Team Zero Series 1-3 Boxed Set

by Rina Kent

  “Someone told me to run then left.”

  “Can you describe him or her?”

  “It was a man who spoke in English. He wore a hoodie, but I didn’t see his face.”

  Ghost.

  It must be him. He always wears a hoodie when he’s being his ghostly-self. The bastard is playing with fire. And I’ll fucking burn him alive inside it.

  He made Eloise a target for all of Team Zero. A damn entertainment.

  I’ll hunt him down and crack his bones one by one.

  But I have to get through the fucking withdrawal first.

  I straighten and head back to the house.

  Eloise is calling my name, asking me to wait, but I half-jog inside. Both my head and my heart are on fucking fire. My thoughts spiral out of control.

  Eloise’s become a target. Did Ghost find out that she’s Dr fucking Johnson’s daughter?

  How?

  Would he go after her without Hades’ orders? Perhaps Hades ordered this. Fucking hell. It’s game bloody over if Hades is behind this. He does everything to cover his tracks. If he suspected that Dr fucking Johnson left anything with Eloise, he would want her dead at any price. Her father, although fucking scum, did well by disappearing from her life. None of us knew he had a family. That’s what protected Eloise and her mother all these years. But now, it seems Hades knows.

  It’s with an excruciating effort that I finally reach my room.

  A stab of pain almost splits my skull open. The sheer force causes me to fall on the mattress, clutching my head.

  Paracetamol did help, but since Ghost told me about it, I don’t reach out for the pills this time.

  He might as well be poisoning me.

  Amidst the chaos of the pain, all I can think about are ways to save Eloise. After Ghost placed a target on her, he must’ve sent Team Zero the file about her. Her work. Her house. Her everything.

  It’s only a matter of time before the dogs come out to hunt.

  Dogs like me.

  Unlike me, they don’t give a fuck about Eloise. They only see a target to eliminate.

  A bloody game.

  Dr fucking Johnson’s daughter no less. This will be a personal vendetta for all of them. A way to vent their anger about being made into Omega’s slaves.

  Fingers touch my shoulder from behind. I flip over, hand slipping under the pillow for my gun.

  Eloise.

  My movements freeze.

  She’s looking at me with a deep sense of concern, tears shining in her eyes. Like she can feel my pain. Like she’s hurting for my pain.

  Someone like me, a nobody, is causing Eloise to shed tears. Like she actually cares about me.

  No one is supposed to care about me.

  I’m suffocated by my own skin.

  “Tell me what to do.” She sits on the edge of the bed, hands checking my shoulder as if she’s trying to find a button that stops this whole mess. “It’s obviously not a normal seizure. Tell me how to stop this.”

  “You can’t.” I reach out to her and hold her close to my chest. She snuggles into me, fingers gripping my T-shirt and teary eyes locked on mine. Deep pain and desperation shine in them.

  For me.

  She’s crying for me.

  As I drown in those eyes, I become sure about one thing.

  For this woman, I’d stop being Hades’ demon.

  For this woman, I’d slaughter any bastard who treats her like a target.

  Even Team Zero.

  Because I don’t belong with them anymore, I belong with her.

  12

  Eloise

  Something wet connects with my lips. I stir, trying to move my head, but the licking continues, over and over.

  I jolt awake, and Charlotte’s tiny face greets me.

  “Bonjour, ma petite.” I croak, propping on my elbows.

  My eyes widen as I make out the red neon numbers on the nightstand clock. Four in the afternoon.

  Have I slept for... five hours?

  That’s a miracle. I rub my face as if to make sure this isn’t a dream. Nope. Definitely a reality.

  I was actually sound asleep for five whole hours. A renewed energy courses through me.

  My lips pull up in a smile. A bubble of excitement forms at the back of my throat. If I’m not mistaken, this is called... happiness.

  I’m happy because I slept like a normal human being.

  My smile drops when I realise that the person I had fallen asleep beside is gone. Only an empty bed and his leather scent remain.

