Between Shadows

by Chanel Cleeton

  I look down at my watch.

  Nine o’clock.

  I step out onto the street, and in an instant nine guns are trained on me.

  Grace shrieks my name, her body shaking as our father holds her back, as bile rises in my throat. I shut it down, lock it away into the place where I keep all of the dark parts buried.

  I raise my arms out to the sky, showing that I’m not armed. I’m not scared of the guns; they won’t kill me. I’m far more valuable to them alive.

  I am their monster; they are my Frankenstein.

  They’ll want Luke, of course, but no doubt they’re aware of how close we’ve grown. No doubt they’ll try to use me for bait just as they’ve used Grace.

  We face off, the three of us, the unholy trinity that’s left of our family at the place where we lost it all. Grace looks terrified, and by the way her limbs appear sluggish, they drugged her just like Luke.

  For a moment I can’t do anything but stare at my father, at my sister, searching for something…some connection or recognition. A sign that he sees me as something other than an asset, that we are still somehow his children. It never comes.

  “Search her,” my father snaps.

  This is it. In a moment, they’ll find the earpiece and I’ll be completely cut off from everyone else. Alone.

  I step forward, the men matching my movement.

  “Let her go first.”

  My challenge hangs suspended between us, and then my father shrugs, pushing Grace forward until she stumbles.

  His gaze meets mine. “She wasn’t nearly as promising as you were.”

  I am going to kill you.

  I don’t react; for once I’m grateful for all of the training I’ve received, for the ease with which I can slip on the mask. He knows it, too. He wants to break me; I refuse to be broken.

  Grace runs to me and I allow myself to slip for a moment, to wrap my arms around her and hold her, tears pummeling my insides.

  If this is the last chance I ever have to see my sister, I’m not going to let him ruin it. Not going to let him take this memory of her away like he took away my memories of my mother.

  “I love you, Grace,” I whisper, holding her as her body shakes from the force of her cries. “Go to Father Murphy. He’ll keep you safe.”

  I untie the cords around her wrists, rubbing at the skin.

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Promise me, Grace. Run.”

  She hesitates, and I squeeze her arm, trying to send her a message to trust me. “Go.”

  She takes off, her little body hurtling through the dark London night, and suddenly I can breathe again, each step away from me a chance at a better life. If I die here tonight, at least I’ll go with the knowledge that I kept my sister safe.

  They let her go, but I see the gleam in my father’s eye, can read the plan there as easily as if he spoke it aloud. He thinks to recapture her; he knows she doesn’t have the skills to disappear.

  My knees hit the ground, my arms pulled behind my head. Hands run over my body, divesting me of weapons I knew it was useless to bring. Fingers rip the earpiece from me, the microphone, severing the connection with Oscar.

  I stare straight into my father’s eyes.

  I’m counting again, have been counting all along, keeping time on the clock in my mind.

  By our calculations, we’ve just divided the number of security forces at the Academy by sending this group after me. It’s a fighting chance.

  Hands pull me up roughly and then I’m looking into the eyes of the man I stabbed in Knightsbridge.

  His lips twist into an ugly sneer, a speculative gleam in his gaze. “Maybe I’ll see if I can play with you later.”

  I laugh, the sound harsh in the cold London night. You don’t play with a vial of smallpox.

  “Sure.”

  “Bring her here,” my father snaps.

  He’s definitely getting impatient. He may have the upper hand, but he knows better than to get too comfortable. It’s all about getting me to the second location, to the one that they control. If his plan is to take me to the Academy, he’s in for a rude awakening.

  I need to stall. Just a few minutes longer.

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  He doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t react. I may as well have not spoken.

  I want to scream at him. Want to make him pay for what he did to my mother, for the years I suffered at his hands. And then I realize that while this is personal for me, it isn’t for him. I’m just a job. I try another angle, speaking to him on his level.

  “You want Luke, don’t you?”

  His gaze sharpens; suddenly I’ve become very important. “What makes you think we don’t already have him?”

  Please.

  “You don’t.”

  He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Either way we’ll have him soon. I have you. That’s enough.”

  “You have me?” I mock. “Do you really think I’m just going to let you take me back to your sick little lab?”

  His gaze lingers on me, kneeling in the street, and I see a flare of what he feels, of his enjoyment at seeing me defeated. Predator and prey.

  “I do.”

  I stop counting. It’s time.

  Beeps fill the night air, the security personnel’s attention momentarily diverted as the Academy’s alert system sends out an alarm that the Academy is under attack. That our plan has worked.

  It’s a sliver of hesitation, but it’s all I need. In my line of work, that sliver is the difference between life and death.

  I’m on my feet in an instant, grateful that they failed to tie my hands, that they underestimated what I could do unarmed. That they failed to account for Luke somewhere out there in the dark watching all of this go down. And Oscar sitting behind his laptop, working his magic, coordinating a global strike.

