Page 11 of Rising from the Ashes

“You’re welcome,” she says in a singing tone.

Walking around the desk, I look at the screen.

My mouth gapes open.

Craig Demassi.

She will not be the one to take him out. I have been working toward avenging the lives my father is responsible for for almost the last two years.

It HAS to be me.

“Who is it?” Drake’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

“Someone she has no business killing.” I snap, as I throw my jacket back on and stalk toward the door.

Drake nods in acknowledgement.

I know he is itching to go out there with me. It’s been hell trying to keep him behind the desk the last ten months since Ariana was born. He isn’t used to the slow paced life of being a father and a husband as compared to being a ruthless vigilante.

“Keep your head on a swivel!” Drake calls out as I exit the frosted glass doors of his office.

A mixture of irritation, doubt, and fear begin to boil in my stomach as I recall the first time I met her.

Surely, she is not that well equipped to go up against these guys.

***

Shaking my head, I bring myself back to the present.

It was easy to fool Everly into bringing me into the fold. I am a good actor. When Drake told me about my new job, I thought I was just supposed to infiltrate The Society and take out E. I have been partners with Drake Reign for almost two years, trying to take down the crime rings in Raventown, Edinburgh and the surrounding areas in Massachusetts. They have been slowly turning the area into a cancerous cesspool. I had tunnel vision when it came to one man, and to be successful in my own mission, I needed the help of The Society for intel. When I accepted the job, I didn’t realize my assignment would be to learn as much intel as I could and to take her out.

The woman I pulled out of a burning building over a year ago.

I was driving home from another hit when I noticed the building go up in flames and I saw them drive away, Silvestri and his crew. I slowed down to take in the scene of the flames engulfing the abandoned factory as if it were a flimsy piece of paper. Knowing I was in Enzo Silvestri’s territory, I was tempted to drive off. There had to be a reason he was destroying his own property. It wasn’t until I heard a female’s muffled screams that my senses came to life.

Without hesitation, I jumped out of my van without even cutting the engine off.

Upon walking in, I had to shield my mouth from the smoke and dodge falling debris. When I came to her, she was lying barely conscious in the fetal position, her wrists bound by thick metal cuffs, chained to a post bolted down to the floor. Anger flooded through me at seeing this small helpless woman left for dead. The moments passed in a blur as I worked to get her free from the restraints. Carrying her out of the building, I remember the way her body felt against mine, her soft hair nuzzled against my neck. I remember whispering to her over and over, “I’ve got you.”

I brought her to Joey, my friend, a former army medic, who I knew could take care of her without asking prying questions. Questions I didn’t have answers for.

He was surprised when he received my call. I don’t save people. I kill them.

As I was lying her on the bed in Joey’s home, I noticed the wounds on her back and rocks embedded in them, along with what looked like brush burns. She had a laceration on the back of her head, bruising under her right eye, and her wrists were reddened with cuts where she must have been struggling to get free. Anger flourished in my stomach along with nausea when my thoughts ran to what she must have had to endure.

“Take care of her.” I told him, and disappeared into the night. He knew I was too consumed with my own demons to help her any further.

She’s changed since then. I see that now. Earlier today, in Drake’s office, I was fearful for her. Now, I wonder if I should be scared of her.

She is no longer that feeble, helpless woman just moments away from death. She’s strong, guarded, and feisty as fuck; albeit borderline annoying.

Pulling my thoughts back to the present, I turn into the driveway at headquarters, the gravel crunching underneath the tires. When I park, Calista hops out and walks around to the back of my van.

She begins to open the back doors when I push my hand on it, closing the door back, “I’ll get your bike out in the morning.”

“Ya know what? I’m too fucking exhausted to entertain whatever game it is you’re playing.” She walks past me, jabbing her shoulder into me, wincing as she says, “Just stay out of my fucking way.”

Quickly gaining access to headquarters by pricking her finger on the serum scanner as the red light searches her beautiful green eyes, she heads up the stairs to her designated sleeping quarters.

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