Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Reaper lets out a heavy sigh as Shadow pulls herself up on top of the wall and glances back down at us. “We figure out one hell of a game plan, but before we do that, we eat.”
“Now that’s a plan I can get down with,” Shadow says before dropping down on the other side of the wall, her feet not making even the slightest sound as she lands.
I follow suit, and before I know it, Reaper is dropping down beside me, and the three of us start the long trek back home.
We take every backstreet we know, doing whatever we can to keep off the main roads as they become flooded by emergency services trying to figure out how an old warehouse that hasn’t seen the light of day in years suddenly blew up.
Almost an hour passes when we reach the city center of Blue Springs, and despite how silent Shadow is, there’s no denying the sound of her rumbling stomach. “You wanna stop at a diner?” I ask her as we stride down the street in silence.
“Oh god, yes,” she says with a sigh of relief. “I’m starving.”
I roll my eyes. No matter how much we feed this kid, she is always hungry, and honestly, I don’t know where she’s putting it. She’s practically skin and bone.
We stop at the next diner, picking a private booth close to the back exit, and before the waitress has a chance to hand us the menus, Reaper rattles off a quick order, getting us each a burger and fries, and demanding she make it quick.
“Okay, Shadow,” Reaper says as the waitress scurries off to grab us some drinks. “You’re killing me here. I can’t sit by and not ask anymore. How the fuck did you end up here?”
My eyes widen, shooting toward Reaper. We’ve made a point not to ask her about her life, hoping that she would open up when she was ready, but time is quickly running out, and despite how comfortable she’s become with us, she hasn’t dared to even whisper about her life or how she managed to become one of the best contract killers at only thirteen. I won’t lie, curiosity has been killing me too, but I’ve managed to bite my tongue so far. Reaper apparently doesn’t possess the same self-control.
Shadow freezes, her gaze shifting to me, and seeing that same curiosity in my eyes that she sees in Reaper’s, she lets out a breath, and I prepare myself for whatever’s about to come out of her mouth.
“I, umm . . .” she pauses, grabbing hold of the napkin on the table and quickly tearing it to pieces. “I was raised in an organization that trains children to become super spies and assassins. We’re stolen from the hospital right after birth. We’re never even held by our birth mothers. They were told their babies were stillborn, and from there, the babies were shipped off to their underground training camp, which is where I stayed until I was enrolled in these games. There’s no love there. Toddlers learn how to handle weapons before they learn to walk, and the second they are capable of holding their own, they are taught to fight.”
Tears fill my eyes as I look at this sweet child. “Tell me this is a sick joke,” I beg her.
Shadow shakes her head, glancing away as though the emotion in my eyes is too much for her to bear. “We’re not raised to have the same values and morals as normal children. We don’t ride bicycles or indulge in arts and crafts. Up until you hugged me in my room the other day, I’d never experienced that in my life. We’re raised to be fearless robots, yes-men to our captors, and we’re taught that our lives are expendable. We’re nothing more than a number, and when our number is called, it’s an honor to do our part, even if it means sacrificing yourself for the mission.”
Holy fucking shit.
My heart breaks for her, and all I can do is reach across the table and take her hand, knowing without a doubt that Reaper and I have to do something about this. We can’t let her take the win only to end up right back there after we’re gone.
“What do you mean number?” Reaper asks, his usual mask of indifference beginning to slip.
“The organization . . . They don’t believe in names. It weakens us. It’s seen as an unnecessary luxury that conforms to typical family values. Offering somebody a name is to give them value, and once they’ve been given that, they will learn to depend on it, and soon enough, they are a slave to their emotions. Allowing yourself to be ruled by simple human emotions . . . It’s weak. And weakness has no place in our organization. I am known as thirty-eight.”