“Why do you say, ‘usually’?”
“My brother has brought together a team of mercenaries—he calls it the Den—to perform jobs for him. Essentially, he took the sophistication of an assassin and paired it with the ruthlessness of a mercenary.”
The idea of what he was saying fascinated her. While she didn’t know very much about mercenaries, she had read about assassins before, and had even seen a few movies—though she couldn’t say how accurate those were.
But it still wasn’t something she could fathom. “Are you one of them?”
“Am I in the trade? Not anymore. Now, I mostly facilitate.”
“Were you one of the mercenaries?”
“Assassin.”
Luna thought of his guards. “And is that what those guys are? The Wild Bunch, I mean. They’re assassins.”
“They’re something in the middle.”
“And you said facilitate? What does that mean exactly?”
Sitting his knife and fork down, Kit wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin before resting his elbows on the table. “Let’s say you desire something you can’t get your hands on. Most cases, I can get you what you want, and if I can’t, I know someone that can. So tell me, Luna, what do you want more than anything in the world?”
Her life back.
There was nothing in the world she wanted more than that, but despite that being the answer her head was screaming, it wasn’t the answer she gave, because more than wanting her life back, she wanted to be the one to get it.
“I want him to pay,” she answered instead.
“Him?”
“Lawrence.”
“For what he did to you?”
Luna shook her head. “For what he did to all of us.”
“Then I’ll get you what you want,” he said in return—a promise.
She was lost in his eyes a moment, but she quickly blinked. “I probably couldn’t afford you.”
He drew away, making her realize just how close they were. “That too will change.”
“How do you mean?”
“When you work for the Den, you’re compensated—your pay depends on the job.”
Now, Luna was more confused than ever. “He bought me, only to give me a job?”
Kit laughed, the sound rich and warming. “Don’t question his madness, Luna. I don’t.”
“And you’re to train me?” Luna asked again. “You’re going to teach me how to shoot a gun?”
“And use a knife, among other assorted weaponry that you’ll learn to love.”
When she thought about it, Luna couldn’t even fight. She knew the basic idea of how to defend herself should there ever be a need, but she had never fought anyone, not really. She didn’t think trying to claw Lawrence’s eyes out that one time counted.
“Do you think you’re incapable?” he asked softly.
“I just don’t know if I’m going to be worth what he spent. I never got the chance to finish school—I don’t even know how to fight, or—”
“It should never be why you’re incapable of doing something, but rather understanding your limits and learning to surpass them.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “And I only attended school for the first eighteen years of my life. I learned more through experience.”
“That’s three years more than me.”
And at least he’d had a choice in the matter. She would have much rather had the opportunity to learn things that weren’t very important in the grand scheme of life, rather than knowing nothing at all.
But … she had to admit that the idea of learning how to be a mercenary and potentially getting revenge against Lawrence appealed to her.
Luna wasn’t thinking of it being a job, or the potential risks that came with it, she thought of the vengeance she could mete out, and if she were lucky, be able to get Cat out as well.
“So what do I need to do?” Luna asked with a nod to herself, making her decision.
His mouth curled just the slightest bit. “Eat, for now. Once we have your blood work back, training will begin.”
“Okay.”
“But I still need to know about your time with Lawrence,” Kit said. “It’s not just you that needs to know your limitations. Training that works for one may not work for another—so the more I know about you and what you’ve experienced, the better I can gauge what you need from me.” When she was reluctant to answer, he said, “There’s benefits to purging.”
Luna shook her head, sitting back. “Telling someone all the sordid details isn’t going to make me feel any better.”
Kit shook his head. “But keeping it bottled up will?”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Start at the beginning.”
Three days she had spent in that warehouse, in relative comfort. She didn’t doubt that it could have been far worse for her—that the men that walked in and out of the place could have beaten her, starved her, or done deplorable things that made her heart race in fear, but they didn’t. Instead, she was just stuck in a room with a makeshift bed.
There was no window in the room, nor was there any other way to leave it besides the door that was always kept closed and locked until someone brought her food. It was a heavy thing, one that she couldn’t open no matter how she threw her body against it and twisted the handle.
But even knowing that, she attempted to escape every time someone came in, her captors were surprisingly nice, as though not truly trying to harm her despite keeping her here against her will.
Luna knew it was stupid, but she was thankful for their kindness all the same.
A ransom, she had finally worked out in her head.
That was the only thing that would explain their keeping her, though not harming her. Someone, whoever had orchestrated this, had probably contacted her parents, demanding money for her safe return. And now, it was just a waiting game until the currency switched hands so she could go back home.
Her father had told her stories about the cartels in their town who would kidnap loved ones in an attempt to extort money from their families—though he had never made mention of Americans doing it as well.
