Kai

KAI

The last time I felt this tired, I'd just come off a mission that had seen me trying to survive a week of constant walking, climbing, and fighting. Even returning to the extraction point made me want to drop on the spot and let the desert take me. If it weren't for the fact that I had been responsible for the surviving members of the squad, where they needed me to keep pushing them to get back home, I probably would have.

Again, I needed to keep pushing forward for the sake of someone other than myself. Hunter had done his part, but mine was only just reaching its last leg. The entire night had been an absolute disaster. I'd known, and though he hadn't said it, I suspected Hunter had also known that going after Callum would be the hardest thing we did and probably the messiest.

Of course, I hadn't considered the possibility that we would be attacked while we were supposed to be safe, which was downright stupid on my part. I was supposed to be the one who had experience dealing with the harshest and most ugly parts of people. Yet I had let myself get complacent and comfortable and ignored a simple tactic that worked well. Wait until your opponent is comfortable and at their most vulnerable, somewhere they think they're safe, and strike them there.

Now, we had a mess on our hands. Sure, Callum was done, slumped over in our bedroom, his two mercenaries a bloody mess in the hallway. Yet it hadn't come without cost, and I wasn't just counting the ribs I was sure were either broken or cracked. Now we had a Senator's son dead in our apartment, two other dead men, and a woman who?—

No, I couldn't think about watching them drag her into the room and killing her in front of me to prove they weren't above making other people suffer for what we'd done. The way her eyes flashed to me desperately, wide and wet, begging me to do anything while I struggled against the men holding me. Or the horror on her face when Callum used one of the mercenary's knives to open her throat.

No, that was for later.

Now was for finding the phone I'd dropped when they got the drop on me. I walked past the bodies in the hallway and staunchly refused to look at Brooke's body in the living room. What mattered was dealing with immediate threats to the living. I could mourn and regret the dead later.

I found the phone on the floor, but it seemed like someone had stamped on it while struggling to subdue me. If it hadn't been for the taser, they probably wouldn't have been so effective at getting me, even though I was outnumbered and taken by surprise. The phone wasn't a problem; the SD card was still intact. I went to the closet, grabbed one of the two burner phones I'd bought just in case, slid the card into the slot, and powered it on.

I had already gone through the setup process after buying them, so all that was left was to import my contacts. Scrolling down the list, I found the number I was looking for and hit dial, praying that wherever he was, Stitch would answer...and be able to help.

"Alpha," came his cool greeting. Everyone considered him cold and unfeeling, which I suppose, in many ways, he was. Then again, if someone was getting you information, a sharp focus and cold demeanor were pretty helpful. But the upside was, if you spent enough time around him, you learned to read the subtleties of his tone, and that was warm for him.

"I told you not to call me that," I said with a sigh. "Even more now people use that word to prop their egos up."

"Heard, Alpha," he said, and I rolled my eyes, knowing he was giving me shit.

I sighed. "Stitch...I'm not even in the military anymore. There's no need for that."

"And yet you refer to me by the pet nickname they gave me, and you adopted," he pointed out, not unfairly.

"True, but at least your nickname makes people think of an adorable Disney creation and not some guy who posts the creepiest shit imaginable on their Instagram," I said with a roll of my eyes.

"And in what particular universe have I ever given the impression I want to be associated with an adorable Disney creation?"

"Probably about as much as I want to be associated with morons who call themselves alphas."

"Then rest easy. Other people gave you the name...and it suits you."

"Not really."

"You know how to take charge of a situation when it's called for, and you know how to step back to let others have their moment to shine. Others trust you when you're in charge, and you handle a crisis with ease, and you know how to take it easy and enjoy yourself. If there were ever a better personality to be called an alpha, it would be yours."

"I..." Getting an outright compliment and a detailed one from Stitch threw me off, and I found myself at a loss for words. "Thank you, Stitch. What has you so sentimental?"

"I believe the better question would be, why are you calling me?"

"Is there a way to speak without being...overheard?" I asked, trying to emphasize the last word without being obvious.

"There is. But you'll have to let me in."

"Let you in? Let you in where?"

"To the building."

I stared at the apartment door, almost expecting a knock, until I remembered I'd have to go downstairs for that. "I...you're here?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Airplane. And then a car rental. Then a room."

"I...why?"

"Alpha."

"I...sure," I said, thoughts spinning with the implications and confusion before I stepped out of the room. I looked down the hallway to find Hunter in his bedroom doorway, watching me. "I'll be right back, Hunter. Our...help is here."