  I release Charlotte and ease out of the bed. My heart hammers as I tiptoe to the bathroom. Crow was in so much pain that it hurt me to just sit and watch. I doubted it had anything to with his gunshot injury and more to do with the drug.

  When I fell asleep, it was with Crow stroking my hair. The seizure subsided and he seemed at peace, which somehow lulled me to the other world.

  What if the symptoms returned during my sleep and he’s dying somewhere?

  The bathroom is empty.

  Where is he?

  I’m about to check the balcony when a loud bang startles me. Without thinking, I run barefoot to the source of the sound. My feet slip on the stairs until I almost fall.

  My feet halt at the threshold of the reception area. Facing the window, Crow’s half-naked silhouette is bathed in the afternoon light. He’s only in trousers that hang low on his hips. His raven tattoo is half-shadowed, appearing as eerie as the man wearing it.

  That’s not what made me stop and stare. Although in part, yes, I can’t stop admiring how beautiful he is. But what caught my eye is the rifle he’s checking, the two guns on the table, and a few knives. They’re all laid out in front of him as if they’re meat and he’s the butcher.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, approaching him with hesitant steps.

  He doesn’t pay me any attention. His entire focus is on wiping the rifle and looking through the hole on top.

  I swallow when I make out his expression. This close, he’s rigid, features stone cold, and movements automatic.

  The killer inside him is on full display.

  “Pack. One bag. Nothing more.” He places the rifle on the table and moves to a gun – still not looking at me.

  I lean against the table to get a better view of his face. “Why?”

  “We’re leaving,” he says casually while filling the magazine of his gun.

  “This is my house, I’m not going anywhere.” I fold my arms and tap my foot. He’s delusional if he thinks I’d ever leave my family’s home. Especially now that I decided to renovate it.

  Crow releases a frustrated breath through his mouth and meets my glare. A deep frown settles between his brows. “This isn’t the time for your stubbornness, Nurse Betty. We need to go.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re a fucking target!” He points a finger at the joker card he plucked from my pocket this morning, now lying beside the knives. “That’s a target card. For Team Zero, that’s an invitation to come out and play with your fucking life.”

  The information pours over me like freezing water. My entire body stiffens, and I gulp. “But... but I haven’t done anything, why would I become a target?”

  “Your father did. You’re paying for his sins.”

  “W-what?” How does he even know my father?

  Crow abandons the gun on the table and runs a hand over his face, before staring into my eyes. The harshness in his causes my skin to crawl. “The Pit had an experiment to form as many loyal assassins as possible. That’s why they came up with Omega. A drug which injects bloodlust into our veins. It made us hyper-focused to the point that killing becomes robotic. Fifty of us started Team Zero.

  “We were in our early teens when they began injecting us with that poison. Countless side effects arose like vomiting uncontrollably, suffering from retrograde amnesia, or going rampant like crazed animals. Until eventual death. From fifty subjects, only eleven have made it to adulthood. But even thos
e of us who survived could face an early death because the fucking drug destroys us from within.”

  My heart breaks, and I find myself instinctively going to his side, wanting to console him. “Is the drug the reason why you have seizures?”

  He nods. “Withdrawal.”

  “And...” I trail off, not wanting to ask the question, but needing the answer like I have never needed anything. “What does my father have to do with this?”

  His lips twitch in pure disgust. “Dr fucking Johnson is the godfather of Omega. We were his lab rats.”

  I gasp, staggering backwards as if someone punched me in the gut. My hands cover my mouth as I shake my head. Maman told me that Dad was in a dangerous world that included drugs, but I thought he was a dealer or something, not that he used them on children.

  Mon Dieu.

  My father is the one who made Crow suffer. My own father is a cold-blooded killer. Nausea fills the back of my throat.

  “You better stop waiting for him.” Crow shoves a hand in his trousers’ pocket, his muscles flexing with tension. “He’s been hunted down five years ago by The Pit’s assassins killed him so he wouldn’t make anything like Omega again. They blew up the safe house he hid in so my bet is that he’s dead.”

