Chapter 8
KENNA
R ichard Ravencroft was the last person I expected to be a cockblock. As I passed him in the hallway, I paused for a moment to give him a cordial nod. I’m not suicidal enough to get on his bad side, at least not outwardly. Dylan’s disappearance wasn’t coincidental. It hadn’t been addressed but I knew.
He had watched me, but his expression gave nothing away. He was stoic and so uninterested that it almost made me feel small. Instead, I treated it as a challenge. His days were numbered. If only he knew.
With my head held high, I strode with faux purpose in the direction of the training room. At the end of the hall, I turned left, not right. I hoped that would show him my strength, but a look over my shoulder confirmed he’d already left.
I went outside. I was going to have to circle back to Laney. She had to be my mentor; it was the only way.
Reaching the treeline of the perimeter woodland, I dug my phone from my pocket. My other phone. The number I called connected to the first tone.
“Status report.”
“Hello to you too, Mama.”
“Don’t start with me, this is a focused mission. Failure is not an option. What have you got so far?”
“Not a lot. Just a stray henchmen gone rogue. Why didn’t you tell me there would be others here?”
“Your dad agreed that infiltration worked better than a surprise attack. There are too many moving parts to–”
“To leave it to me? I had to find a young girl slaughtered.” I fought down bile. “You are lucky it seems he was tight lipped, because he almost exposed all of us. Do you not trust me?”
“I just know that long missions can be difficult. We adapt to the environment we surround ourselves in. Why do you think I lost my accent, huh? We’ve got to keep each other accountable.”
“Accountable?” I scoffed and covered my mouth with my hand, hiding my moving lips from view. “He’s dead, Mama.”
“You saw a body?” It was as if she shrugged it off. Our numbers were already low, we didn’t need them dwindling too. Sacrifice was one thing, but downright stupidity was not the strategy I’d been taught from childhood.
“More like I felt the reverberations of the gunshot.” It wasn’t public, but it was obvious, like planting a seed in the ground. The disrupted soil was clear while the actual seed was buried out of view.
“Do not get emotional on me now.” There was a pause before she spoke again, this time quieter. “Do we have a date?”
“Yes,” I said as I cupped a hand around my mouth and lifted the phone speaker close. “In twenty-four days.”
“Good. That’s your deadline.”
“I know.”
“November seventh.”
I nodded, though she couldn’t see it.
“Get it done.” She hung up. The typical Karstein send off.
I threw the phone to the ground, and the heel of my boot hard down on it, perhaps with more aggression than was necessary, but it needed to be done somehow. Why not the cathartic way?
After each communication, we destroyed the phone. It was a protocol that meant I never had a phone number of my own—it seemed like a modern-day hell to always be approachable to anyone with your contact. For the longest time, I thought it held me back from people my age, but Dad was right, you don’t need a constant connection. Trust yourself.
After the fire, my family embraced death. The rhetoric that time heals all wounds proved to be a cruel lie; time didn’t heal, it fortified. Revenge brewed and bonded us, all time did was allow us to be prepared to conquer.
But first, there was a girl I had to conquer.
I loathed the Ravencrofts, they massacred my entire family, but I can’t stop wanting her. If only I could deliver one bullet to Richard’s head and grab her hand to run away to some quiet hotel room in the city. Instead, I was faced with the almost impenetrable human shield that the wretched man had built around himself.
Picking up the pace, I walked out the canopy of trees and I headed toward the security office she’d told Grant she would be in all day. I’ll get her to forgive and forget soon enough. I need her on top of me, honestly.
I slipped inside the darkened office without knocking, pasting my back flat on the back wall.
Laney had her headphones on. The only light in the room was the glare from the screen, which lightened the edges of her dirty blonde hair. Around her were expensive technologies, it was hard to feel bad for her in the grandeur of it all. If only I grew up with such access.
“Neenan, I’m busy.” She said briefly lifting one headphone away from her ear before returning it in place.
I breathed lightly, not moving a muscle. I didn’t mean to lurk, truly but the words I planned to say, the questions that had formed, seemed to have left my mind at her sight.
Before I could think to quietly slip back out, she turned in her chair. As soon as she saw me, her voice jumped an octave, “Get out!”
God, she’s beautiful.
“Jesus, do you not listen?” She rattled on. “You are not allowed to be in here. Leave. Now.”
I stepped out of the shadows, walking a slow line toward her chair, silent.
She narrowed her eyes at me, challenge littered across her features as she leaned back in her chair in a faux-relaxed position.
Leaning over her seat, I placed each hand on the armrests so that we breathed the same air. I could smell the sweet lavender scent she wore.
Laney inhaled deeply, her eyes closing in a lethargic manner. She exhaled just as deep. “Kenna,” she breathed, her voice wispy.
“Yes,” I hissed softly back.
When she struggled to find a moment of clarity to speak, I took the opportunity to study her features. The room was darkened, but I could still see the green-tinted grey of her eyes, the soft spattering of freckles on her nose, and the way that her dirty blonde hair showed highlights in reduced light.
I looked briefly at her screen. There was a list of names: some in red, underlined, and some crossed out in green, but my name wasn’t there.
My gaze returned to her. “I’ll be at your door tonight.”
Laney shifted beneath me.
“Don’t ignore my knock this time,” I said, pushing myself off her chair and walking out the door.