Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kieran

Fox had been right all along. I should've cut Tomás loose. I should've buried my feelings for him before it got me here. This whole shitstorm had my body out of whack. I wasn't like this. My missions tossed me to the remote places of the world, and I'd always been prepared. My meds neatly packed, available. Everything in order. If I didn't regulate my glucose, I was a dead man. If I didn't hide that weakness from the world, I was a dead man. I tended to my levels and changed into snow gear before heading out with my bow and quiver. I didn't trust that Jack had been working alone so I decided to secure the area. If Cillian knew about the takeover, I was fucked. Fox may have been pissed, but I wasn't leaving until I found some answers. If we couldn't get out in Wren's car in the morning, I'd call a flatbed to tow it back to the school.

The cold landscape was just what I needed to calm my mind. Fox's hunting cabin lay about a quarter mile off the beaten path, only found if you were looking for it. I'd turned on the cell jammer in the cabin before leaving, which meant Tomás couldn't contact anyone while I was away.

I needed to debrief Tor about Jack. Tor was a strategist by nature. He did nothing that he hadn't calculated for risk first. And unlike Fox, he wasn't biased when it came to Tomás. I trusted his judgement.

I reached the jamming perimeter and dialed Tor. He didn't answer. I hadn't expected him to. There was no invitation to leave a message. Just a beep. I snorted. "Sorry bud, wrong number," I said in a deep voice and hung up. That was my passcode for a callback. Wren had a drunk code where he giggled endlessly and hung up. Henry would act as if he'd dialed his mother. River had a southern accent that had him sounding like Lucas Black. And Fox's code word was pressing random numbers on the dial pad. He refused to leave a voice message anywhere. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. "Dude?" I said evenly.

"You're good. What's up?"

I told him what Tomás said about Jack and the takeover. "We need to move up our timetable. If everything is still good, don't wait for me. I don't have to be there." Though I had wanted to see the devastation on my grandfather's face when he found out he no longer owned his own company. And Tristan's. The mission came first, not my hubris.

"Do you trust Tomás?"

Wasn't that the million-dollar question. "No," I said. "I don't trust anyone."

I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "Good, means you're learning. Where are you?"

"At the hunting cabin. We got stuck here because of the snow."

"You mean you stayed behind because of Tomás. Fox called me and told me what happened. He also said he left your ass there. He believes you might be compromised. Are you compromised, Kieran?"

When I was eleven, I killed my first venison under my grandfather's scrutiny. I had used a 30 Cal rifle that had left my shoulder bruised. I had cried when we came up on the dying animal. A life. The first of many I'd take since then. But unlike the enemies I had put down later, the deer had done nothing but existed. It hadn't died right away. It bled. Dark bottomless pits for eyes stared up at me. Cillian had been proud, until I threw up. And then I refused to end the deer's life. My grandfather had made me watch it suffer. "You did that. Now you must ease its passing." He wasn't wrong.

He gave me a knife and pushed me to my knees. My pants soaked in its blood. Cillian guided my small fist to the deer's throat. I felt the moment the blade pierced the thick hide. The moment it gave away to softer tissue. Blood had pooled between my fingers, saturated my hand. I had cried throughout it all. Afterward, he taught me my first lesson. If I ever challenged or questioned him, I would learn through pain. He'd tied me to the same post we'd strung up the venison and whipped me. Three lashes the first time. Five the second. There hadn't been a third time, the scars a reminder of my failures.

I wouldn't fail ever again. I couldn't fail in this, even if it meant losing Tomás. "No," I finally said.

"Good. Don't make me have to give you time out."

I chuckled. Tor going for a lighter mood in his deadly voice shouldn't have been funny, but it was. It reminded me that even if I made a mistake in judgement, I was still safe. "I need to know if there's a contract out on me or him. I need to know if the attack on him was sanctioned or something personal with Jack."

"I'll get Graham to check. Give me an hour." He hung up before I could respond.

After walking the perimeter for a few hours, I started to head back when a car entered the path. Quickly, I hid behind a row of trees where I shrugged out of my bulky coat, remaining in the lining for ease of movement.

I watched and waited until the SUV slid to a stop at the start of the narrow path. He seemed to know where the hell he was going. How? A question for later. He hopped off, slipping on the slick surface but holding on to the truck to keep from falling. There were a few rules when hunting. One being that you should learn about the game you were hunting. In this case, it was a human. I recognized him as Antonio Esposito. Age: 26: Dark hair, dark eyes. Pegged him at one eighty, average height. And he was alone. He may have been a prime enforcer back in the city but here in the treacherous mountains he was nothing but game.

A gun in his right hand. A Beretta M9A3 with a suppressor, if I had to guess. And he was part of the Brennan's security team. I'd seen him take orders from Cillian more than once. What was going on?

Although I preferred guns, they left forensic evidence behind. The reason some of the best assassins, Tor included, preferred blades. There was something more intimate about a close assault kill. Tor thrived on that shit. I preferred a long-range rifle. The bow had to do.

The snow had begun to taper. The cold settled somewhere outside my body. I didn't feel anything but the weight of my bow, the quiver at my back, and the arrow in my right hand. Once I decided on the place for a kill shot, I'd be exposed. There wouldn't be time enough for surrender. I had to make the shot count. Twenty yards out, I stopped moving. Antonio caught sound and stopped. His body going rigid, his eyes scanning the tree line. Fucker made himself an open target just for wanting to see. But he couldn't see me. Not until I wanted him to. I narrowed my field of vision to the hand holding the gun. Then I pulled the string taut, feeling my back muscles work, and breathed slow. The release pinged, the arrow made a beautiful zing sound as it cut through the air.

Antonio didn't even see it coming. It pierced his hand clean through releasing him of the weapon. He screamed, hugging his hand as he ducked behind the truck. Already on the move, I took position on his left flank. He'd live if I allowed it.

"Why are you here?" I called out from my position.

He swore a few times. "Your grandfather sent me, you prick." I hung low as he scanned the area for me.

"He didn't call, Antonio. You came as a threat to me. You know how this works."

"Fuck you! You're a dead man!"

"I'll ask one more time. Why are you here?"

"The boy!" he yelled. I had my sights on him perfectly. I let an arrow loose. It struck inches to the left of his skull.

"Be more specific. I know a lot of boys."

"Tomás! Your grandfather wants Tomás!"

My blood turned colder than the air around me. "Why!"

"I don't know! He's pissed off at something. I don't know!"

I believed him. It also made him useless to me now. If I let him go, he'd notify every son of a bitch in the area that I was here. With no transportation out of these mountains, I was an open target.

I stopped thinking and let the darkness I'd trained into my soul and body take over. On an inhale, I strung another arrow. This one landed center mass through his chest. He slumped over. I broke cover and sprinted down the hill toward him. The arrow had pierced his heart. At least it'd been quick. The only kindness I could offer a threat. I gripped the end of the arrow tight and yanked it out, creating more of a mess at extraction. The arrow tip looked intact. I cleaned as much of the blood and flesh on the snow and shoved it back into my quiver.

I tried the phone to get back to Tor, but the jammer was still on. I couldn't get through. Tomás. Grandfather found out about Tomás. About the takeover. How? I grinded my teeth together. Questions were useless now. I had to focus on the mission at hand. Saving Tomás was my mission now. I couldn't let anything happen to him because of me. No more collateral damage. Grandfather was going to regret ever taking me away from the only family I knew.

He was going to regret turning me into this dangerous killer.

I didn't just want his money now. I wanted his fucking life.