Page 4 of Breathe
But he was willing to give the idea of YA a try.
What Azrael hoped for YA in the future was to be considered an extension of Erebus. To become a safe haven. But right now, Erebus leadership knew nothing about what they were up to out here in the woods.
What YA was trying to accomplish was something Erebus did not need to know about at the moment, and Azrael wasn’t ready to share about it
Not yet anyway.
This was his, Boston’s, and Rebel’s baby. They had brought Beck on because he was one of Solomon’s lost boys.
Lost boys weren’t really the right words to call them…What they had been through had been sickening. The ugly truth was that most of them had been taken by Solomon and turned into killers or sold into sexual slavery.
They were all broken or damaged. Living that life in agony had wrecked their lives.
That they had risen out of the ashes was a testament to how strong each one of them was.
“You think they got the message?” Rebel asked, bringing Azrael’s attention back to the room.
Rebel rolled to his side on the carpet and dark hair fell farther into his eyes.
“You talking about the job you just did?” Beck asked, and Rebel nodded.
Azrael was reminded that while they had timed this job, ithadbeen a job, and warning a guy who was harassing children on their way home from school had been the mission.
“And then some,” Boston answered before he could, waving his hands around as he spoke. “I don’t think that guy will be messing with kids any time soon.”
“Just be sure to check in on him and make sure he remembers our warning,” Azrael said, taking a swallow from his water bottle.
He was positive Erebus wouldn’t think much of their threats toward a bully. Yes, the job had been small, but putting the fear into an asshole was a nice start to their business. Taking on small jobs as well as bigger hit jobs from Erebus would keep the cash flowing in for YA.
That would help with money flow while they tried to accomplish what YA had been designed to do.
What Azrael and the others planned was to find more of Solomon’s boys and bring them into the YA fold. To give them security. Here at YA was better than out there on the streets living as hired guns or worse.
At nineteen, Azrael was the oldest of the group and felt like he had to be the voice of reason. For some reason, they all lookedto him for answers. Beck was also nineteen but slightly younger than him, and Boston was seventeen.
Rebel came in at eighteen. Rebel normally lived on the ranch in Nevada with Crow, but he spent a good amount of the time here during the week and traveled home on the weekends. Sometimes, Crow came to Dave’s, and Rebel met him there. Azrael wondered how Rebel did it. If he ever had the chance to have Real, there would be no way in hell he could go all week without him.
Azrael wasn’t sure how long it would be until they were discovered by one of Dave’s assassin groups. There were several teams—Erebus, Genesis, Aries, and more he didn’t even know the names of. So, he knew it was only a matter of time until they were discovered. However, until then, he had other things to worry about, like funding.
He wasn’t sure how they were going to pay any young assassins that came to work for them. Money was a huge problem right now.
“So, what happens when we find more people like us?” Rebel asked, rolling to sit up, shaking his curly hair away from his face.
Rebel had the same tragic background as the rest of them did; he had come from the same monsters.
“We bring them into the fold. I just don’t know how we are going to pay them yet,” Azrael murmured and perched on the arm of the dark brown sofa.
“We can bring them on as Erebus and have them work here at YA,” Beck said.
“Lie to Dave and Stone?” Boston gulped. “You have a death wish.”
“Fuuuck you,” Beck said, but there wasn’t any heat behind the words.
Boston sucked in a breath and glared at Beck.
“We won’t be lying. We just won’t tell the whole truth,” Azrael cut in before Boston and Beck could start arguing. “What we need to do first is find them.”
“How are we going to do that?” Boston asked, his hands ever moving, fingers fiddling with the water bottle in his hands.
