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"Not old enough," he said, and from where she walked alongside him, his face seemed very serious. "Today I asked Lucan if I could join the Order. He told me I had to wait until I was at least twenty before I even thought about asking him again."
Mira gaped at him. "You want to be a warrior?"
His mouth took on a hard look, his eyes narrowing on some unseen point in the distance.
"I want to avenge my family. I need to win back my honor after Dragos stole it from me." He blew out a sharp laugh that didn't sound like laughter at all. "Lucan and my grandfather say those aren't the right reasons to join a war. If they're not, then I don't know what is."
Mira studied Kellan's face, her heart hurting for the sadness she saw in him. In the few days she'd spent with him since he'd arrived at the compound, Kellan hadn't said much about his family or his feelings about missing them. She had seen him crying a couple of times alone in his quarters, but he didn't know that.
He also didn't know that she'd taken it upon herself to be his friend whether he liked it or not. Every night she said a little prayer for him, a ritual she'd started the moment she first heard the boy had been kidnapped from his Darkhaven. She'd kept on praying for him, even after his rescue, because it seemed to her that he'd needed the extra help in getting better. Now it had become a habit for her, one she figured she would stop once she was able to look at Kellan and not see so much private sorrow in his eyes.
"Hey," she said, trudging alongside him deeper into the gardens as they continued on after the dogs. "Maybe I'll ask Lucan if I can join the Order someday too."
Kellan laughed - actually turned a surprised look on her and laughed out loud. He had a nice laugh, she realized, the first she'd ever heard it. He had dimples too, one in each lean cheek. They appeared as he chuckled and shook his head at her. "You can't join the Order."
"Why not?" she asked, more than a little stung.
"Because you're a girl, for one thing."
"Renata's a girl," she pointed out.
"Renata's ... different," he replied. "I've seen what she can do with those blades of hers. She's fast, and she's got killer aim. She's wicked tough."
"I'm tough too," Mira said, wishing her voice didn't sound so wounded. "Watch, I'll show you."
She veered off their path to hunt for something to throw. Searching for a good stick or a rock - anything she could use to impress Kellan with her abilities - Mira weaved through the covered flower beds, around the burlap-wrapped shrubs, and into the maze of statuary and evergreens that spread out across the long backyard of the estate.
"Just a second," she called to him from within the cover of the gardens. "I'll be right ... back ..."
At first, she wasn't sure what she was looking at. Up ahead of her on the moonlit ground, shadowed by the surrounding pines and shrubbery, was a large, dark form. Luna and Harvard stood near it, alternately pacing and pausing to sniff at the motionless shape. The little terrier whined as Mira drifted closer.
"Come here, guys," she ordered the dogs, waiting as they both loped over. Her heart was hammering in her chest, beating a hundred miles an hour. Something was wrong here, really wrong. She glanced down as the dogs circled nervously at her feet. Their paws left dark stains in the snow around her boots.
Blood.
Mira screamed.
Hunter brought the young assassin into the back of the box truck and laid his motionless body on the floor. Corinne was beside him, holding her son's hand, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"His hands are so strong," she murmured. "My God ... I can't believe it's really him."
Hunter said nothing to spoil her moment, but he knew very well that the boy was far from safe yet. It had been a risk simply to remove him from the house. The UV collar around his neck would be programmed to allow only a certain distance from the assassin's cell without Dragos's permission. With the Minion dead on the front porch, the risk of the collar detonating was doubled.
As though the boy himself sensed the tenuousness of his situation, he began to rouse back to consciousness. He started struggling, his eyelids lifting wide. Corinne drew in her breath, her tension and worry spiking Hunter's pulse through their bond.
Hunter held the boy by the collar, his fingers wrapped around the thick black polymer. He gave a warning shake of his head. "You must be still. There is nowhere for you to go."
"Nathan, don't be frightened," Corinne soothed, her voice gentle and warm. "We're not here to hurt you."
The boy's gaze flicked between the two of them. Hunter suspected it was knowledge of the collar's purpose that kept the teenage assassin from risking escape, more so than the compassion Corinne offered. Nathan's nostrils flared as he panted under Hunter's hold, his face as untrusting as that of a trapped wild animal.
"We have to get rid of the collar if the boy stands any chance of leaving this place," he told Corinne. "Dragos may already be aware that his handler is dead. He could have sensors and communication devices planted all over the grounds."
"How can we remove the collar?" she asked, meeting his gaze with a stricken look. "I know what happens if it's tampered with. We can't possibly take a chance that it ..."
When she didn't seem able to finish the thought, Hunter told her gently, "We have to try something. If we don't, it could be only a matter of seconds before the collar detonates in my hand."
She glanced away from Hunter then, looking back down at her son. He was listening to every word they said, silent but absorbing all of his surroundings. Calculating his means and odds of escape, just the same as Hunter would be doing if he was the one trapped by a pair of strangers.
