The blood drains from Thomas’ face, and the rise and fall of his chest quickens. He’s bloody terrified. Hell,I’mterrified.
“Do… do you remember last year when Mother took me on that mission?” he asks. “The one I was trying to get out of?”
I think back. There was a certain job Thomas had been eager to give to someone else a year ago. It was an assassination.
Despite growing up in the Requiem since ten years old, Thomas has never enjoyed killing. To live like we do, you have to be able to take, which is why he’s been forced to take out about five bodies. That’s way less than any of us, but enough to keep him qualified.
But I’m still lost. “Yes, what about it?”
“They didn’t tell me her name because Mum thought it might make it easier for me to take out a nameless person.” He swallows hard.
My throat dries. I can tell where he’s going with this.
“And I always blank after I do it. The victim’s face becomes a blur in my mind—I think it’s my body’s way of coping. It’s happened every time.”
Please, no. “Get to the point, Tommy.”
“Don’t you get it? Looking at this picture is what gave that blurry image a face again. This was the woman I shot and killed on her wedding day.” He points aggressively at the phone, his breaths erratic.
Blood pools in my ears as I shake my head. I don’t fucking believe him.
“Rip.” Thomas grips my shoulders, forcing my eyes to meet his. “I killed Kingsley’s fiancée. I murdered Sylvie Crenshaw.”
24
Kingsley
“So there’s still no leads on Ryland?”
Shawn shakes his head as he flips through a large stack of files. “It’s like he vanished into thin air. I don’t even know where else to look.”
I lean back against the leather seat and groan. Every meeting I have with Shawn kills my mood because it always ends exactly where we started. Nowhere.
Shawn runs a hand through his hair. “I won’t lie: I’m not sure he’s even alive. If he were, someone would’ve found him by now.”
“Stop being so pessimistic,” I scold.
But honestly, I’m thinking the same thing.
Ryland’s always been tough; that’s why he’s assigned to guarding and patrolling the grounds—he’s skilled at it. But, like most, he can’t hold on forever. Whoever’s got him and whatever they’re doing to him, he’s likely fed them the information they wanted. And once they get what they want, they have no further use.
I swallow the lump in my throat. Are we looking for Ryland’s corpse? It wouldn’t be the first time we searched for a dead body, but it’d be the first time that body belonged to my friend.
Shawn frowns. “Maybe I’m wrong.”
“Damn straight you’re wrong.” A voice booms behind us.
As I glance over my shoulder, a familiar face greets me. I gasp. “Mateo?”
With a huge smile, Mateo opens his arms, going in for a strong bro hug. Shawn and I are quick to reciprocate. My cousin Mateo has the same faint mustache I’ve been telling him to shave, but his brown curls are longer, and he has more piercings than before. And by the looks of his newly decorated leg, more tattoos too.
Shawn looks up at Mateo. He’s always hated their height difference. “When did you get back?”
“About a week ago,” Mateo answers as he sits in the booth across from us. “This is my first time back in the base, though. Lee, I’m surprised to see you.”
Shawn, Mateo, Ryland, and I used to frequent this area of the base. It’s a cozy spot two floors above the fight club, tucked away from the training chaos and equipped with lounge chairs and a bar. This specific booth became ours.
After Sylvie, I stopped showing up, like I stopped hanging out with the guys. I didn’t realize it, but once I stopped coming, so did my friends.
