, unable to go far.

I lie on my back in the old motel that I managed to drag myself into. I sneaked back here late at night because I already rented the room before my mission.

The dusty fan buzzes in the ceiling. Its crooked blades resemble a dying bug’s wings.

My gaze drifts to the nightstand. The meds are almost done. I only have one more shot of morphine. I’m saving it for desperate times.

As much as I want more morphine, it’s impossible to go anywhere.

A description of me is plastered in the local newspapers that I managed to steal from the tenant next door. Which means I’m tied to this town until I’m smuggled back to England.

I can’t even stay in this motel for long. Besides the filth that I’m sure is making my injury worse, someone is bound to notice and report me to the police. Issues of small towns and a foreign man with a funny French accent.

The French always make out the accent. Not that they do better in English, anyway.

Except for Nurse Betty. She spoke nearly perfect English.

But that petite thing was fucking weird on way too many levels.

Movement catches in my peripheral vision. I grab my gun and jump up.

Adrenaline rushes through my limbs, camouflaging the pain.

I stalk to the figure moving behind the curtains. If the traitor has come to finish his job, then he’s in for a fucking ride.

I slowly push the thick curtains away, pointing my gun ahead.

Instead of a traitor, I find a white fluffy feline. The cat stares at me with pitiful eyes and meows. He must be hungry.

I loosen my hold on the trigger.

Careful not to strain my shoulder, I rummage in the takeout on the coffee table and retrieve the ham. I hold it in my hand and offer it to the cat. He eats with a satisfied purr. He even lets me pet him.

I barely remember anything about my life before The Pit, but I recall an orange cat. My companion on the streets.

My phone vibrates on the nightstand. The cat jumps from the window after he finishes eating.

Not even a thank you.

Fucking ungrateful cats.

I lie back on the bed and check my phone. A blocked number.

About time.

“Get me the fuck out of this town,” I bark as soon as I answer. “One more day in this boredom and I’ll die before the traitor gets to me.”

A low chuckle filters from the other side. Storm might be one of the few people I’d call a friend, but he’s such an arsehole most of the time. “Are you sure you want to come back after you’ve been shot like a bitch, Crow? The team won’t leave you be.”

I groan. Team Zero will have my arse for getting involved with the police. It’s a fucking disgrace for assassins who make sure to live in the shadows.

“I’ll take the mocking, but I can’t stand one more fucking minute in this filthy humid place.” Movement catches on my right. My head snaps its way as I tighten my hold on the gun. Cockroach. One more addition to the list of endless rubbish. “I’ll die of bloody infection.”

“Okay.” There’s humour in Storm’s voice. The sadistic twat. “I have good news and bad news, mate.”

“Bad news. Shoot.”

“You can’t come back to England yet. Not only did you make quite the ruckus in a peaceful town, but also, due to a