The look of confusion on his face made me shake my head because I didn't have any answers for him. All I could do was walk through the door, down the stairs, and into the café, scanning it out of habit and relieved to find several pairs of eyes glowing in the dark despite the slight surprise it gave me. The cats had all made a mad dash, and though I didn't have the time to check, it looked like all of them were safe.

"Back door," came Stitch's voice in my ear, making me jump.

"Jesus," I said, glancing up at the camera in the corner. "Are you fucking watching...you're in the camera feeds, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Right."

Sighing, I made my way to the door to the back alley and frowned, realizing it was already unlocked, which answered how they'd managed to get in. Considering the alarm hadn't gone off, I didn't worry about opening the door, as they'd clearly interrupted that.

Opening the door, I ended the call, and my brow rose at the sight standing in the alleyway. Stitch had always looked slightly strange. It was his big eyes, distant yet intensely sharp in a way that never made sense, and the prominent cheekbones on an otherwise narrow face. It always left me feeling like he wasn't quite of this world and had been dropped off by an elf or some creature from another dimension.

Gone were the clean face and the meticulously short hair of the military. His blond hair had grown out, the sides of his head still shaved, and the top allowed to rest to one side. There was carefully styled stubble on his face, three rings piercing one of his thin brows and one through one side of his bottom lip. A tattoo that would have never passed muster crept up the side of his neck, looking like tendrils of some creature and ending in jagged claws whose points ended on the underside of his jaw.

"Jesus, definitely didn't get snagged by any government agency," I blurted out at the sight of him.

"Alpha," he said in that calm voice of his. "Probably best I come in and assess the mess you two have made."

"O...kay," I said, stepping back and letting him in, closing the door behind him and locking it. Not that the lock had done much good, but it made me feel better. "I'm going to love what is coming up. I can sense it."

"Your sarcasm is noted, and your instincts are as sharp as ever. This meeting will be informative and perhaps stressful," he said, gesturing ahead. "If you would. I imagine an unknown person coming into his apartment would cause a stir after everything that's happened."

"Loving this," I repeated in a sing-song voice as I led him up the stairs and into the apartment. I was surprised Hunter wasn't waiting in the hallway. Instead, I could hear him doing something in the kitchen. "Hunter, when you're done...doing whatever you're doing, we have company."

"Thank you for the obvious," Hunter called back, his tone unreadable other than the tension.

"At least he's cracking jokes. That's something," I muttered as Stitch walked toward the mess in the hallway, and I closed the door.

I followed him as he peered down at the two bodies with a low hum before speaking again. "Black Hat again."

"They were a group of friends with money and connections. I'm not surprised they used the same company for their dirty business. I expected it, really."

"But didn't expect the attack."

"No."

"Not like you. Has love and home made you sloppy?"

"Without things like love or a sense of bonding, I wouldn't have been the ‘Alpha' you all needed me to be."

He took the counterargument in stride, thinking about it before nodding and stepping into the living room. After a moment, he looked at me, and despite barely moving, I could sense the question he was asking. In turn, I could only swallow hard and turn my face away, not afraid to show him the guilt and the sorrow. Stitch was an odd guy, but he understood loss and never judged another for their feelings unless they were in his way.

"Bedroom," I said when he finally turned away, and I watched as Stitch strode down the hallway. I realized he was wearing black leather boots and black jeans. It wasn't unheard of for a former soldier to break into their real self after they got out of the military, and some of that realness was...wild. Stitch, however, was not the man I would have pegged to go for such an unusual and striking look, but then again, I never claimed to know him as a person, just as a soldier and squad mate.

He emerged from the bedroom a couple of minutes later, a thoughtful expression on his face. When I tried to speak, he raised a hand gently at his side and silenced me. Not more than ten seconds later, Hunter appeared, his eyes darting immediately to Stitch. If he had any thoughts about Stitch's appearance, his face gave nothing away before he put on a small smile.

"Coffee?" he asked.

"Strong as hell, please," I said.

"Anything fancy? I'm not the whiz Rich is, but I picked some things up and have the stuff."

"Straight black, maybe an espresso or two."

"Right and..."

"This is Stitch," I said.

"Hello, Hunter," Stitch said, his hands still at his side. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Small talk doesn't come easy to you, does it?"

"I find it irritating."

Hunter smiled at that. "Good to know. Well, would you like some?"

"A mocha with a shot of espresso would be nice."

"I can do that. I already had the espresso machine going for myself anyway."