  Suddenly, the sound of cars and motorcycles fills the air. Moments later the street fills with people, assets I recognize from the Academy—Josh and Steph—over a dozen current and former assets coming to fight alongside us. And Luke leading the pack, armed to the hilt, his gaze locked on me as he heads toward the men surrounding me.

  I attack.

  I go for the man I stabbed, for his leg and the wound that I already know is there, the one that I put there. He strikes out, hitting me in the chest, knocking me back. I hear my father screaming in the background, telling his men that Luke and I aren’t to be killed.

  And there’s our advantage.

  Training and instinct take over, my mind shutting off. I fight with a speed that surprises me, my body kicking into a whole other drive I never knew I had. This is survival mode; for the first time I’m fighting for my life and those I love.

  Everything is a blur. I hear shouts and cries, the sound of bones snapping, bodies hitting the floor, gunfire exploding, the scream of a siren. I know I’m hit; blasts of pain pummel my body before the adrenaline swoops in and everything else disappears.

  Blood runs down my face. My ears fill with a ringing sound.

  I fight. I fall. I fight harder.

  I kick the man right where I knifed him before, and then he’s down, his body doubled over in pain as I strike him, raining blows over his body.

  The sirens grow louder, people yelling in the distance.

  I hear Luke shouting to me; our gazes lock, his eyes hard, blood oozing from a nasty cut on his face. The streets are littered with bodies—ours, theirs.

  Five of their men lie on the ground. Dead. Four are unaccounted for. Luke has a gun pointed at my father’s head.

  My father is pale; his skin is stained with blood. He doesn’t speak.

  The sirens grow louder. We have a minute, tops. Maybe two.

  “How long before the police get here?” I ask.

  Luke says something through his mic. Whatever answer Oscar gives him, it isn’t the one he wants.

  “Police incoming. We have to go. Now.”

  Despite his words he
doesn’t move, the hand pointing the gun at my father unwavering, his finger hovering over the trigger.

  It could all end now. I don’t know if they’ve found the Director at the Academy, but my father is just as responsible for what has happened as she is. Perhaps even more so. This is our chance to stop them, to find the vengeance we’ve sought.

  “What do you want me to do?” Luke asks.

  And just like that, I’m back to being judge, jury, and executioner.

  I don’t want to kill anymore, don’t want their eyes haunting me anymore. I want to be free.

  “Give me the gun.”

  Luke hesitates, his knuckles white around the grip. And then he lowers his hand, lifting the gun to me palm up, his gaze on my father.

  The sirens are louder now; we have seconds at most. I want to think that the sirens will bring safety, that justice will be served, but I’m not a naive little girl—I never was—and I know better. I know his connections will allow him to escape and the threat to me, Grace, and Luke will never end.

  My hand is steady as I take the gun from Luke, my fingers wrapping around the cold metal. I lift it, the weight of it surprisingly heavy, pointing it at the monster who made me.

  I pull the trigger.

  I have Grace. And I have Luke. And for the first time in my life, I’m free.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  Luke nods and we head down one of the side streets, following the exit strategy we planned, assets trailing behind us, bodies littering the street.

  I don’t look back.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  We check in with Oscar on our way to Knightsbridge. The Director escaped, but the Academy was burned to the ground. We lost five of our own in London tonight. We’ll wait to see what reports say from the rest of the locations, but early indication is that the vast majority of the missions were successful. The police are still processing the scene in Primrose Hill.

  At the very least, we’ve hit them. Hopefully, they’ll be the ones on the run now.

  Oscar uploaded every piece of information we have on the Internet, sent every major media outlet all that we have amassed on Ares and the academies. They have influential connections, but we’re hoping that the massive spotlight we’ve shone on their operations will be enough to derail them, that it will give us the time we need to disappear and start our own lives.

  That’s what vengeance looks like for me now—transforming myself into something other than what they tried to make me, finding some semblance of peace in this messed up world.

  Luke reaches out and finds my hand, his fingers linking with mine. I hold on to him with everything I have.

  “Your mother?” I ask.

  His mouth tightens. “I’m done. As much as I want to see her pay, I’d rather we go somewhere safe. Hopefully, this is enough to bring her down.”

  “Where will we go?” I ask.

  “Where do you want to go? We can go anywhere.”

  I like the sound of that, the possibilities contained in that one word.

  “Maybe we’ll let Grace choose.”

  He grins. “Maybe we will.”

  There are so many things we could say to each other, but honestly there’s no need. This is enough. What we have—the connection between us—runs deeper than any phrases we could recite. We’re bound to each other. Family. And even though my future is a giant unknown, Luke is the constant.

  The cab pulls up to the church in Knightsbridge and I get out, my heart pounding. Luke takes my hand again and we walk up the steps together, heading through the massive open doors.

  The scent of incense and burning candles hits me first, a few organ notes drifting up from the balcony where someone is playing. The side chapels are sparsely attended and I scan the space for Grace, my boots hitting the marble floor with a loud thump. I don’t see her.

