Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(12)

Luna screamed in surprise as one attempted to grab her, narrowly getting hold of her before she lurched back through the door and took off the way she came. Blanco was no longer at her heels, launching himself at one of the men, sharpened teeth latching on to his ankle.

“Fucking hell! Someone get the mutt!”

He was American, her mind registered though she was still running, his accent unmistakable. At her father’s request, Luna had been enrolled in one of the best private schools in the city, ensuring that she learned English since it he’d said it would be good for her future. Now, she spoke it as well as her native Spanish, and in that moment, she was glad for his insistence.

Luna was almost to the end of the hallway when she heard Blanco make a horrible whining sound as he was kicked. Despite her desperate need to get away before they could catch her, she found herself whirling around at the sound.

“Leave him alone!” She couldn’t let them hurt him, not when they were there for her.

But in her foolishness, one of them snuck up behind her and she felt a pinch her neck a moment before a cooling sensation whipped through her. “S’alright,” a voice said at her ear, not harshly despite what he was doing. “You go to sleep now.”

There was only a moment, a heartbeat before her body grew lax in his hold and her vision blurry. Voices warped and blended together, and just before she passed out entirely, she heard:

Target acquired.



Luna had been so lost in her retelling that she hadn’t realized they were no longer alone. There was a man, as sharply dressed as Uilleam, though more than three decades older. He set a glass down for Uilleam, then looked to her.

“For the lady?”

She blinked in surprise, looking to Uilleam.

“Have you eaten?”

She shook her head—not since the day before.

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

Despite her answer, Uilleam said, “Bring whatever we have on hand, Dominic. Thank you.”

The man disappeared as quickly as he came.

“What do you remember of the days following?”

If she thought he would be moved by the horrific tale she had just described, he wasn’t. His expression hadn’t shifted even a little, as though this was something he heard everyday.

Not sure what to think of that, she answered, “I was taken to a warehouse where I was held for three days.”

“What happened while you were there?”

Why did he want to know?

Especially since he seemed so disinterested.

While she was trying not to sink too deeply into those horrible memories, he acted as though he were asking her to retell a story from a book. It wasn’t making any sense—but he, himself, wasn’t making any sense either.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Luna hadn’t understood it either. For the three days that she had been held, while she had been kept locked away in a room, unable to do anything more than scream herself hoarse demanding to be let go, no one bothered her. The only time someone came into her room was to deliver food and take her to the showers that were on the other side of the warehouse. Even when she attempted escape that first night, she wasn’t beaten for her insolence, merely told not to try it again as she was dragged back to her room.

Truthfully, those three days hadn’t been bad—at least not compared to what she had suffered after she left that place.

Luna told him just that.

But when she did, he merely nodded, then said, “After that time, is that when you were given to Emmett?”

This time, it was her turn to nod. “Yes.”

He seemed troubled a moment, his brows drawing together as he prepared to speak, but before he could, Dominic reappeared with a tray, setting it down between them. Whatever moment they were having was abruptly over as Uilleam’s expression cleared, and he was back to indifference.

“Interesting.”

“Why would—”

She stopped short as Dominic leaned over to whisper something in Uilleam’s ear. Whatever he said had the other man nodding, and when Uilleam looked back at Luna, she doubted he would be answering her question anymore.

“Since we’ll be landing soon, I think it’s best I explain to you why we’re in New York. As of now, you’re of no use to me.” When she just stared at him, he continued. “But there’s potential that I intend to exploit.”

Her unease grew, her throat feeling tight as she thought of what he could mean.

“But don’t worry about that now. One day, after all this unpleasantness is behind us and you complete a rather minor task for me, you’ll be free to return to an ordinary life if that’s what you choose.”

“But I still don’t know what you want from me,” she whispered, still trying to make sense of it all.

“Loyalty,” he returned, gesturing with a nod of his head to the tray of food in front of her, a silent command for her to eat.

She had forgotten it was there.

Though she wasn’t very hungry—she was too anxious to feel anything else—she picked up one of the square sandwiches—one that didn’t have cucumbers on it—and nibbled the corner of it.

Loyalty. Was that all he wanted? “Okay.”

If he asked for nothing else, this she could give if only because he got her away from Lawrence and didn’t seem to expect much from her in return.