"Thank you."

Hunter walked off, and I thought about asking Stitch how he knew Hunter was coming around the corner but decided against it at the look on his face. I recognized it from the time we'd worked together, and he needed his time and space to think. I always imagined his thoughts were like futuristic computer on some spaceship, where all the screens were in front of him, running equations, algorithms, possibilities, and things I would never understand.

"Let me know when you're back on planet Earth," I said softly, looking at the sprawled bodies behind me. The whole thing was an absolute mess, but despite that, I had to trust Stitch to get us through it in one piece. His ability to do that had never really been in question. I might not have said it to Hunter when I'd explained some of the things Stitch was potentially doing, but I figured he had resources at his disposal to help. It was more his willingness to help, which, now he was here...without me requesting, was no longer in question.

"I'll orbit for a little while, at least until he returns with our drinks," he said, looking around as I heard the hiss of the coffee machines. Hunter was busying himself from his thoughts by putting himself to work. Considering the amount of shit he had to think about, I wouldn't be surprised if our drinks came out as expertly and creatively as something Rich could come up with.

"They're ready for you guys," Hunter called after a few minutes. "You'll, uh...probably want to drink them in here."

"Just how fancy did you make them?" I wondered as Stitch and I both entered the kitchen. Sure enough, Stitch's had cream on top, a drizzle of chocolate, caramel, and a couple of raspberries and chopped strawberries in a wide mug. Mine was simple, but a glance at the counter said he'd dragged his press out to make it when simple espresso would have been fine.

"I was thinking we were going to need to talk, and honestly, other than your room, there's nowhere up here that doesn't have death," Hunter said, flashing a quick smile before sliding Stitch's large mug before him and handing me an elegantly shaped mug.

"A fair point," Stitch said, then immediately sat at the island even though it gave him a perfect view of said death down the hallway. "Despite everything you've been up to, I can't imagine you're as inured to the sight of death as Alpha and I are."

"Alpha?" Hunter asked with a raised brow in my direction.

I grimaced. "An old nickname. One, I have specifically requested not to be called, but no one listens to me unless bullets are flying, so I just bitch."

"It suits you," Hunter said with a small smile before sipping his coffee. I watched him close his eyes, marveling at his ability to savor the taste of well-made coffee despite everything that had happened tonight. I wouldn't mention it now, but it was a clear sign that even with the horrors, terror, and pain that had come, it showed a great deal of resilience. "Now, Stitch..."

"You may call me Zeke if the idea of calling me by my old call sign reminds you too much of a furry alien in Hawaii," Stitch said in his usual, cool voice.

"Wow, you got the real name?" I said to Hunter. "He likes you."

"And why not?" Stitch asked. "He's clearly resourceful, determined, levelheaded, not afraid to get his hands dirty, and managed a feat anyone else would deem impossible."

"What's that?"

"To tie you down and tame you."

"Oh, fuck you."

Hunter snorted. "We've got a long history together."

"Even so," Stitch said with a light shrug. "For your average civilian, you have an impressive track record in a short time."

"Right, so about that, Zeke," Hunter said as if testing out the name and finding he liked it. "You clearly have more details than I'm comfortable with you having. So let's talk."

"Why be uncomfortable? I was called in to help, and so here I am."

I cleared my throat. "I would like to clarify that I did not ask him to be in the city on standby to help us because I didn't think that was necessary...or possible since I thought he'd be busy."

"I can work from different locations if necessary," he said blandly.

"Don't get me wrong," Hunter said with a slightly raised voice, cutting off my response. "I appreciate that you're here to help and apparently have the means to help us. However, I'm uncomfortable with you knowing because I've worked to keep this as in-house as possible, and even though I trust 's judgment, I don't know you. I don't know what your intentions are, and I don't know what's dangling from this offer for help."

"I feel obligated to point out that he showed up to help us of his own free will," I said gently, trying to make sure Hunter understood that Stitch was here to help and not cause further problems.

Hunter grunted. "I'm aware of that, but apparently, him helping you before with Mitchell didn't count as you cashing in whatever favor you owed him. Then, from what you two just said, he was already in the city, waiting. I'd guess he was waiting for us to bring down Callum. And now he's here, literally minutes after it happens, and saying he's going to help us. That doesn't feel like just a favor, it feels like there's a string attached, and I'd bet that string is there because of Callum."

Stitch stared at him for several seconds before softly speaking. "Is that what you believe?"