  I close my eyes, a tear rolling down my cheek. The father I thought would one day return is a monster.

  Why, Daddy? Why?

  He was the best husband and father anyone can ask for – until he disappeared. Seems that my mother knew at least a hint of what he did, but that didn’t stop her from loving him. How can she love a monster? How can I?

  Because despite everything, my chest hurts at the thought of him being dead. All I can think about when I think of Dad is the unconditional, fatherly love he had for me despite being harsh with the rest of the world.

  “He doesn’t deserve your tears,” Crow murmurs.

  I open my eyes, staring into his darkened ones. “I’m not only crying for him. I’m crying for you.”

  The pad of his thumb touches my cheek, wiping the moisture away. Crow’s expression softens. A profound pain swirls in the depth of his eyes. I feel the wretchedness inside him instead of seeing it. “I don’t deserve your tears, either.”

  Why is he saying things like this? He’s been put through hell since he was a child.

  I clutch his arm and lean into his touch. “You deserve everything, Crow.”

  “People like me only reap what we sow. I’m no saint. I kill to have a purpose in life and feel alive. Sometimes, that doesn’t fucking work either.”

  I’m about to argue, to tell him that if he weren’t kidnapped as a child, none of this would’ve happened, but he cuts me off.

  “You’re different from us. You’re not Dr fucking Johnson and you don’t deserve to be punished for his sins.” He drops his hand from my face, and I mourn the loss. “So move that pretty arse. We’re leaving.”

  He resumes packing his guns.

  I stay in place. “I’ll call the police.”

  He shoots me an unbelieving look over his shoulder as if I just insulted him. “Seriously? You think the fucking police can stop people like us? We kill their commissioners as a bloody sport!”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving.” My throat closes, and fear grips me by the gut. Notorious assassins are coming after my life, but that’s not what terrifies me, it’s the possibility of dying in the middle of nowhere and Crow paying the price for protecting me.

  He whirls around so fast, I flinch backwards. He clutches my shoulders, a murderous shadow crossing his face. “Quit being fucking stubborn! I thought you didn’t want to die anymore.”

  “It’s not about being stubborn.” I try to wiggle free of his hold, but his fingers are digging into my flesh like steel. “I won’t spend the rest of my life on the run with a target on my back. Your fellow assassins would find me anyway. If I’m going to die, then I’m doing it here. In my family’s home.”

  “Eloise...” He warns, the veins in his neck almost popping with tension. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and take you out of here by force. Because I’ll fucking do it.”

  “The only thing you’ll do is leave.” I push him gently towards the door. “This has nothing to do with you. Don’t create a rift with your colleagues because of me. They might kill you as well.”

  I don’t have time to blink as he pushes me with one strong hand. My shins hit the edge of the sofa. I fall backwards with a yelp.

  Crow is on me. He crawls atop of me, his thighs trapping mine in between, and his sharp scowl considering me with pure anger. A tinge of fear lodges inside me. Yet, something about the harshness on his face turns his features a lot more handsome. Roguish. Ethereal.

  “Apparently, the suicidal thoughts haven’t been purged out of you.” He squeezes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you think it’ll be one hit and good fucking night? They have a personal grudge against you. They will skin you alive and ruin that pretty face before they’ll begin feeling satisfied. Is that what you fucking want?”

  “You think I’m not scared?” I shout, hitting his chest. “I am! I’m terrified! But I won’t have you involved in this. It’s none of your business.”

  “Then I’m making it my business.” His lips crash against mine. I gasp, but the sound is swallowed by his urgent, passionate strokes.

  His tongue doesn’t demand access. It dives right in and feasts on me. I’m left breathless. Boneless.

  A tingle shoots down my spine and pools between my legs. A booming ecstasy I never felt in my life bubbles inside me and climbs to the surface, demanding release.

  No. This can’t happen.

  It takes everything in me to pull back from his mouth, but his hold on my jaw keeps me locked in place.

