Crowed (Team Zero #2) - Rina Kent Page 0,8

recent terror attack in Southern France, the security’s tight. Smuggling will be near impossible for some time.”

Fuck. My fist clenches and unclenches from around the gun’s slide. “How about your contacts? You’re French or some shit.”

“Half French.”

“What-the-fuck-ever. You speak like the natives. So get me out of here.”

“Can’t. Hades’ orders.”

Double fuck.

If Hades orders something, we only have one option: obey.

The alternative is being killed.

Or worse, not getting our dose of the Omega drug whose withdrawal symptoms are much more horrible than death itself.

“The good news?” I ask. Still cradling my gun, I throw a hand over my eyes to stop focusing on the bug-fan.

“You’ll be provided with your Omega doses on a weekly basis. Ghost and I are divided between Paris and Berlin. One of us will be there once your stash runs out. Find a nice place away from the public eye and focus on recovery until further notice.”

“Sure thing, Storm. I’ll take knitting lessons, too.” I sit up in bed. Ache lodges in my torso. I ignore it and clench my fist around the gun. “Fuck that. This mission was supposed to be a clean hit. Kill the target and retreat. Except there was no target at the designated place and I ended up being shot. If I didn’t duck, I would’ve been dead meat. If civilians didn’t somehow go to the beach that late, I would’ve been hunted like a fucking animal. Someone is betraying The Pit and I need to find the bastard.”

“Hades knows. He already assigned me to look into this. Ghost, too.” Storm takes a sharp inhale – of his cigarette, no doubt. “The rest of Team Zero is busy trying to catch those Rhodes cunts. Their guards grew like moss on trees and it’s becoming impossible to go near them.”

The Rhodes, three arseholes of the second generation who somehow managed to escape The Pit. I smile. I can’t help feeling proud. I was their trainer after all. Good to see my creations being little fucking rebels. Though we’ll get them, sooner or later.

“Hades is getting... impatient,” Storm continues. “He wants them taken care of.”

“He needs to set an example.” Otherwise, other assassins will continue to drift. Hades can control Team Zero’s loyalty through Omega, but it was abandoned after us. The second generation, The Rhodes’ generation, was acquired through kidnapping while they were children to assure better loyalty. If they’re raised as spawns of hell under Hades’ rule, they’re bound to become demons who serve Hades for eternity.

The Rhodes revoked that belief.

“Just stay low,” Storm says. “Leave no traces behind. No one suspects you and lives to tell tales about it. Hades’ orders.”

Translation: no fucking negotiations.

But what Hades doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

I’ll find the traitor and take his or her head back to Hades’ gates of hell.

After I hang up, I pull the duffel bag from under the bed.

Seven shots of Omega — my stash for the week — stare at me. It’d be easier to get rid of them now since no one is at my back. Withdrawal symptoms still cause me to stay up all night writhing in pain, but I’m done living on a borrowed existence.

I don’t need a fucking drug to ensure my loyalty to The Pit. I have no other place to belong to.

That’s why I have to catch the traitor who’s threatening it.

Then, maybe I’ll convince Storm and the rest of Team Zero to detox from Omega, too. The only reason why I haven’t done that already is because Hades watches our every move like a hawk. I also didn’t know whether the withdrawal itself would kill me.

I’m not dead.

Yet.

Which means the traitor should be fucking scared.

A smirk pulls my lips. The promise of a hunt causes excitement to rush through my veins.

Here I fucking come.

But first, I need a safe place to stay.

*****

The safest place in this godforsaken town is some gothic mansion at the top of a hill that looks as old as the queen.

It took me an hour and a half navigating the forest to reach the damn place. I even followed the instructions on the site. It would’ve taken me countless hours otherwise.

On the bright side, if someone’s after me, they will struggle to find me.

Perfect.

I kill the engine of my bike and park it near a tree behind the house. My wound still burns, and I clutch my shoulder while descending.

Now, I have to convince the landlord or lady to accept me.

I remove my helmet and dust off my leather jacket