Chapter Three

Reed

Shit. My adrenaline pumps so hard in my veins to the point that I feel like I might pass out. My head is spinning, and my chest is practically spasming out of control. I crossed a line I swore I wouldn't. After years of keeping regular human emotions at bay, I tasted the delicious red apple. I let the devil win. Mila's mouth beckoned me in, and I caved to the urges I never knew I had.

Even through all my schooling and growing up in Savage Lakes surrounded by co-eds, I never once broke. No girl has ever caught my attention. No boys did either. I started to assume maybe I was just the type who never got excited by something as simple as a text from someone, let alone the feeling of someone's lips melting under mine. It had never happened. And it wasn't as if other women hadn't tried. In order to blend in and get close to targets, I've spent time in some seedy environments filled with women wearing next to nothing, sometimes grinding all over my lap and sometimes using their wandering hands to lure me behind closed doors in order to stick a knife in me. I'd like to think it's my ability not to lose my self-control that sets me apart for this job. I always assumed that the trauma of my childhood, a time I barely remember, except for my mother's vacant eyes staring back at me as she lay in a pool of blood, had turned off the switch in my brain that programmed emotions. I've never hesitated to take a life because I can't feel the remorse of doing so. Even Matt believed this was the case; it's what gave him the confidence to give me this position in Rogue.

My hands glide over the smooth cut of my hair, fingers digging into my scalp, trying to stop the thundering of blood rushing under my skin. I kissed Mila. I gave into the temptation, and she didn't stop me. She didn't even back away from me in fear. Mila claims to know what I do, but I don't trust that she fully grasps the details. I literally spend all my time searching and tracking down people I need to kill and dispose of, before they can find or expose Rogue to the criminal underworld. There is a two-word phrase for where my body count is at: serial killer. I am not approachable. I like to be alone, but now she's here in my home. My chest squeezes viciously at the thought, knowing all my secrets will be laid bare to the one person I didn't want to see this side of me. For the first time in my life, there is a situation that is not going as planned and I'm not sure how to handle it.

Ciaran's frustration from yesterday pushes to the forefront of my mind. I told him I'd let him know if I found anything. Mila hasn't told anyone about her ability to move out of her chair. As far as I know, they have been planning for her college experience, believing she needed ramps and lower-level access to amenities. I even helped push some of her paperwork with admissions to make sure she got everything she deserved. I grit my teeth. Ciaran doesn't know. Saylor doesn't know. So for sure, Kelly, Jason and Matt do not know. I'm not good with secrets. Not the kind, anyway, that can create chaos and drama.

My eyes close and I see Mila standing in front of me again, telling me her plans. I don't hate them and that worries me. The phone in my pocket feels weighted, just like the decision I have to make. I don't have to say anything to anyone. Ciaran and Saylor could wait until Mila's ready. Mila did say she wanted to tell them. I could help her find a way, that's untraceable, to let them know she's alive and well. It's not like they will come find me to search for her. None of them even know where I am. There is a twinge of something like guilt when I think of Matt. I'd be keeping something vital from him, not that I haven't before, but knowing that Matt cares for Mila and her family creates a nagging feeling I don't like. This is all so damn confusing.

My fingers grab at my scalp again, as if I could physically pull out the answer from my brain. This isn't me. I don't get tied up in situations like this. They're too messy and often lead to lies and distrust. But it's Mila. And that is the real problem. If she was anyone else, anyone not associated with Rogue, it wouldn't feel like such a gut punch. If I hadn't met her at her absolute worst and spent the time getting to know her, maybe I'd feel less betrayed by her actions. I'm not even sure why I feel betrayed. She's physically better. That should be something she celebrated, but instead, she chose to use that miracle to find me. Silas won't even be looking at the cameras for a girl who is walking; he'll be too focused on anyone in a wheelchair or scooter, or someone with some sort of walking impairment using crutches. My heartbeat feels heavy, and I use my hand to massage over my heart. Mila planned this perfectly and I hate to admit, but I'm almost impressed. What does that say about me?