  A priest walks down the center aisle toward us, his dark robes swaying around him.

  Father Murphy.

  “I’m here for my sister.”

  He nods. “She told me you would be.”

  My lips curve. Classic Grace to believe in me.

  His gaze darts from me to Luke and back again, and he opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it. He studies us both for a moment.

  I should be terrified, afraid that he will see all that I have done. But I’m not. I don’t know if it was the confession, or regaining my memories, or this small victory over Ares, or getting my sister back, or Luke, but I do know that despite everything my hands are clean. It’s impossible to put a pretty spin on the things I’ve done, but I’ve survived, and right now that’s all that matters. And so I hold his stare, unflinching.

  A smile plays at his lips and he inclines his head in the faintest of nods; we understand each other.

  “I’ll get her.”

  And then he’s going back the way he came, his robes trailing behind him.

  I sit in the pew, Luke next to me, his leg against mine, our joined hands in my lap.

  “I love you,” he whispers, the words making my heart swell.

  Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we need some words. Perhaps they contain a little magic.

  “I love you, too.”

  Grace comes out from one of the alcoves of the church and Luke releases me. I’m on my feet, running toward her, wrapping my arms around her. She cries as I hold her, as she holds on to me. I know her recovery won’t be easy, that she will have nightmares, and triggers, and that for a long time her life will be about surviving, facing each day as it comes.

  But she’ll always have me and I’ll be there every step of the way to help her get through this. And I know without a doubt in my mind, that for as difficult as it will be, she will get through it.

  Another girl forged in the fire.

  When her tears have dried, she asks me, “What happens next?”

  “We start over.”

  Luke stands, walking toward us. He’s cautious approaching Grace, but she moves toward him, giving him a hug that answers some of my concerns for how much this has changed her.

  “Where will we go?” she asks. I smile at Luke, giving her the same answer he gave me.

  “Anywhere. You pick.”

  I spot Father Murphy standing near the altar, watching us, and I worry that he’s going to say something to stop us, that he won’t let us pass, but instead he just nods again, and I offer up a smile, the first one I’ve ever given him.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I turn toward my family, Luke’s arm draped around Grace.

  “You ready, X?” Luke asks, holding his free hand out to me.

  And I am.

  “How about Alex?”

  Surprise flickers in his eyes and then he smiles, a beautiful, blinding Luke smile.

  I take his hand and we walk out of the church to the sighs of the organ, the sound of it swelling inside me until we hit the street and I breathe in deep, the London night filling me with promise.

  How does the game go? Two truths and one lie?

  Easy enough—for someone like me.

  ###

  My name is Alex. My favorite color is black. I’ve killed more men than I’d like to count.

  I’m done with lies.

  Thanks for reading Between Shadows. I hope you enjoyed it!

  Would you like information on upcoming releases, including information on the next Assassins novel? You can sign up for my monthly newsletter which features book exclusives, news, giveaways, and more at www.chanelcleeton.com/mailing-list/, like my Facebook page at www.facebook.com/authorchanelcleeton, join my Facebook reader group at www.facebook.com/groups/1545366192398558/, check out my website at http://www.chanelcleeton.com, or follow me on Twitter at @chanelcleeton.

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  Turn the page to check out a sample of Fly with Me, the first book in a new contemporary romance series about a squadron of F-16 pilots from Penguin/Berkley.

  Check out the first chapter from FLY WITH ME, the first book in a sexy new contemporary romance series about a squadron of F-16 pilots who fly fast, love hard, and live dangerously. Coming May 3, 2016 from Chanel Cleeton and Penguin/Berkley.

  Jordan

  There was a time in a woman’s life when she had to accept that wearing a headband made of pink—glittery—illuminated penises was too much. I couldn’t put my finger on the number—and I definitely couldn’t do it after my fourth tequila shot—but I figured that at thirty and still single, bachelorettes had ceased to be a fun rite of passage and had instead become a wake-up call that if Prince Charming wasn’t coming soon, I’d have to start exploring my options of the amphibian variety.

  Of course, it didn’t help that this was my sister’s bachelorette—my cute-as-a-button, too-young-for-wrinkle-cream sister’s bachelorette. Or that she was marrying my high school ex-boyfriend. I didn’t care; I mean we hadn’t been together in over a decade, but the fact that my future brother-in-law had once seen me topless added to the surreal feeling of the whole thing.

  I took shot number five like a champ.

  “I’m getting married!” Meg screamed for what might have been the fifteenth time that night. Somewhere between dinner at Lavo and partying at Tao, this seemed to have hit her with a vengeance. On anyone else, it would have been annoying; on Meg, it was somehow still adorable.

  At twenty-five, she was the baby of the family. A good five inches shorter than me, we shared the same blonde hair and brown eyes. We both had curves, but on her they were bite-sized. I was a king size—tits and ass that could put your eye out—not to mention the pink phalluses bobbing awkwardly on my head.