"I know enough to make some guesses. And after tonight? I'm tired of leaving things up to the whims of chance and luck. So if there's stuff we need to know, I need you to tell us upfront. And that includes any price."

Stitch watched him for a moment until he broke eye contact, a look passing over his face that I recognized. He had been evaluating Hunter, under what criteria I didn't know, but there had been an evaluation. And he was satisfied with what he found and was moving onto the next step of whatever plan he had going.

"You're right," I told Hunter with a sigh. "I can see it now. There's a catch."

An uncharacteristic spasm of surprise flashed over Stitch's face before passing as he let out a rare laugh. "I've worked so long with people who don't have the privilege of being around me constantly, let alone learn anything about me. It's a rare surprise to be read so easily, but it's not unpleasant."

"How very nice for you," I said dryly. "Maybe you should get to the point like Hunter wanted."

He smirked. "Banding together. That works."

"What works?"

He ignored me for a moment before looking at Hunter. "You have good instincts. You're right. Callum does complicate things. Though, so does...the civilian."

"Brooke," Hunter said in a soft voice. "Her name was Brooke, not a civilian. She was my friend, and I got her killed."

"Well," he said after a moment. "Brooke being here complicates sweeping this under the rug."

"Absolutely not," Hunter said with renewed vigor. "She has friends, a boyfriend, kids . I will not have her simply disappear or made to look like she did something stupid somewhere else. She was a damn good woman and deserves better than being tossed away or ignored. She deserves to be mourned."

"Your sentimentality is noted, but it doesn't detract from the difficulty of the situation," Stitch said, taking a sip from his drink. "If perhaps Callum had died in different circumstances, let alone in a different location, taking care of the mess would be far simpler. As it is, trying to explain why he's in your house without drawing attention to what you did before would be... resource-consuming."

I frowned. "That makes it sound like it's outside your control."

"In a manner of speaking...so yes and no."

Stitch grimaced. "Essentially, I can help you out of this mess. I can find a way to ensure this place is scrubbed clean of the slightest evidence, that the bodies are dealt with in a way that will not incriminate you or draw suspicion?—"

"Making sure Brooke gets the proper treatment she deserves," Hunter added, and I almost wanted to laugh at his sheer stubbornness.

"Ensuring Brooke is given the dignity in death befitting of a friend," Stitch added smoothly. "As well as making sure there aren't any potential holes that haven't already been patched up along the way."

"Okay," I said slowly. "That sounds perfect. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that I can only do a few of those things, but the entire list? I'll need to call in additional support beyond my means...which is where the string Hunter already ferreted out comes into play."

Hunter sighed. "How bad a string?"

"That depends on how generous they're feeling."

"Who's they?"

"Whichever organization currently holds the other end of his leash," I said dryly. "Because it's not the government."

"Not a difficult conclusion to reach," Stitch said as he got to his feet.

"Oh sure, Hunter gets compliments on his deductive reasoning, and I get a ‘that's nice, dear' for my trouble," I grumbled.

Stitch cocked his head. "He's a civilian with next to no training or experience. You, however, have plenty. Making leaps of logic within a field you know isn't particularly impressive."

"Maintain a relationship with old friends, they said," I muttered. "It's healthy for you, they said."

"Wow, he's pouting for someone other than me," Hunter said with a snort. "Impressive."

"I'll need to make a call...if that's what you want," Stitch said, glancing between Hunter and me, though I noticed his eyes lingered for longer on Hunter as if he were calling the shots. Then again, he had been the one more or less calling the shots since I got back, even down to our sex life, so that made sense.

Hunter glanced toward me as he spoke. "Are we allowed to know the price of the help before we agree, or is having you call them an automatic agreement?"

"It won't be automatic, but there might still be strings attached to how much you can be told."

"Sheesh, just who do you work for."

"The Collective."

"Of course," I said with a sigh. "Make your call."

"I'll be back in a moment," Stitch said, leaving the room so quietly I couldn't trace his footsteps.

"Just who the fuck are we potentially getting into bed with?" Hunter hissed as he approached me. "Because that did not look like a positive reaction from you."

"It wasn't really bad either," I said with another sigh, leaning against the counter.

"Okay, so who are they?"

"Remember me telling you about The Company?"

"Yeah, big name in killing people for money."

"Those. Well, The Collective is a little like that, in the sense that they work internationally, have no loyalties except to themselves, and are not into the wetwork business so much as the information gathering and trading business."

"Like...hackers?"

