CHAPTER 3

Nika

Out in the middle ofnothing but dense forest sat a run-down cabin, and I sensed the magic in the air the second we came near it. Since I excelled in defensive magic, I already knew there would be different types of traps all over the grounds, and it'd require a clever mind and quick foot to find my way over to the door. Granted, it wasn't impossible, but I imagine the rigged grounds would alert Silas with enough time to either fight back or escape if anyone were to venture too close.

At least he's living up to Lev's admiration of him, even if he's obnoxious as shit to deal with.

The windows were fogged over, and wildlife overtook the structure. To an outsider, it looked abandoned. But once Silas's gorgeous magic fed into the door, it creaked open, and inside was a place completely put together and equipped to the teeth with whatever equipment and weapons a mercenary might need.

I was led inside and over to the couch before Silas took a knee in front of me, eyes expectantly on mine. "I need to see them, love." Offering him a quizzical brow, he elaborated, "Your injuries, yeah?"

I balked openly. "The fuck you will. I can handle my own wound care, thank you very much. Just give me potions, and I'll take the necessary steps to heal them."

As if expecting a fight, Silas tutted me with a finger and smirked. "No dice, princess. The intensity of the potion depends on the injuries, and I need to inspect them to know how much you need."

Scoffing, I crossed my arms and ignored how much it hurt just to do that much. "Over my dead body, mercenary. No one sees my body without my say so, and I won't be manipulated into more than what's necessary. Use your magic if you must, but I'm not removing one fucking item of clothing."

The sparkle in gold irises that for the briefest second appeared silver captured my interest before Silas got to his feet and peered down at me from his towering position. "You're quite the diva, aren't you? I could argue I'm not interested in seeing your body, but something tells me you'd see right through any lie I told you."

"How astute of you," I clapped back sarcastically. "Guess you know when it's time to back the fuck down."

Silas carded angry fingers through his hair, but his lips were tilted like it was the most fun he'd had in a while. "Fuck, it had to be a sassy and unreasonable one..."

I didn't dignify the snide comment with a response and merely stared up at the brute with nothing short of unmovable authority. I hadn't gotten this far in life refusing to bow my head to bastards for this mercenary to be any exception.

Cerulean magic swirled around his hands before twirling and creating a sparkling vortex around my body. Then Silas's eyes dimmed, and his jaw tautened perceivably. "They weren't kind to you. Bloody bastards nearly broke every bone in your body. How can you even move with those injuries, love?"

He might think pity didn't seep into his expression, but I saw it clear as day, and I hated how it made me feel. It was rare for me to show weakness to anyone, and the mere fact that this brute saw it within an hour of meeting me was enough to bring bile into my throat. I wasn't pitiful, and I refused to tell him I was used to these kinds of injuries. Or how, for a long time, I was targeted by my own kind when their anger was at its greatest towards the Light. They didn't take too kindly to my passionate speeches about unity.

I was my father's daughter, they would say. The Scorned.

But it was rare these days that anyone got the jump on me. I was fast to defend, and I was absolutely lethal with weapons, potion use, and hand-to-hand combat. Because magic required a certain amount of focus, many didn't stand a chance against me. I'd have a dagger saturated with poison six-inches-deep into their throat before they managed to defend themselves.

The thing about the Dark Fae was they were incredibly arrogant and self-centered. So, at first, I was underestimated. When I came into my Fae magic and struggled to control it, many thought I was an easy target. However, they quickly learned I had other means to overpower them. Because Dark Fae typically relied singularly on their magic, they were weak to melee—weak to my defensive magic and assassin-level combat skills.

Of course, I was still vulnerable to powerful magical attacks and supernatural beings who channeled and did both. It was the entire reason I was caught and tortured. My father had his reasons, but he left me to deal with the fallout, and for that, I blamed him. For that, I'd demand why he didn't warn me or give me the chance to fight by his side.

Silas retrieved several bottles and handed them to me. "I don't have the stuff that works miracles, love, but it'll mend the bones and heal the worst of the internal injuries over the next few days. This one will dull the pain receptors, so be careful not to agitate your wounds for the next day or two."

The mercenary went to a knee again, gorgeous silver hair falling over his gold eyes as he looked down and stole the glove right off my hand. In a mere blink of the eye, his hand was locked into a painful hold, my dagger aimed directly at his jugular and ready to sink in at the slightest movement.