  “Go,” I mumble. “Just go. Please.”

  I’m hanging to my resolve by a thread. It’s difficult to think when his touch is all over me, around me, and seeking to take refuge inside me.

  But he needs to leave. At least save himself.

  “I’m not going anywhere!” Crow cages my face with his hands. “Is that fucking clear?”

  Tears fall on my cheeks, and I can sense my resolve crumbling and crashing to pieces. My fingers dig into Crow’s chest as I bury my face in his warm, hard skin. I’ve never felt like I wanted to keep someone, protect them, and punch them all at the same time.

  “What the hell do you want from me?” I murmur, “I’m so broken.”

  “What a fucking coincidence.” He lifts my head so those deep blue eyes stare at my soul. “I’m broken, too.”

  “Fuck you, Crow,” I whisper my frustration.

  “That’s what I’m about to do, Eloise.” He yanks my legs apart and settles between them. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll forget about death and all his bloody friends.”

  I gasp as an unmistakable bulge brushes against the inside of my thigh. As if his words are dopamine, my nipples harden, straining against the cloth until it’s almost painful.

  My breath hitches. My thighs shake. And I’m so hot, I think I’ll explode. Crow’s fingers brush against my ribs as he tugs my T-shirt off my head, followed by the bra.

  His warm lips find my aching nipples, suckling, nibbling. Torturing. Every lap of his tongue sends a rush of euphoria to the pulsing between my legs. I squirm underneath him. My back arches, pushing off the sofa to meet his relentless strokes. My fingertips glide over his defined abs like I have wanted to ever since I first met him.

  I don’t know what the hell this is, but I want more of it. More of Crow and this fire he ignites inside me.

  Still twisting one of my nipples, he goes back to kissing me. As he said, there’s nothing gentle about him. Or his kiss. He devours my lips as his free hand slips underneath my shorts.

  I whimper into his mouth as he traces the sensitive folds. A contraction forms at the bottom of my stomach. I’m not used to that sensation before he thrusts a finger inside me. A loud moan fills the air, and I rea
lise it’s mine.

  “Bloody hell.” Crow curses as tightness meets him. He grunts against my mouth but doesn’t stop. The double assault of his fingers against my nipple and moving inside me clenches my stomach. A stretching of sorts. A sensation so foreign and ecstatic, I suspect it’s out of this world.

  The build-up has me on edge. Crow takes his sweet time with the slow rotating sensation until I become a whimpering mess.

  I lift my hips, hoping he’ll do something, anything, to quench the ache burning inside me.

  I wrap my hands around his waist, and the muscles flex underneath my touch. “P-please.”

  The ice of his eyes lights up with mischief as he slows his movements even more. “Say that again.”

  “Please…” My voice is so breathy, it’s a miracle I’m even talking. “Please do something.”

  Crow thrusts another finger and curls it inside me while still keeping the back and forth of the first finger. “Like this?”

  My eyes roll to the back of my head as my walls nearly fall apart. “Yes, please, yes!”

  He fastens his movements then. His index and middle fingers stretch me from the inside and his thumb rubs my bundle of nerves. I unravel around him. Endless spurts of pleasure roll all over, through, and inside me. I scream his name, clutching his shoulder, afraid to fall over.

  Or fall apart.

  I’m barely coming to, registering the light, the heavy breaths, and the hard muscles beneath my fingertips. Only there are no muscles. I blink, and Crow is stripping out of his trousers. The tattoos on his shoulders and torso contract with the precise movements.

  The trousers fall to the ground. He’s wearing nothing underneath.

  I bite my lower lip.

  All pleasure from earlier almost vanishes. There’s no way I’ll be able to take him. And yet... oh, merde, how much I want to.

  I meet his darkened gaze and swallow. “This is my first...”

  “Don’t I fucking know it.” He slides down my shorts and underwear and positions himself between my legs. His wild gaze ravishes my naked skin. My body sparks to life as if he’s stroking me with his fingers.

  Crow holds both my thighs in his large hands and rasps, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”