"Hackers, spies, thieves, you name it. If it's a useful bit of information or a bargaining chip, they've either dug it up or they're looking to dig it up. And they're not picky about who they take from and who they provide for."

Hunter looked away, his lips becoming thin as he chewed on that. "Which means they don't care much about who gets hurt."

"From what I hear, they like to keep things in balance, so they're not going to sell things to a group dedicated to bombing a city with a nuke, but they're afraid to sell information to the Cartel about an informant's location and their security systems. It was never proven, but it's been rumored they were the ones who helped nudge an investigation into the sarin gas attack in Japan back in the nineties. Some people were pretty pissed that they weren't on the ball sooner."

"Didn't like that much death?"

"Didn't like the idea of a radical group having the kind of power the gas provided. That is the sort of thing that can wipe out whole cities, remember? That can destabilize the shit out of a country, a continent, hell, the whole world if it hits hard enough."

"Great," he said with a sigh. "So they're selfish and assholes, but they're not maniacally evil."

"A necessary one in this world."

"Seriously?"

"They have scruples and lines they don't want crossed, both of which they enforce strictly. They have the knowledge to bring down the world's economy, overturn leaders, and send countries into mass rioting."

"So I'm supposed to be okay with them because they don't do those things?"

"Anyone who has the power to destroy and holds back is moral in some way."

"Or just pragmatic."

"Semantics."

He glared at me before snorting, shaking his head. "Alright, fine. I see your point. But I don't have much room to talk here, do I? If it wasn't for me, neither of us would be here, and Brooke?—"

"Listen to me," I said, reaching to take his hand before he could retreat to the far end of the kitchen in his hurt. "You did not do that."

"If I hadn't gone after them, or at least done it better, then Brooke wouldn't be...she'd be alive," he said, sounding miserable. "You tried to warn me that this revenge shit would get out of control, and look, it did. Brooke's dead, caught in the crossfire of a fight she didn't even know existed, and now we're about to sell our souls to get us out of the trouble I championed to create."

"I warned you this could get out of control," I said carefully. "And even knowing that, I still followed you. I have no regrets about what we've done or what we might have to do."

"Even when it puts a leash back on you?"

"We'll be on a leash together. Whatever they offer, I refuse to let either of us do anything without the other knowing and being involved. We got into this together, and we're getting out of it together."

His face softened before his mouth twisted. "And Brooke?"

"She...yes, I regret that," I said softly, my shoulders sagging. "I'm not letting that hit me until we're alone and have the space to mourn. They used her to get through the apartment door and then jumped me before I could figure out what was going on. I wasn't able to save her, and she died right in front of me while I was helpless."

Hunter's face was pinched as he reached up to hold my face in one hand. "You know that's not your fault, right? You did the best you could."

"That's easier to say than believe."

"But it's true."

"And it's true that the same could be said of you. Now you accept it so easily."

His brow furrowed. "I...that's not...fine. I guess I have to live with it until I can deal with it."

"Right, let's deal with the immediate problem and then work our way around to the rest," I said, leaning forward to kiss him.

"Deal," he said with a shaky smile that steadied after a moment.

"Well then," Stitch announced, making me jump as he reappeared. "If you're ready to hear what I have to say?—"

"He says as if he wasn't lurking around the corner listening for the moment to come in," Hunter said with a snort, retreating to the far end of the kitchen. He wasn't comfortable with Stitch, or at least with what Stitch represented.

"I find it's polite to give people the illusion of privacy," Stitch said, sitting in front of his coffee again. "People tend to be...touchy at the idea that their secrets are not their own."

"I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole," Hunter said sourly.

"Neither am I," I said with a snort and waved a hand at Stitch. "What's the deal?"

"We'll start with what we'll provide you."

"Obviously, you have to bait the hook."

"Yes," Stitch said, unfazed by what would have been an accusation to most people. "Nothing in this world comes easy or for free. Plus, if you're going to get something out of them, they're going to need something from you."

"And I have this feeling money isn't their priority," Hunter said, crossing his arms. "They don't seem the type to stress over money."

"You would be correct."

"Fine, what do you have on offer?"

"At its most basic? We clean up the mess."

"And the more complicated answer?"

"We start by removing the bodies of Callum and the two Top Hat mercenaries in his employ."

I leaned toward Hunter. "The same company Mitchell was using."

"Figures," he muttered.

Stitch waited a moment before continuing. "The two mercenaries will never be found. Callum will be found on the shore in about a week. Eaten by wildlife, but whole enough to be identified. The authorities will treat it as an obvious homicide but will be unable to find anything as, sadly, the bullets were dislodged from decomposition and animals, and the bullet wounds will be ruined because of the same."