For the first time since we'd met, Silas's bright gold eyes went ice-cold, and his body poised for a fight. The silver sheen I thought I'd seen earlier was there but quickly gone. Stealing a look at the dagger, then the hand I'd captured with a finger already pulled back, ready to break it clean off, Silas let loose a breath, no longer smiling or projecting his usual good humor.

No, if anything, it was like the mercenary finally saw me for who and what I truly was. Not as a damsel in distress and at the mercy of him—or really any person—but as someone who had calculated their escape and prepared for the worst by employing his services.

For the first time, Silas regarded me as his equal.

"You're faster than most of the strong Fae I've had the misfortune of crossing." It wasn't a question; it was a statement. His eyes didn't leave mine for every heartbeat my dagger was aimed at his throat. "And prettier to boot," he added, the tension in his face and body easing.

My lips thinned, but I released him and sheathed the dagger. "I don't like being touched."

Silas was quiet for a moment, then he laughed softly to himself. "Aye, consider it a lesson learned, love. I'll be careful not to make that mistake again."

His eyes dropped to my hand, which normally was pure snow-white but was presently a deeply terrifying black-and-blue with my nails torn from the root. I bit my lower lip and snatched the healing balm the mercenary planned to use on me. As if mesmerized, the oversized brute watched me gently rub the balm onto my hand. I didn't let one whisper of a moan or gasp leave my lips, no matter how much it hurt to touch. Couldn't show any amount of weakness to this contract killer who could easily be bought out by my enemies.

"The more I watch you, the more I see your father in you," was the surprising comment that swiftly broke my focused trance.

Jerking my head up, our eyes met, and his glistening gold irises moved and swirled like they were made of liquid metal. "You know my father?"

Before he could answer, Silas's pocket beamed. The mercenary quickly retrieved a communication stone and held it out in his palm. A face looming in smoke appeared above the lavender stone, disguised and unfamiliar. "Trevion?"

I'd heard the name before, but I couldn't remember where.

With communication stones, unless you were the intended party, their identities were hidden, so this so-called Trevion wouldn't see or know I was there. Because we weren't sure who our enemies were, I kept silent and trusted Silas knew better than to give me away.

"Silas. The Brotherhood has been hired to seek out the Dark Fae rebel. Reaper, to be specific."

Silas's jaw tensed, and I could tell right away that the name wasn't one he was happy to hear. Granted, a name like Reaper hardly sounded like an enemy you'd want to be on the wrong side of.

Sifting through his silky hair in agitation, Silas grumbled to himself. "Who else?"

"Bear Claw, Night Stalker, and Vapor."

Silas's gold eyes beamed, and the silver sheen was back, nearly colliding with gold. His entire demeanor shifted. "So the whole fucking Death Team. Bloody fantastic. When did they leave?"

"Please tell me you didn't take the job..." Silas didn't answer, so Trevion sighed loudly and continued, "About fifteen minutes ago. They'll be looking in all the usual places. I hope you were smart enough not to use any of them."

Instead of answering, Silas cut off the communication and rushed around the room to gather equipment and weapons. I downed the potions I was given and got to my feet, already feeling the pain ebbing away. Helping myself to whatever I found, I started to gather what I could use and stock up on the necessary potions for any kind of trouble we'd run into.

I had a few things, like my daggers and magic alongside an enchanted jacket I wore at all times, but I knew better than to think that'd be enough. Especially with assholes like ones who called themselves the Death Team trailing us.

Silas was suddenly in front of me, holding out a dagger that didn't look like anything I'd ever seen. It was clear from blade to handle, like it was made of glass. "I feel a bit better that you're not some dead weight princess, so use this. It'll burn them from the inside out. And if you're quick like you were with me, those poor sods won't stand a bloody chance in hell against you."

Taking the weapon, I couldn't help but smile. It was the second time since we met that Silas was visibly taken aback. He froze like an asshole in front of me before pivoting and throwing a bag over his shoulder. Clearing his throat and brushing back his silver hair, the oversized mercenary led me all the way to a back door before recovering another small gem from his jacket.

I peered down at the all-blue stone, finally recognizing it. "An invisibility stone?"