She had to remember that it took time—that it wouldn’t be long before that door opened for good and she was allowed to leave.
She pictured the joy on their faces once she came home. Tears pricked her eyes at the thought of being home, at returning to a life she had taken for granted.
On the third day, it had been the smoke that woke her before the door came crashing open.
“Let’s go,” a man said with voice like thunder as he waved her forward.
“What’s happening?” she asked even as she got to her feet, trying to see past him.
Luna had always been a stubborn girl, even as she had been told to always respect her elders, and this man, who sounded like he was in his late thirties, was definitely her elder.
“Either you die in this fire, or I drag you from here. Your choice.”
Dark eyes without a shred of pity stared at her, and she didn’t doubt for a second that he would do just that—leave her to die. Swallowing nervously, she did as she was told, slowly closing the distance between them, flinching when she felt his hand close around her arm.
She didn’t fight him, allowing him to lead her where he wanted—at least until she saw where they were going.
Parked down below on the floor of the warehouse was a nondescript black van, one that would blend in and not draw attention.
The rest of the place was going up in flames.
She had been engulfed by the show of it to realize that the man that was taking her had pulled a syringe from his pocket, sticking her in the neck and plunging the drug into her body.
She was out before she realized it.
It was the gentle rock of the van that drew Luna awake many hours later. No longer did sunlight spill in through the windshield, but rather the waning glow of the moon. She could tell from the way the bag over her head looked especially dar
k now that she was back awake.
How far had they gone in her lost hours? Was she still in the same place—but even that question would be hard to answer since she didn’t exactly know where she had been taken.
They only drove for a short while longer, that little time spent trying to wiggle her arms free of their restraints, before they came to a grinding stop, the van jerking a bit as it was parked.
She could hear water running just outside the van, making her brows draw together as doors slid open and hands were on her once more to get her out.
The water was closer now, a fountain she thought, before she was swept away. Laughter carried from up ahead as well as the sniffles and soft crying of other women.
It seemed, she wasn’t the only captive here tonight.
More shuffling, stumbling steps, and harsh curses accompanied her until they finally came to a stop, the bag ripped from her head.
Her eyes stung as bright lights assaulted her, and blinked rapidly to try and see around her.
But the light soon dulled as a figure blurred at the edges of her vision before blocking the light out entirely.
“What’s this?” the man asked, though it was weird to think of him as that since he didn’t seem that much older than Luna.
The man from the warehouse stole her attention as he tsked, waving his hand as though the question annoyed him. “Do with them as you will.”
But this man with the blindingly white smile and blond hair didn’t seem to care about anyone other than Luna. His gaze was fixed on her and her only.
Not lingering, he grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her out of the room, laughing any time she stumbled, desperately trying to keep up with his rapid pace.
He didn’t slow down, not until they reached a rather cavernous space that if she had to guess was his office. Twin bookcases with a painting of a royal figure hanging between them was the backdrop to a cherrywood desk, the items atop it neatly placed.
This time when she stumbled, he allowed her to fall, her knees burning as she slid across the floor. He slammed the door shut and locked it with a flick of his wrist, then looked to her on the floor as she staggered, trying to regain her footing, but that was hard to do with her hands bound.
He went over to his desk a moment and poured a drink, throwing it back with little grace. When he came back over, his eyes were slightly wilder, his smile a little more feral.
“Now where did my father find you?” he asked running a finger along the curve of her face, not deterred by the way she jerked away from him.
Between gritted teeth, she said, “Let me go.”
“Why on earth would I do that?” he asked, truly appearing baffled by her command. “The fun hasn’t even started yet.”
When he brought his finger up to her face once again, this time skimming over her lips, she lashed out, biting him as hard as she could.
“Shit!” the expletive left his lips a moment before he yanked his hand away, but she wasn’t given the chance to smile at her victory when that same hand came back around and he landed a powerful slap to her face, enough to send her head jerking to the side, pain exploding in her cheek.
Luna was dangerously close to tears as her face burned, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
“Stupid little whore. One would think you would try to please me, but if you want it hard, sweetheart, that’s all you had to say.”
He stepped out of her view, but he wasn’t gone for long before he was back with a wickedly sharp knife in hand. He held it up for her to see, making her still in her frantic movements to get away.
“Fight me on this and your binds won’t be the only thing cut.”
Even as her body rebelled at the idea of remaining rooted in place, Luna forced herself to stay perfectly still as he used the knife to cut through the ropes around her arms, but despite his words, she did find herself wincing every time he nicked her skin.
Once he was finished, he tossed the blade well across the room, then grabbed hold of a chain that was affixed to one of the legs of his desk and snapped the cuff around her ankle.
It had only been a matter of seconds before she was caught, the steel around her ankle preventing her from getting more than a foot away from the desk.