Hunter surprised me by giving an amused snort. "Jesus. The fucker will get dumped in the ocean for fish to eat and shit out, and there won't be anything to help solve his murder?"

"Correct," Stitch said impassively. "And they'll oscillate between various motivations for the murder, but they'll never be able to settle on one. Eventually, the case will go cold despite the inevitable pressure from his family, but for once, they will have to suffer through the disappointment of not getting what they want."

"A nasty end and fitting for him," Hunter said, shaking his head. So far, it's sounding good."

"And finally, we can either find a place to put Brooke, take her valuables, and leave it to look like a mugging gone wrong?—"

"A dirty alley, I'll bet," Hunter said bitterly.

"Or, if we move quickly. We can stage it to look as though she was attacked here in a robbery that went awry. That would involve giving the two of you an alibi, which can be provided quickly."

"And cost extra, I assume," I grunted.

Hunter hung his head, but I'd caught the flash of wetness in his eyes and could hear the thickness in his throat. "And...what exactly would that involve?"

"We'd give you all the information of where you were staying when it happened, along with the story to tell the authorities. For now, it ensures you understand the plan overview, only to cover the details if you agree."

I waited until Hunter picked his head up. His cheeks and eyes were wet, but his gaze was steady as he looked at me, clearly asking what I thought. Unless this was an unnecessary and elaborate sting operation, I had a good enough idea of how capable The Collective was to trust they could manage it flawlessly. And if Stitch were the one delivering the message, I trusted the entire thing was also genuine.

"So what is our part of the deal?" I asked, and Hunter nodded.

"We find ourselves needing extra support worldwide," he said simply. "Diverse support, with a degree of flexibility. Flexibility I have complete confidence the two of you can maintain."

"You're being vague again. What does that mean?" Hunter asked, apparently throwing all his usual diplomacy and sweet-talking out the window now we were playing in a different league.

"It means you will occasionally be given objectives and any information you need to meet them. That could be anything from getting information out of someone, getting into their homes, or getting your hands on something they have. Obviously, any objective will be well within the capabilities The Collective believes you have. We won't expect you to break into a secure government-run bunker."

Hunter's face was still screwed up like he was eating a lemon. "And will we be expected to hurt people?"

"We occasionally outsource contracts from The Company," he said, apparently unconcerned by Hunter's lack of confusion. "And you could be called to do something of the sort. Again, it would be kept within your...specific parameters."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning within your skill set, and that also means your skill set after training, which the Collective will give you to make you more effective assets. But also your moral hang-ups and problems."

"I have a feeling they have more of an issue with our morality than we do," Hunter said. "Though I don't believe that if they ask us to do something like that, they'd take our moral code into account."

"The Collective is pragmatic to its core and has always believed in operating within the parameters of any given agent or asset," Stitch told him. "What is the point of having a tool if you break it the first time you use it?"

"What, we're not expendable?"

"Oh, you are. All of us are to varying degrees. But there's no point in hastening it by pushing someone too hard. Plus, there are plenty of people in the world who would fit your," he trailed off and glanced toward the bedroom, "preferences."

"Where is our area of operation?" I asked.

"Port Dale, of course. Adapting to new environments can be hard without proper training, and why bother when the two of you are so familiar with the city? This city alone has more than enough opportunities to make it a worthwhile investment."

Hunter's eyes flicked to me and then back to Stitch. "So we'd be playing spy or thief for the most part and occasionally needing to...assassinate people who are monsters?"

"At its most simplistic? Yes."

"Anything else?"

"You'll also occasionally be required to house or hide agents or assets when called upon. How you manage that will be up to you, but know that you'll be inspected."

Hunter sighed, looking down at the floor. "That's intense for a second job. And...a lot."

"Oh, you'll be compensated," Stitch said as if confused. "Quite fairly at that."

"So...we'll be trained and get paid?" Hunter asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion as he narrowed his eyes. "Forgive the fuck outta me here, but that sounds too good to be true."

"There's hardly any point in making you assets if we don't give you sufficient training. And while The Collective is not afraid to get its hands dirty, we don't tend to enslave people, even if they are willing. Your compensation won't be as good as if you were a full asset, but you'll be paid."

"Dare I ask how much?"

"Hunter," I said with a laugh. "Really?"

"Hey, full details, remember?" he asked with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Better to know."

