Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(57)

What he found as he stepped into the hidden room …

For years he had seen the worst life had to offer. The blood of children, lives lost in the quest for power and fame, but it was nothing compared to the sight of Luna on her knees, cradling the broken, bruised body of a woman he could only guess was the girl she often talked about.

There was blood everywhere, her skin and dress saturated in it. The metallic odor assaulted his nose even as he scanned her for the source of it all.

But besides a number of shallow cuts and newly forming bruises, there was nothing about her appearance that spoke of this much bloodshed.

At least until he got to the pathetic excuse of a man that was left of Lawrence Kendall. His eyes remained wide and unblinking, fixed on a distant spot on the wall—or had it been Luna that was his final sight?

She had made good use of the knives with the sheer number of stab wounds Kit could make out along the man's front. And one curious glance down at his open fly had him quickly looking away—she’d castrated him.

“Luna—”

She flinched, like her own name was hard to hear, but she didn’t release the hold she had on the girl, nor did she turn to look at him. “I should have cut her down sooner.”

Kit noticed then, the hooks in the girl’s back, and one glance up showed him exactly what Luna had meant.

But even at his vantage point, he could see that the girl was no longer breathing—a blessing, undoubtedly. She was sickly thin, with bruises, and her hair shorn. This girl had suffered, and at the hands of someone like Lawrence, it hadn’t ended anytime soon.

“Luna,” Kit called again, not bothering to look at his watch—it was well beyond time to go.

Never mind that the girl, though he knew she was close to her, wasn’t part of the job.

“Fifteen seconds,” she responded back, oddly.

“I don’t—”

“Now twelve,” she said, “before we’re meant to be at the door. I didn’t forget this was still an assignment.”

The way she said that, such hurt in her voice made him wish he could spare her this pain. More than anything, he wished he could take it from her.

After a shaky breath, she looked at him with watery eyes, “Do we have to leave her here?”

He knew what she wanted him to say, she didn’t bother trying to hide that. And the almost clinical side of him knew that leaving her there would be a better course of action, but the other side that was affected by her thought she had suffered enough for one day.

But it wasn’t what he felt for her personally that mattered. “We need to go.”

“We could take her with us, and I—”

“Now, Luna.”

She wanted to argue, protest further, but as she opened her mouth to do just that, shuffling back in the office had Kit palming his gun.

“Boss? Is everything—”

The second he cleared the entryway, Kit plugged two bullets into his chest, then one final one in his head.

They were out of time.

Starting across the floor, he grabbed Luna's arm, intending to drag her out if he had to, but she snatched her arm free, muttering words he couldn’t hear—though he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have liked what she said—then looked back to her friend.

She shook her head, whispering softly as she gingerly laid the girl back down, then moved to her feet. She barely spared Lawrence a glance as she went over to his body and jerked the knives she’d left embedded in him out.

Luna left the room without waiting for him.

Calavera, he though staring after her.

Day of the dead.

Aidra was waiting by the door near the back exit, her gaze intense and scrutinizing as she took them in. Kit knew their time had been up, but Aidra had remained—it seemed everyone was breaking the rules.

On the drive back to the penthouse, Luna never spoke a word.



He was talking to Aidra, but Luna wasn’t listening—nor did she particularly care.

She wasn’t sure at what point her sadness at Cat’s fate had shifted to anger, but once it hit her, she welcomed it—anything but the cloaking sadness that threatened to tear her up.

The second the doors opened and she could walk inside, Luna didn’t hesitate in stopping in the kitchen, bending down to the liquor cabinet and grabbing the first bottle she saw.

She didn’t bother looking at the label, nor did she particularly care what kind it was, she just wanted something she knew would take the pain away.

Luna wasn’t thinking about the fact that she and Kit were sharing a room, or that all of her things were tucked away inside of it. Instead, she headed for one of the spare rooms he’d told her about, closing and locking the door before she headed into the bathroom where she ran a bath.

Screwing the cap off the bottle, she tipped it to her lips, drinking down the burning liquid without hesitation. It seared her throat before settling into her stomach, but as the pleasant warmth began to spread, she didn’t think about that.

Slowly, she wasn’t thinking about anything at all.

Despite her earlier intentions as she sunk into the bath, she let the water burn away the rest of her feelings until she was in a pleasant state of warmness.

There was no pain and death.

There was no heartache and loss.

There was nothing—and she loved it.