Page 69 of Breathe
And he had no fucking clue what that was.
It turned out that Will wanted him to come back to the ranch.
At first, Azrael had balked, but when Will pushed home that Titus was after Real with a small army, it suddenly made sense.
Although he’d been there before, the ranch was unlike anything he’d experienced long term. It was filled with camaraderie and things like watching each other’s backs, or never going anywhere alone.
It was so totally different than his job with Erebus. Although Erebus had a new rule to work in pairs, Azrael had never done it. The rule wasn’t shoved down their throats or anything, it was a choice. Azrael preferred to work alone when he did wet work for Erebus.
Savage was the leader of Erebus and the guy was a hard ass, but also knew there was only so much leash he could tighten before the members said fuck you and bailed.
What he hadn’t expected was to enjoy the hell out of hanging out with YA assassins, and he figured that was because they were the same age. As much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it, there was a generational gap between YA and the other groups.
The age gap didn’t stop him from wanting Real. In fact, it was one of the things he liked about them as a couple.
Only…he wasn’t sure theywerea couple at all.
From where he stood hidden next to one of the several big brown barns, Real drank in the vision of Azrael.
He had known the young assassin would find a high surface, and it was one of the reasons he had personally picked that particular cabin for Azrael.
He had also attached the wooden blocks to the outer wall that served as a ladder to the roof.
Azrael pulled his knees to his chest, feet flat on the surface, and lifted his face to the bright blue sky. His long ass hair fell down his back, cascading in waves, and Real wanted to sink his fingers into it.
They had been back at the Nightfall Drifters Ranch for three days, and so far, Azrael had avoided him like the plague.
The sound of a scuffle drew his attention, and he caught sight of Freedom and Boston tumbling out of the barracks door and down the steps.
The pair were fighting, and it didn’t look like a practice spar at all. Before Real could even take a step, Azrael launched off the top of the roof to the ground. Thank fuck it hadn’t been that far of a leap, none of the cabins were that tall, but it gave Real heart failure.
He ran full out, but Azrael was far ahead of him.
Out of the barracks came Fierce, and he snagged Boston by the back of his shirt and hefted him off Freedom hard.
Oh fuck, where the fuck was Rip? Real ran full out, but Azrael got there first. Instead of mitigating the fight, Azrael launched at Fierce and hit the guy hard with a kidney punch.
Fierce lost his grip on Boston just as Rip entered the dusty yard. Azrael danced away when Rip came onto the scene. Real had a gut feeling he was going to be too late, and he was.
Rip was fucking fast. Fierce might have bulk on Rip, but there was no way in hell Fierce could win against Rip.
The two bigger assassins went at it in a blur of fists, feet, and knives.
The fight between Rip and Fierce caused Boston and Freedom to stop whatever the fuck they had been doing.
“No!” Freedom wailed when Fierce went down in the dirt, and the tiny blond ran to shield Fierce with his body.
Boston didn’t even speak, he ran and leaped on Rip’s back, clinging to him. Wrapping his arms and legs around Rip’s neck and waist.
“Don’t please,” Boston begged.
Real heard the words because he was close enough.
Fierce leaped to his feet and moved in, even as Freedom clung to his big, beefy arm, getting dragged along.
Stepping between the two big assassins, Real blocked Fierce’s next blow.
Rip had stopped immediately when Boston clung to his back.