"Approximately," Stitch began, pulling out his phone, "what you have now."

"My yearly income?" Hunter asked, raising a brow.

"The total value of your business."

"Yearly?"

"Each."

" Each ?"

"Tax-free."

Hunter's eyes bugged from his head, and he turned, taking a drink from his coffee to stare at me. "Jesus. What the fuck do your normal assets and agents make?"

"It varies," Stitch told him with a shrug. "Now, do you have any other questions, or would you like to start deliberating together on what you'll do?"

"I have two things to ask or add," I said.

"By all means."

"Two requirements."

"If I haven't already accounted for what you require, then we'll have to negotiate."

"Fine, whatever."

"Then shoot."

I pointed toward Hunter and then myself. "Whatever one of us does, the other will always be included. We work together, deal with problems and threats together, and never have to keep secrets from one another."

"And the other?"

"I imagine we'll be given rather intense, one-on-one training for whatever they have in mind."

"You'll be trained by a handler assigned to you, yes."

"I want that to be you. I need someone I can trust."

"I see," Stitch said and then shrugged. "Done and done."

"I…seriously?" I asked, taken aback by the ease with which he accepted my new demands without so much as a fight or a moment of hesitation.

"As I said, if you asked for something I hadn't accounted for, we would have to return to the negotiation table. It makes more sense to train you together, which means you'll learn to work together. We have dedicated teams. Not all are lone wolves like I am," he said with a knowing smile. "And Hunter will trust your judgment where he doesn't trust me. And you won't trust someone you haven't fought alongside or seen in action, which is normal former military behavior. I volunteered myself for the task of being your handler and trainer."

"Damn, he just read us like a book," Hunter said with a rueful smile.

"It turns out I have an eye for recruitment," Stitch said with a shrug. "After Alpha contacted me for information, I was curious about what was happening. Imagine my surprise when I did some digging into the person he was asking about and found out a childhood friend of his had died just over a week before. And then the man in question had died, and despite everything, the police had only two names that stood out as people of interest."

"Not our finest moment," I admitted with a grimace. "They were bound to keep an eye on us for a while after that, especially with Callum riding their ass."

"Yes, and then Mitchell died, and it wasn't hard to put the pieces together," Stitch said. "And I found myself even more curious and looked into you. Alpha, of course, I could picture you, but Hunter? That surprised me. That was until I found an older file, buried in the system so deep you would have to look for something hidden to find it."

Hunter's jaw tightened. "The report I placed with the cops after they...after Lucas and I."

"Indeed. And there was the answer. Still curious that you'd end up on this path two years later," Stitch's eyes flashed to me. "And after the return of your childhood best friend."

"He was dragged along, not the mastermind," Hunter told him quickly.

"I was a volunteer," I corrected with a frown. "But not the mastermind."

"Even more curious," Stitch said with a chuckle. "Then it seems I was more right than I knew. Even with everything you've gone through, your average person would not have gone to the lengths you did to bring these three men...I'm sorry, four. Your report mentioned a dealer who happened to fit the description of a man who died a month ago. Curiously, he was stabbed, and it was theorized with his own knife, considering he was wearing a sheathe, but there was no blade."

"Information gatherers, huh?" Hunter said, sounding torn between impressed and annoyed. "What a shame you guys don't work for the cops."

"What do you think the cops would do with our information?" Stitch asked, raising a brow. "If you think it's to help the greater good, then you still have some naivety to lose."

Hunter huffed. "Or maybe I just keep hoping for a better world than the one we're in."

"Good news, you're being offered the chance to do just that."

"I hardly think working for hackers and information sellers who don't consider morality when selling or stealing are going to be my road to a better world."

"And yet that same group is offering you a chance to play that very role. They don't care about your motivations, so long as you do the jobs given to you and don't break their rules."

Hunter looked away. "Irony heaped upon irony."

"Do you have anything else to ask, Hunter?" I asked him softly.

"No."

"Then, Stitch?"

"I'll be down the hall," Stitch said, pushing away from the counter. "And thank you for the coffee. It was quite delicious. I can see why your café is so popular."

"The cats certainly help," Hunter told him and then slumped against the counter once he was out of sight.

"Hey," I said softly, stepping closer and putting an arm around his shoulders. "I know this is a deal with the Devil in your mind?—"

He snorted. "It feels more monkey paw than anything. At least with the Devil, you know what you're getting into. These guys? They might be telling us the truth, but do you think it's the full truth?"