“A pretty little thing, you are. I always like it when they fight—it’s why I’ve removed the rope,” he said almost reverently, and this time when he touched her, she didn’t lash out at him, already afraid of what would happen if she did. “I wonder what you feel like. Are you soft and ready for me?”
A whimper crawled up her throat when he reached for her again, the grip he had on her face so tight that he was pressing the delicate skin of the inside of her cheeks against her teeth. But that pain she could withstand, it was when his other hand started fumbling with her pants that she felt real panic.
“Stop it,” she said slapping at his hands.
“You’re a virgin, no?” he asked with a little laugh. “I’d bet my fortune on you having the tightest pussy I’ve felt in months.”
She punched at him, scratched, slapped, and did everything else in her power to get him off of her. Her screams, God the way she fucking screamed until her voice was hoarse, but he didn’t stop, merely laughed in the face of her fear and pain as he shoved two fingers into her body without the slightest hesitation.
Shattering glass drew Luna from the memory.
At first, she thought Kit had done it with his hand, but as she trained her gaze on him, she realized the glass had broken when he’d set it on the table.
There was no mistaking the thinly veiled fury in his gaze mingled with disgust. Her original thoughts about him and his business with Lawrence had obviously been wrong if this was how he reacted.
Now she was seeing the truth.
Kit let out a string of curses as he dried his hands with his napkin, then went about cleaning up the broken glass. “That night, did he …”
He didn’t finish, and from his expression, she thought that he didn’t want to ask the question—as though he were the one that didn’t want the answer.
“Not that night, no.”
He had made it a week.
A week of mentally torturing her and physically bruising her before he robbed her of her virginity and stripped her of her dignity.
“I’m sorry,” Kit said, with such conviction that Luna was blinking at him.
For a man that hadn’t seemed to feel anything moments before, he now seemed affected by what she had just shared.
She wondered if someone close to him had suffered this way, or whether she had been the first.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she said softly. It wasn’t as though it had been him to hurt her.
Before he could ask her anything else, she bit a slice of toast, not really tasting the food as she tried to give herself a moment to center herself and banish thoughts of Lawrence again.
But Kit wasn’t done, and even if he looked uncomfortable, he still looked to her and asked, “If you want to continue, I’m listening. If you want to wait, I understand.”
She thought on her answer long and hard, and despite wanting to drop the subject, she decided it would be better to just finish now.
Get it over with.
It would be better to rip the Band-Aid off in one go as opposed to gradually peeling it off.
As she began to speak, she couldn’t tell who was more upset about what she was saying—her or Kit.
Chapter 7
Luna was beginning to realize that time at the château passed remarkably slowly, or perhaps it was because she was ready to get on with the mysterious training that she couldn't think of anything else.
Two weeks had finally passed, and in that time, she hadn't seen very much of Kit outside of their new daily routine of eating together. At first, she had thought it out of necessity, that he wanted to speak with her more about what she was going to be doing, and her time with Lawrence.
Though he hadn’t reacted w
ell to their first conversation, he had kept himself in careful check through all the others.
And despite her original assumption, she did feel better talking about it—purging it, as Kit said.
But after a while, they no longer spoke of training, Uilleam, or Lawrence, rather he asked about her life before that, when she was just a girl with dreams of something more than the little town she grew up in.
“What did you want to be?” Kit had asked, voice gone soft as he asked.
She now wondered if he did it on purpose, changing his tone in a way that made her want to answer whatever he asked—she found she could listen to him talk for hours. There was never any doubt in her mind that he was actually listening.
“I don’t know,” Luna had answered, “I just know I wanted to be something more than I was.”
She couldn’t think of any one thing she had wanted to do for the rest of her life. Maybe an artist? But Luna had always dreamed of different lives that she could lead.
She wanted to be a dreamer, but now, she wasn’t quite sure what she would become.
But she never used her family’s names—those details she wanted to keep to herself for now.
Kit didn’t pry, accepting whatever she freely gave. Luna soon looked forward to their meals, enjoying their conversations, but very soon, she had grown bored outside of the time they spent together.
With nothing to do, Luna started venturing around the château on her own. The guards rarely spoke a word to her, and the Wild Bunch were always in and out, so she was left unbothered.
And it was in her search that she found Kit’s library.
A library.
Books as far as her eyes could see, the masculine tones of the space prominent in the mahogany wood fitted to the walls, shelves, and stuffed armchairs.
Venturing further into the room, her fingers had danced over the spines of several books, reading them as she went.
There were all sorts, like the classics such as The Picture of Dorian Gray and a few by Jane Austen, but there were also rows of encyclopedias and tome-like books with lettering she couldn't read.
And these were all just by the door—she had yet to make it around the entire room.
Den of Mercenaries: Volume One (The Mercenaries Book 1) Page 56
