Page 20 of Tainted Wings of Failure

"And who are you?" he asks.

"The infamous White Dove Killer, as requested by Mr. Bloom," Kyle responds on my behalf, throwing one of his arms around my shoulders.

"Does he have a name?"

"Names are not important to the job," I say, keeping my face stern and emotionless.

"Names are important for good collaboration and trust," the guy pushes, and I shoot a glare at Kyle, who gives me his customary shrug.

"I don't trust you yet."

"I guess I can't blame you." The guy shrugs and turns away from us, heading for the door he came from. "We should probably get going before someone sees us and gets suspicious."

While Kyle walks beside him, engaging in small talk, I back off, staying a few feet behind to watch for any suspicious behavior. I don't like working with others. The only one I tolerate is Kyle. I trust him. He is good at his job and usually, with a few exceptions, he gets his shit done properly.

After three flights of stairs, the man pushes through another door into a humid, stuffy hallway. Kyle follows without a care in the world. But something smells fishy. "Hey, Kyle." I raise my hand and place it on his shoulder. He stops, but before he can turn and look at me, a small tranquilizer hits the back of his neck just inches from my hand.

"Fuck," he hisses, reaching for the pin and ripping it out of his skin, but it's too late and he slumps to the floor. I catch him in the middle of his fall and put him on the ground before I quickly draw my two pistols, aiming one at our contact and the other in the direction from which the tranquillizer came.

"You fucking traitor," I hiss at the man, pushing myself to my feet, ready to pounce when the door to the staircase behind me flies open and two men rush in. Acting quickly, I spin on my heel and charge in their direction. I collide headfirst with one of them, ramming my shoulder into his chest, wrapping my arms around his stomach and hurling him over my shoulder.

As I spin around, ready to pounce on the next guy, he is already in the middle of his jump, lunging at me and knocking me off my feet. My body collides with the concrete floor as the man drives a punch straight into my face. I groan in pain, squeezing my eyes shut. But instead of giving up, I thrust my hips up, knocking the man to the ground and tumbling on top of him. I wrap my fingers around his throat and begin to squeeze. My heart hammers against my chest, pumping adrenaline through my veins as I squeeze harder and harder. The man's eyes bulge, the veins in his temple throb and his face turns crimson. A sinister satisfaction rushes through me as life slips from the man's eyes.

A pair of hands lands on my shoulders, yanking me off him and slamming me to the ground. Followed by three more men throwing themselves at me. I groan, trying to push myself to my feet, trying to break free, but I'm shoved back down and the last thing I see is a man's foot coming at my face.

I let out a long, painful moan as consciousness creeps back to me. My brain is clouded with dizziness as the room spins around me while my limbs feel heavy but weightless at the same time. I raise my hand to my face, tracing the outlines of the pulsing pain, inspecting my cheeks and nose, feeling the bone out of place under my fingertips. Great, my nose is broken.

I take a deep breath but choke on the moist air. The lingering stench of mold on concrete burns my lungs. Resting my hands on the floor, I push myself up into a sitting position. The room is dark, the only source of light being the crack in the door, filtering in a narrow strip of bluish moonlight.

Looking around, I spot the silhouette of someone else lying on the ground. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but eventually I make out Kyle's features. I scoot over to him, grab his shoulder and give him a shake. "Hey idiot, wake up." Thankfully, he does, groaning as he squirms and pushes himself up to his knees.

"What happened?" he asks in a hoarse voice.

"We walked right into a trap. Good job." I pat him on the back before getting up and taking another look around the room. There is nothing to give away where we are. The only useful information is the light filtering through the door, indicating that it's night.

"Like you would have done it better."

"Of course. Because I would not have trusted an outsider."

A pair of strong hands land on my shoulder, tossing me around and shoving me back until Kyle has me pinned against the wall. My muscles flex and I reach for my chest, ready to aim my pistol at him for the sudden confrontation. But my holster is gone.

"Our fucking client is the one who set up the contact. You really think my first instinct is that someone we have a history with would betray us?"

"Don't touch me," I force out through gritted teeth, glaring at him. "But you're right. Also arguing won't help us now, we have to get out of here." I shove him away and step out of his reach. I pat myself down, looking for anything, but they took everything that could be used as a weapon. "They even took my fucking belt," I point out with a sigh.

Kyle does the same. "Those bastards," he grunts. "What are we going to do now, Mr. I Know Better?"

I approach the door, grab the handle, push and pull, but to no one's surprise, the door is locked. Obviously. "I guess we have to wait for someone to come back for now," I say, turning back to face Kyle. There's not much we can do now. We're trapped and as annoying as it is, we have to stay calm. Going for each other's throats is what they would like to see. Maybe one of us will kill the other and then they will only have one left to deal with.

At the sound of vents opening, we both tilt our heads up to find a faint mist raining from the sprinklers. I lower my head and meet Kyle's gaze. We both raise our eyebrows and let out yet another heavy sigh. I guess we're not done with our beauty sleep yet.

Chapter 10

Noah

"Look who we have here." A man's voice snaps me out of my haze. The room spins all around me as my eyes burn, my vision blurred by the dried contact lenses still stuck in my eyes. I lift my head to look at the source of the voice entering the dim room, stepping out of a bright, fuzzy light.

I let out a low moan as another punch slams into my stomach; the man in charge of watching me has been using me as a punching bag for hours now. The chair I'm tied to rocks back and forth, just barely staying up. Once I'm free, this bastard will wish he'd never laid a hand on me. I will make his death one of the worst on my record.

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