Page 71 of War Games

“Okay, Shadow,” Reaper says as the waitress scurries off to grab us some drinks. “You’re killing me here. I can’t sit by and not ask anymore. How the fuck did you end up here?”

My eyes widen, shooting toward Reaper. We’ve made a point not to ask her about her life, hoping that she would open up when she was ready, but time is quickly running out, and despite how comfortable she’s become with us, she hasn’t dared to even whisper about her life or how she managed to become one of the best contract killers at only thirteen. I won’t lie, curiosity has been killing me too, but I’ve managed to bite my tongue so far. Reaper apparently doesn’t possess the same self-control.

Shadow freezes, her gaze shifting to me, and seeing that same curiosity in my eyes that she sees in Reaper’s, she lets out a breath, and I prepare myself for whatever’s about to come out of her mouth.

“I, umm . . .” she pauses, grabbing hold of the napkin on the table and quickly tearing it to pieces. “I was raised in an organization that trains children to become super spies and assassins. We’re stolen from the hospital right after birth. We’re never even held by our birth mothers. They were told their babies were stillborn, and from there, the babies were shipped off to their underground training camp, which is where I stayed until I was enrolled in these games. There’s no love there. Toddlers learn how to handle weapons before they learn to walk, and the second they are capable of holding their own, they are taught to fight.”

Tears fill my eyes as I look at this sweet child. “Tell me this is a sick joke,” I beg her.

Shadow shakes her head, glancing away as though the emotion in my eyes is too much for her to bear. “We’re not raised to have the same values and morals as normal children. We don’t ridebicycles or indulge in arts and crafts. Up until you hugged me in my room the other day, I’d never experienced that in my life. We’re raised to be fearless robots, yes-men to our captors, and we’re taught that our lives are expendable. We’re nothing more than a number, and when our number is called, it’s an honor to do our part, even if it means sacrificing yourself for the mission.”

Holy fucking shit.

My heart breaks for her, and all I can do is reach across the table and take her hand, knowing without a doubt that Reaper and I have to do something about this. We can’t let her take the win only to end up right back there after we’re gone.

“What do you mean number?” Reaper asks, his usual mask of indifference beginning to slip.

“The organization . . . They don’t believe in names. It weakens us. It’s seen as an unnecessary luxury that conforms to typical family values. Offering somebody a name is to give them value, and once they’ve been given that, they will learn to depend on it, and soon enough, they are a slave to their emotions. Allowing yourself to be ruled by simple human emotions . . . It’s weak. And weakness has no place in our organization. I am known as thirty-eight.”

I squeeze Shadow’s hand, drawing her dark gaze back to mine. “To have love doesn’t mean to be weak, Shadow,” I tell her. “To allow yourself to open up to another and learn to trust shows incredible strength. To have vulnerability and make mistakes . . . it makes us human, and that’s perfectly okay. Surely you can see that.”

She nods, her bottom lip beginning to quiver. “I am starting to learn that,” she tells me before shifting her gaze back to Reaper. “I don’t ever want to go back to that place.”

“You won’t,” he vows to her. “I promise you, Shadow. I don’t know how this is going to play out or what’s going to happen, but these games end the second the brothers and Gasoline are dead.I’m not sacrificing either of you, and the second we can, the three of us are getting out of here together.”

“You really mean that?” she asks, sitting up straighter.

“Yes, Shadow. You, me, and Siren; we’re a family now. I have your back, just as I expect you to have both mine and Siren’s. From here on out, we stick together.”

Shadow nods just as a burger and fries are placed down in front of her. “Okay,” she finally says, as a smile pulls at her lips. “I’ve never had a family before.”

“Neither have we,” I tell her, my heart breaking for everything this girl has been through in her short thirteen years. “It’s a learning curve for us all, but we’re going to figure it out along the way.”

“Okay,” she says again. “I just have one question.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Are families supposed to share everything? Because Reaper’s got these really cool custom blades that I’ve been dying to get my hands on, and if I’m being honest, I already stole three of them.”

Reaper scoffs. “I fucking knew some of those blades were missing.”

I can’t help but laugh as I meet Shadow’s gaze. “I’ll make you a deal,” I tell her. “If the three of us get out of Blue Springs unscathed, I’ll order you all the custom blades your little heart desires.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she tells me with a wide grin before finally scooping up the burger that somehow seems bigger than her whole head and taking a massive bite, ultimately shutting her up for the next forty-five minutes.

26

SIREN

Rolling over in bed, I stare up at the ceiling as an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. I can’t put my finger on it, but something doesn’t feel right. “What’s wrong?” Reaper murmurs beside me, locking his strong arm around me and pulling me in tighter against his body.

“Not sure,” I say, pulling out of his hold and sitting up. “Something just . . . doesn’t feel right.”

He sits up with me, watching me through a cautious stare. “Something’s really not right, huh?”

I shake my head, unable to figure it out. There’s physically nothing wrong, and there’s no reason for me to have woken up in the middle of the night, but I can’t seem to shake it. It’s been five days since the explosion at the warehouse, bringing us to day twenty-eight, and while Gasoline and the brothers haven’t been able to draw us out, they’re quickly running out of time.

I’ve been on the edge ever since.

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