Page 72 of The Phantom's Vice

I straighten, my eyes gazing around the clearing. Two targets on my right at three and two. One directly to my left and another at eleven o'clock.

My hand grips the dagger at my waist, and with my eyes trained on the Rooks to my right, I jam my blade into the side of the Rook at my left.

One one thousand.

Thick, wet gurgles replace his laughter, and I ripthe blade from his throat, using my momentum to lunge toward the Rooks on my right. My blade swipes the carotid of the one closest to me, and as he falls, I jerk my knee between the other’s legs, jabbing my blade through his eye socket when his body curls forward on instinct.

Two one thousand.

The last Rook races toward me, his face curled in rage as he brandishes his weapon out toward me. I bend my knees slightly, flicking my blade toward him with a lazy smirk. The satisfying squelch of steel lodging into his windpipe tells me my weapon hit home.

His body hits the ground on three one thousand, and at the exact moment, I mime an explosion with my hands, never taking my eyes off Master, who watches, frozen in place. With a deep, unsettling laugh, I step toward the fallen Rook, pulling my knife from his throat and wiping it off on his shirt before straightening.

“This is what you wanted, right?” I ask, wondering if he’s aware of the piece of soul he’s permanently ripped from my body. If he’s aware of the monster he’s created. “THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED!”

Without a word, Master turns on his heel, gesturing for me to follow him. “Come, Boy. We have much work to do.”

And though I’m consumed by nothing but hatred, If I could see his face, I bet Master would be grinning from ear to ear.

I tell Brett everything. How I was taken by Reapers that fateful day more than thirty years ago, how I spent my life training to be the perfect assassin for the Sanctum. How I learned that to care for someone means destruction. How to sleep, eat, and breathe the job I’d been trained for. How I had no other option, no other choice.

I explain why I killed that FBI agent all those weeks ago. That he was secretly taking bribes from the Sanctum and using the money to fulfill his sick desires. How he ended up taking too much one time, and how I was tasked with disposing of him. The only thing I don’t explain iswhyI left him in such a similar fashion to her foster father.

I tell her about Orion and the day I found him, scared and alone at just five yearsold in some crack house, crying over the body of his mom, the needle still sticking out of her arm from her overdose. I tell her how I decided to take him in, and how I’ve hidden him from the Sanctum all these years, secretly training him to infiltrate the organization. I tell her about Madam and her terrifying twin tigers. I talk of her malevolence, the wickedness that lives inside her, infecting everything and everyone around her.

I tell her everything—all the horrifying things I’ve witnessed and done, down to the smallest detail. The people I’ve killed, hurt, or maimed. The people I’ve let down. The children—oh God, the poor children—who have fallen prey to her rule while I’ve been biding my time. By the end, she’s shaking and pale, refusing to look me in the face. For a moment, I think I’ve lost her. That I’ve gone too far this time, and she won’t be able to unsee the monster I’ve become.

But then she lifts her head, and my heart stops at the pain swirling in her beautiful blue eyes. Every thought leaves my mind—every want, feeling, and need—until it’s just us. Brett and me, two fucked-up peas in a pod. And she’s looking at me like she finally understands. This pain I’m witnessing is notbecause of the things I’ve done but rather the things that have been done to me.

She steps toward me, stopping when we’re barely a breath apart. Her hands reach up to my face—to my mask—and I jerk back before her fingers can so much as brush the cool metal. Hurt flashes in her eyes, and her mouth twists up in a wry, all-knowing smile.

“You can’t hide behind it forever, Ghost.”

I jerk, holding a hand to my chest as my heart threatens to beat out of its cage.Lord, how she can burn down my walls with a single sentence. And I’m the fool who’s willingly dousing himself in kerosene to feel her fire. Relishing the burn.

“Brett, I think I’m falling in l?—”

I don’t get to finish that statement because as soon as that last word falls from my lips, Brett’s hands curl around the edges of my mask, attempting to pry it from my face. My chest seizes, and this time, I can’t remember how to take oxygen into my lungs.She’s… she’s…

I don’t fight. I don’t so much as protest when she pulls the awful black metal from my face. All that training, all that dedication, all those years of torture down the drain because of Brett. The onlyproblem is… it’s the most freeing thing in all thirty-five years of my worthless existence.

Goddamn Brett motherfucking Evangeline.

A soft gasp pours from her lips as my mask is fully removed, and I take her wrist in my hand, looking down at the futuristic contraption that’s been plastered to my face for the past two decades.I can’t believe I let her take off my?—

My line of thought is cut off as Brett’s hands find my face, and my eyes close in bliss as warm tingles spread throughout my body. Her fingertips are so gentle as they explore the planes of my face. The sharp angles of my cheekbones and jaw. The little scar on my lower lip I got from my first fight. The crooked twist of my nose bridge from too many devastating blows. The arch of my thick yet pale brows that perfectly match the color of my snow-white hair. Brett takes her time, her brows pinched as she discovers every dip, crest, and bubble of the minuscule scars lining my face like constellations. Like imperfections.

My eyes fly open as her fingertips prod around my eye sockets, and for the first time, I see Brett’s eyes with my own.They’re more dazzling than I could have imagined. All of her is.I stare into her ocean-colored eyes, mesmerized by the thin green circlearound her pupil that I hadn’t noticed with the mask.

“They’re purple…” she whispers, her eyes locked in on the strange violet hue of my irises. “They’re… beautiful.”

Her mouth is slightly parted as she holds my gaze, and before I know what I’m doing, I dip down and press my lips to hers. Lightning passes between us as she deepens the kiss, throwing her arms around my neck and parting her lips. My tongue sweeps across her bottom lip, delving inside her briefly and moaning as the taste of her floods every sense I have.And this is just from a fucking kiss.

Brett moans softly as I take her lip between my teeth, careful not to bite too hard like before. It’s justso hardwhen all I want to do is sink my teeth deep into her flesh. She’s so fucking delectable, so soft and smooth and lovely and warm and—fuck.I’m ruined for her, putty in her perfect little hands, and she doesn’t even realize it. But she will.

“Brett,”I growl, pulling her into another deep kiss. “Brett, I’m obsessed with you.”

“I know,” she whispers, a devilish grin breaking our kiss. I bring my palm down hard on her ass, and she has to bite her lip from letting out a scream. When I look at her face, her eyes are slightly hooded,and she drags her chest achingly slowly down my abdomen.

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