"No," I answered honestly. "Any group that operates in secrecy doesn't know any other way to be. Even when they think they're being transparent, the water is still murky."

"And Zeke?"

"He...well, he's probably doing the same thing, but to a lesser degree. I trust him, I always have, and if I lose my trust in people just because they've done or are doing things I don't agree with…" I said and then trailed off to glance at Hunter meaningfully.

His face scrunched up before he let out a soft laugh. "Well, you were trying to pull me in the other direction for a while, but I refused to listen, didn't I? So here we are."

"Here we are."

"I wish I had a better choice than this offer or nothing."

"So do I."

Hunter stared at the ceiling thoughtfully. "There's no way for us to get out of this without their help, is there?"

"I don't think so. No, not without making a new mess while cleaning up the old one."

"I was thinking the same," he said with another sigh. "This was not where I saw my life going. I can tell you that much."

I caught his eye before asking. "And what did you think was going to happen when all this was done?"

"I don't know," he admitted with a shaky laugh. "I knew it wouldn't be as easy as I thought. And there would be a lot of fallout. But all I could think was to deal with one thing at a time. And eventually...eventually be able to look around and see what I'd built, fought for, and killed for...and there would be peace in that."

I understood that feeling all too well. It was the same thing I'd thought on the flight back to Port Dale, knowing I was leaving my military career behind despite all the opportunities that could await me. I'd wanted to have something worth measuring, something I could look at that was definite, real, and tell myself that was what all that pain and death was for.

And looking at Hunter, I realized I did have that.

"You," I said, stepping in front of him and smiling, "are all I ever wanted in life, you know that? You have always been home to me. Whenever I was miserable, in pain, or scared, your face always came into my head. And that face made me finally leave when my contract was up and come back here...to you."

"And now you're getting dragged into another mess."

"But I'm going to have you there the whole time."

"If I don't get in the way."

I snorted, cupping his face. "Stitch was right. There's a lot more to you than meets the eye. Even I, who should know you best, am surprised by what you're capable of and how well you've done. If they're going to make us partners, then I'm glad. Not just because I'll be there to have your back, but because I've come to believe that you having my back in every sense of the word is the best I could ask for."

"Flattery will...well, flattery from you will get you a lot of places, actually," he said. "I know it's our only choice if we want to get through this in one piece but damn if that doesn't piss me off. We were one step away from being in the clear, and that fucking asshole had to invade our house and attack us in our room and?—"

I kissed him, shutting him up. For a moment, he grumbled before giving in to the kiss as I pulled him closer. Sure enough, I felt him relax until, eventually, he could stand without the posture of a boot camp recruit on inspection.

"What was that for?" he asked, sounding slightly grumpy.

"You called it our house and our room."

"Because that's what it is," he said with genuine confusion, and it was the sweetest thing he could have done.

For the first time in my life, I had a real home to look forward to. Things would never be the same for either of us, especially with the direction our lives were headed, but I had Hunter, which was more than enough.

"We're taking this deal, aren't we?" Hunter asked, no longer looking unhappy but resigned.

"I think we should," I told him softly. "We deserve the chance to have more to our lives than going to prison because some rich pricks got what they deserved."

Hunter snorted. "You're starting to sound like me. I think I'm rubbing off on you."

"Mmm, you can do that after we get more sleep."

"Dirty-minded horn dog."

I laughed softly, kissing him again. "Well, if you want, we can leave. Just pack everything up, gather our money, and go wherever we want. I'm pretty sure we could make it down to South America before anyone realizes we're gone."

Hunter rolled his eyes. "I'm not leaving this behind. Even if it means selling my soul to the goddamn Devil...well, that's a fitting statement. This is our home, our place, and I'm not leaving it. I refuse to let them win."

"Somehow, I thought you might say that," I said with a chuckle. "Plus, I don't think we'd have made it too far anyway. You would have wanted to come back halfway to Brazil after realizing you didn't leave enough food out for the cats or something."

"Says the man who would have stuffed Clem in a duffel bag to take with us."

"Like hell."

"You love that cat. Admit it."

"No, I meant I'd get him a nice cat carrier. I might even have found a temperature-controlled one so he wouldn't have to deal with the heat while traveling."

At that, he softened and let out a low breath. "So...should we tell him?"

"Yeah, we should."

"And then we should think about finding somewhere to sleep and get a bite to eat if we're not needed around here."

"Hey, Hunter?"

"What?"

"One thing at a time, remember?"

"Right," he said, his hand fitting perfectly into mine. "One thing at a time."