Page 14 of Finders Reapers

Both men exchanged a glance.

I squinted. “It’s rude to—”

Rome interrupted. “Don’t start that shit,myshka. The only people that give a fuck about rudeness spend too much of their lives having bad sex and getting cut in line at Walmart. You’re dead. Fuck etiquette.” Rome punctuated his word by stuffing the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.

I had to admit, he had a point.

I wasn’t about to tell him that, though.

The men didn’t say another word as they strode back to the elevators, and I assumed that they simply expected me to follow them.

Which pissed me off.

Once we were all crammed into the elevator, Rome jammed his thumb against one of the buttons, and the doors swished closed. Fletcher reached into his pocket and took out a lollypop. He unwrapped it and stuffed it in his mouth.

As soon as the elevator began to move, I closed my eyes to avoid looking out of the glass walls and into the dark abyss of the elevator shaft. Every so often, a tiny ding would draw me from my reverie as another floor passed by, though we didn’t stop and no one else got on.

With my eyes closed, I was left with my thoughts for a moment.

First, the girls in the coffee room. They’d mentioned my user handle specifically and that I had died in a pool.

Then, Fletcher had brought it up as well.

I had no reason to trust anyone in the weird office building in the desert, but I didn’t have any reason to distrust them yet either.

Had I really drowned?

Drowned? Me?

That was ludicrous. In high school, I was on the swim team. I still did a half-mile in my pool every morning.

My memories were foggy, just as my emotions were. Every time I tried to tunnel deep into the person I was, to my sense of self, and my very core, it flickered away like ashes from a bonfire.

Would I ever feel anything again?

“Are you two Reapers?” I asked.

Rome scoffed but didn’t answer.

Fletcher moved the lollypop stick from one side of his mouth to the other, and it clicked against his teeth. “What gave us away?” He winked.

I ignored the question and asked one of my own. “What’s it like?”

Fletcher shrugged, but his green eyes sparkled. “Not bad. The benefits are good. Paid for accommodation and food.”

“If I become a Reaper, I won’t be dead anymore, right?” I asked hopefully.

Rome clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You’ll still be dead, Wisp.”

“Rome,” Fletcher warned.

The dark-haired man shrugged and kept his head facing forward. “She’s on probation. She isn’t a Reaper until she gets her scythe.” Rome glanced at me, and a slow smirk crossed his lips. I didn’t like the expression. “Not to worry, myshka. We’ll be welcoming.”

I didn’t ask what Myshka meant, but I had the feeling that it was insulting. I bared my teeth in an expression so far from a smile that it wasn’t funny.

“Are you two in the same Grim?” I asked.

Rome and Fletcher exchanged a look.

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