Page 18 of Bred By the Mercenary

My mind’s ablaze with the masquerade party, with the crackling sound in his ear from a communication device, then he jumped off the balcony and vanished. Then the news reports about them finding a dead body on the property.

“Oh my God!” I gasp. “Did you kill the person they found at the mansion? It’s all over the news.” Part of me is scared because, firstly, am I really believing this, and secondly, I’ve just moved on from a crazy stalker ex to a fucking mercenary in guys I’m attracted to.

I must be completely broken.

Daxton studies me, not looking like he’s going to make me his next victim… I hope.

“It’s not as black and white as that, Amelia. It’s a complicated world, and yes, I’ve done things I’m not proud of. But that’s not who I am anymore. I left that life behind, I’m retired, and I want to start a family.”

Her eyes wide up with shock, but she’s not saying anything, so I continue with my explanation.

“That night was my last hit.” His voice is steady, but I can hear an underlying current of something like regret. “The man I eliminated that night was a fucking turd of a man. He was a human trafficker. The man I worked for only took jobs for targets who were the worst of the worst in humanity.”

I blink at him, struggling to reconcile this image of him with the man who saved me at the party, who opened his home to me tonight. My mind races, trying to make sense of it all.

“Why did you get involved in something like that?” I ask, my curiosity battling with my apprehension.

Just then, the doorbell rings, and I flinch so hard, I scare even myself. God, I’m so high-strung right now.

“Give me a moment.” He’s on his feet, then he’s at the door, chatting to someone and collecting several filled brown paper bags. The most delicious waft of food finds me, and my stomach rumbles.

“Food’s arrived,” he announces, making his way over to me. Laying it all down on the coffee table in front of us, he pulls out several white Chinese takeout boxes. There are six, each one with all kinds of stir-fries and noodles, then several others with egg rolls and prawn toast.

“Help yourself,” he says, waiting for me to make my choice.

I go for something that looks like Mongolian Beef on fried rice. With chopsticks in hand, I sit back and dig in while Daxton eats an egg roll and chooses a flat noodle dish.

“So, you were talking about why you ended up in this field of work.” I curl my legs under me as I watch him eat.

He sighs, stabbing his chopsticks into his dish and stirring it around.

“Survival. Choices… or the lack thereof. It was a different time, a different me. I had to fight to make it out of the life I was born into. The man who trained me, he gave me a purpose, a way out. It came with lots of rewards, but it also came with a cost.”

I sit there, absorbing his words. It’s a lot to take in. Part of me wants to run, to escape this complicated world he’s hinting at, but another part of me—the part that’s drawn to him, that feels safe in his presence despite everything—wants to understand, to see the man I’d fallen head-over-heels for at the party.

“So, you’re not... doing that anymore?” I ask, needing to hear it from him.

“No, Amelia. That part of my life is over. I’m trying to start anew, and you... you’re a part of that new beginning I want,” he says, his gaze locking with mine. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes I haven’t seen before.

I’m torn between fear and fascination, the danger of his past clashing with the connection I feel with him. My heart beats faster, not just from fear but also from an undeniable attraction that’s hard to ignore.

As I try to wrap my head around everything Daxton has just revealed, I can’t help but ask, “So, why did you vanish for so long? Were the cops after you?”

He devours some of the noodles, and after swallowing a mouthful, he says, “The bastard’s business partner saw me at the party taking down his friend and put out a hit on me… so I had to bide my time until I got him, too.”

It feels like he’s talking about a movie.

“I-I don’t know how to feel,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

“These are really bad people, Amelia. Let’s leave it at that, but I’m telling you so you can see I’m not hiding anything from you,” he assures me.

I eat more of my food, using the moment to process everything, to deal with the dread in my gut.

“It’s just a lot. Maybe it’s why I felt so safe around you... like I knew you were so much more.”

He smiles again, but it’s a grin that seems too gentle, too angelic for a mercenary.

“Tell me more about you and how you ended up working at the bar?”

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