Page 68 of To Curse A Knight

“What sort of justice system gives a sixteen-year-old child soldier an ultimatum to work for them, Kellan? Are we talking aboutthatjustice system right now?”

I scrubbed my palms down my cheeks and through the scruff of my beard, not liking where this conversation was going. Sagging into the creaking chair, I released a long sigh and met her eyes. All colour leached from them the longer we stared at each other.

“I don’t know, Trish. That ultimatum gave a young man the possibility of a conscience and an entire world outside of gang doctrine. Sometimes, evil deeds have good consequences.”

She remained silent and stared through me, as if searching for the answers to life’s secrets under the surface of my skin.

“Do you remember what I said to you the day I found you, Kellan?”

The day she found me. The day my father had sent me to kill her as my initiation into the position of my birthright. She’d been a junior agent back then; a fierce fighter who’d thwarted my advantage by punching me in the temple and whipping out the second gun at her ankle—the illegal weapon agents weren’t supposed to carry.

We’d been caught in a stand-off—my handgun to her head, her tiny pocket pistol trained on my crotch. Perhaps the most terrifying threat to a teenage kid who’d recently discovered his cock was to permanently mangle his dick.

Maybe she saw the war within me; I wasn’t thirsty to take her life like some of the younger gangbangers in Antonio’s training ranks. I hadn’t wanted this life at all.

Shetook a chance that day, lowering her gun while quoting a phrase, her eyes never leaving mine as she dropped it to the ground. It was the day she’d saved me from a completely scorched heart, but she hadn’t been quick enough to remove its discolored tarnish.

Some days, I didn’t know whether to be grateful or to curse her interference to the high heavens—those days I ached to carry out my father’s bidding without the burden of a heart to feel.

“The greatest good is often born of the greatest evil,” I quoted, rolling my eyes up to the drop-tile ceiling. “You quotedKing Learto a teenage Cartel hit man.”

“I did,” she agreed, and the tiniest shadow of a smile traced her lips. “And that teenage hit man knew the quote. So what does that tell you?”

“My father valued an English education?” I snarked.

“We only remember quotes thatresonate,” she emphasized, her stern gaze that of an annoyed parent. “Why would a shit-for-brains gun-slinging teenager know andrememberthat quote? I had a choice to offer you something outside of a bullet to the brain, and I fought for you. You had to choose to fight for yourself.”

That assertion sat like a stone in my gut. I didn’t feel like I’d fought for myself. My entire existence was purgatory; torn between two worlds where ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’ often got confused, where one step forward was always two steps back.

I fought to be redeemed when I was irredeemable.

“And what are we fighting for now, Trish?” I challenged, the pain of those memories creeping up my spine like the icy fingertips of death. “Who are we fighting for? I play so many sides of the fence; I don’t even know anymore.”

Her weighted stare held a thousand words she wanted to say, but wouldn’t. Trish wasn’t big on platitudes or reassurances. She practiced tough love and trial by fire. Even though I knew she would have my back in every circumstance, she wouldn’t be doling out warm praise or pats on the back.

“Trust me when I tell you that your presence here has saved a hell of a lot more lives than you would have killed as Antonio’s puppet.”

She stood and walked to the dingy window to look down.

I followed her over, taking in the gray carpet of cars and the dots of people, none of them even aware their world and everyone in it could collapse at any moment.

“He’s ready to hand over the flesh trade,” I admitted, finally coming to terms with the inevitable ask; I wouldn’t be able to follow through with it, I realized I didn’t have enough protection on either side of my fence to walk away from Antonio’s desires.

I didn’t want to disappear from the world like Rodriguez, or have Hillary try to jump in to save me from a world I couldn’t be saved from. But I wasn’t seeing another option—that didn’t end with my head on a spike—so I’d serve as the proper example to anyone else that dared to defy Antonio Carlos.

Her reply was quiet, but a challenging question, as if I somehow had the answer and just hadn’t said it out loud yet.

“And what do you suggest we do about that?”

Before I could respond, Maverick strode through the glass doors, a cocky grin on his face.

“I think I found our perp!” he exclaimed, waving a paper printout in the air. “Well, one of them, anyway. This organization ishuge. Their primary base is out of Europe, but they have separate operations across four continents.”

I guessed he was reviewing all of this for Trish’s benefit, since yes, I knew full well how big The Six was, given it wasmyfile. Still, I hadn’t figured out who the perp was, so I should be more grateful my chief agent had found a lead we could actually use.

“We identified a liaison out of London,” he continued excitedly, holding the piece of paper up as if it was the holy grail. “A Bellamy Graves. Hacked his phone calls and traced the phone numbers back to several sites across Greater Europe and North America, but this one was local. Got a picture of the perp off a sat using his GPS location.”

He handed me the grainy gray-scale picture and my heart crystallized to ice in my chest.

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