"The more precautions we take with this team, the better. Those Fae I mentioned not crossing earlier is this bloody lot of lethal, for-hire killers," Silas grumbled angrily as if it pained him to even admit such a truth. "We'll need to get ground on them, but they'll shoot us down the second they know we're there, so it's imperative we are neither heard nor seen, yeah?"

It was a clever move. Depending on the strength of whoever enchanted the stone, it'd be difficult to sense us even with tracking magic. It wouldn't pose too much of a challenge for me to move silently now that I no longer felt the pain of my injuries.

"I assume it was created by a powerful caster?"

Silas's lips tilted into a boyish grin. "You might be a saucy bird, but at least you're clever and terrifyingly good with your hands. Makes a bloke curious, it does."

Recognizing the flirtatious tone his deep baritone had adopted, I sighed in defeat. "Let's get a move on, then."

The silver-haired giant's happy laugh only served to annoy me further, but I didn't pay it any mind. It was clear to me the gorgeous contract killer was used to having his way with women, but I wouldn't be one of them.

Not in this life or the next.

I bemoaned what it'd require to share the stone's power, but it was a necessary evil with the Dark Fae Society's killers already on their way here. Or so I gathered from what Trevion previously disclosed.

Holding out my hand after removing the glove—this sort of magic required unobstructed physical touch—I offered it to Silas, taking the troll of a man slightly off-kilter with shock. "Dare I gasp you'd be the first to offer to touch me, love?"

"Just take it before I find a reason to use my dagger on you, mercenary. We don't have time to be making a big deal out of everything I do," I hissed, already close to stabbing him as a warning to later indiscretions.

His unbelievably warm hand encompassed mine, and I barely smothered my reaction to the electric shock that quickly traveled down my spine from the touch. Silas's gold eyes wandered my face and body in curiosity as if he, too, felt the electric jolt. But if he had, the mercenary didn't let me know. Instead, Silas's magic swirled in the hand holding the stone, activating it.

After the magic enchantment blanketed both of us, he opened the back door and tugged me behind him to follow. We moved quickly, my eyes wherever his weren't, and for what felt like hours, we didn't talk or really breathe too loudly.

As dawn set on the land, the world came to life, and Silas finally spoke, "There's an underground tunnel network near here that will lead us to one of the towns about twenty klicks away. We'll need to move carefully. The Brotherhood has eyes everywhere."

Nodding, I eyed our joined hands, somehow completely used to the feeling of his large hand eclipsing mine. "The stone won't last much longer at this rate. We should save it for when we're in town."

To my surprise, Silas released my hand and the electric feel of its enchantment eased away to nothing. He pocketed the stone and peered around us, clearly thinking about our options from here. "We're still not in the clear. Reaper is a clairvoyant. He sees images of those he focuses on, and I'm confident he was given something to connect with you. If he so much as gets within a five-mile radius of us, it'll be impossible to outwit him," Silas explained, carding back his hair and finally walking again.

I followed, keeping every step light and soundless. "And the other three?"

Silas had a crossbow on his shoulder and kept a vigilant watch despite answering my question. "Bear Claw is, as you might deduce from the name, a shapeshifter. His primary form is a bear, but he can shift into a wolf as well, so be careful. He's fast and goes straight for the throat. Plus, he can track any scent from miles away—Light or Dark, doesn't matter. He has a beast's nose, and nothing sneaks past him."

Silas stepped closer, his body nearly touching mine, but I didn't utter a word of complaint. Now wasn't the time to take issue with it. My only goal was to get every bit of information I could about my foes. The more I knew about the team hunting me, the more prepared I'd be for their attacks.

"Vapor, also obnoxiously on nose with his name, can teleport and move in mist form. Physical attacks are pointless when he takes that form, so you'll need to leave that bugger to me, seeing how you struggle to control your power."

I opened my mouth, then shut it. I'd argue I was still pretty adept at defensive magic, but he wasn't wrong that without an offense, I didn't stand a chance against someone like that.

"Night Stalker is a sadistic piece of shite. He's a highly trained assassin and can blind his marks with a single moment of eye contact, so don't ever look in his eyes. And if you can, don't use sight at all with him. He's quick as fuck and it's not worth the risk."

I listened carefully, thankful that Silas was at least treating me like someone who could hold my own in a fight. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified hearing the mix of lethal skills the group employed. But dying out here was better than dying at the hands of the Dark Fae, so I'd do what I could to find my father. Or at the very least, figure out why he gave me that address.