Page 47 of Lethal

I’m not about that dying life, only the killing life.

Before we shoot any of the assholes we come across, we carefully make sure it’s not Brent. That bastard deserves a lifetime of torture for what he’s done to Cole’s sister; we don’t want to accidentally give him a pass on his one-way ticket to a pure agony filled end. No passing go for Brent.

Not to mention, we need to find Cole’s sister first.

After slowly making our way from one room to the next, we find Brent in the kitchen. Dark brown liquid and broken shards from the coffee cup litter the tiles around his passed out form. I’m surprised a ruthless man who deals in skin would get his own coffee. He seems like the type who’d have someone else do every little thing for him, simply because he can.

Cole holsters his gun and bends to pick Brent up, taking him to one of the nook chairs off to the side of the room. “We found Brent. Any sign of Becca?” I ask into the com device.

I lean against the counter and watch as Cole zip-ties Brent’s hands behind his back. “Nothing yet. We’ll keep you posted,” Jasper responds. His tone is factual, lacking all the affection he normally has when speaking to me. It’s easy to tell how much he’s concentrating on his task.

“The gas should be neutralized in three minutes,” Grayson adds, and I briefly wonder how he’s enjoying the role of command center in the SUV.

While we wait for it to be safe to take off the masks, I prepare a dose of the reversal agent. No sense in needlessly waiting around for the drug to work through his system when we can wake him immediately. I stride over to where Cole is simply staring at Brent. His fists are balled at his sides and his eyes seem empty. Something about him appears absolutely frozen in place.

Worry washes through me. I knew this would be a delicate situation, but never in my wildest dreams did I think Cole would get lost in his own mind. At least that’s what I think is happening. I can’t be sure.

“Cole?” I place my hand on his arm, trying to draw his attention. He doesn’t move. No flinching, not even a blink of his eyes. He’s transfixed by the man. Staring at him while trapped in his thoughts. “Cole.” I try again, to no avail.

I’m not sure what to do. Should I carry on with the plan? Or wait until he’s able to respond? Should I reach out to the others and interrupt their search for Becca? Fuck.

“All clear on the gas,” Grayson announces.

“Copy,” Jasper replies.

“Thank fuck,” I grumble into the com. This mask is getting to be suffocating. It’s hard to draw in a breath through all the filters, and the visor is clouding over with moisture. The quality doesn’t hold up against the ones I could get my hands on.

The moment the mask is clear, I take a deep breath. My face feels damp and cool compared to seconds ago, and I wipe it with the corner of my shirt.

Cole still hasn’t moved, the mask firmly in place like he didn’t hear us. I carefully step next to him and reach for the mask. When he shows no signs of realizing I’m here, I take it off him. His hand flashes out and grips my wrist, so hard I almost drop his mask.

His hold is punishing, biting into my skin. It’s so tight, my bones feel as if they are grinding against each other. “I need you to do it, Raven. I trust you.” His voice comes out monotone, and another stab of fear pulses through me.

“Are you sure?” I can’t help but question his decision. He’s clearly not in his right frame of mind.

“Please,” he croaks, not looking at me. There’s a quiver to the word, and it makes me want to wrap him in a hug. To comfort him like I’ve never wanted to comfort someone before. Damn Grayson for making me soft. I shake off the foreign desire and steel my nerves.

I’m already standing close enough to Brent to stab him with the needle. Within a few seconds of me pushing the plunger down, he comes to. His lids flutter open before he gasps, taking in a deep breath like he was starving for oxygen.

For the first time since he secured the man, Cole moves. He grabs one of the nearby chairs and turns it around, straddling it and crossing his arms over the back. His gaze remains fixed on Brent, unblinking.

Brent doesn’t seem to fully wake for a moment, his face groggy as his eyes roam over the room until he fixes me with his stare. As if reality dawns on him, understanding washes over his eyes. “Did I break one of his unspoken rules?”

The question makes it clear he thinks I’m here for some other reason. Perhaps if I play my cards right, I’ll get some answers if I go along with it...

Instead of responding, I watch him with a coldness transfixed to my features. I don’t blink, similar to how Cole is watching him. Blinking is something I’ve trained myself to do to blend in with others. It doesn’t come as naturally to me. It’s a side effect of always watching my surroundings with a predatory gaze. Now I use it to my advantage.

With each passing second that I don’t respond, Brent twitches and squirms more and more, until finally, he breaks the silence. “Listen, if the Tulip Broker listed his rules, I swear I wouldn’t have broken any of them. He said the only thing that was off limits was killing the merchandise. Which I didn’t do. They were alive when I dropped them off.”

“Are you sure that was the only rule?“ I stress the word sure like I already know the answer to my question.

After a moment, he adds, “Killing, and I wasn’t allowed to wound to the point of scarring them. But that was only because I didn’t pay extra for it. I really don’t know what I could’ve done to have him send The Guild after me.”

I don’t know who the Tulip Broker is, but The Guild I recognize. That’s the assassin network the guys have told me about. Now, why would he think this flower person would send someone to kill him? Aside from breaking some rule that he doesn’t even know what it could be.

Cocking my head to the side, I give him a dispassionate glare before rolling my eyes and focusing on my nails, picking at them as if I couldn’t be any more bored. “Perhaps you should go over every little detail you can remember out loud with me, and maybe then you’ll realize what it was.”

“The house is clear,” Jasper says in my ear. “There’s a sex dungeon in the basement. And I use that term loosely. There’re instruments for torture with dried blood on them.”

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