A Matter Of Justice (Grey Justice #4)(33)

Later on, the physical punishments had come. Not because she had misbehaved or had stopped being afraid of the dark. Punishment was followed by reward, again and again, until she would do anything…anything to prevent his punishment. She had often likened her behavior to a perverted version of Pavlov’s famous experiment. She had practically salivated to not only avoid punishment but to receive affection. Like a well-trained pet or a puppet on a string, Reed had commanded, and she had followed those orders to the letter.

Until one day, she didn’t.

After more than a decade of therapy, she understood more about the manner of man Hill Reed had been. On one hand, he saved her from certain death. He’d fed, clothed, and housed her. She had loved him with all the fervor of her na?ve young heart, believing what she was receiving was love. He had abused and used her for his own evil works. Even as she hated the things he did, she had accepted them. They were the norm for her, and she hadn’t known anything different.

Then she had met people who showed her a different way of life. Goodness and light, justice and mercy. They were hers for the taking, but in the end, she destroyed those, too.

And now she was back in the heart of that hell, the place where it all began. But this was different. She was here on her terms, with one very specific purpose in mind. She would find the information she needed and deal with it. What that meant, she didn’t yet fully know. She only knew she had to pursue this till the end. And if getting what she needed took her life, at least she would die with a clearer conscience and her soul intact.

As she crept through the darkness, she wondered about the ease with which she was able to penetrate the house. She wasn’t egotistical enough to believe her success was all due to skill. Nothing worthwhile came without effort. No guards were about, no motion sensors activated. Why was Dark making this so easy?

Not that it mattered. Even if he was setting a trap, she had no choice but to take the chance. Getting to the records was her only goal. If that involved some risks, she was prepared. She had yet to demonstrate that she was better trained and more skilled than Dark could ever fathom. Whatever came her way, she could handle.

Though the mansion was enormous, the layout was simplistic. First floor held three parlors, a bar/clubhouse for social gatherings, a kitchen, and an enormous dining room. When Reed was alive, he had often held dinner parties for his elite assassins. She had never been invited, but she had heard about them. Considering that Hill House was so empty, she doubted that Sebastian threw many dinner parties.

Dark’s private quarters covered the entire back part of the mansion, along with his private offices. The bedrooms and private apartments were located on the second floor, where she was staying. The third floor held the interrogation and training rooms, as well as the records room.

Hacking into computers was so much easier than breaking into a room filled with paper records. Hill Reed had known this. Though he had adapted the use of a cellphone for convenience, he had never embraced what he called the modern tools of communication. The more the world relied on technology, the more old-school he had become. She had teased him once that Morse code was next on his agenda, and he had laughingly described how Morse code and notes on paper napkins had been the only communication used in the successful killing of an entire family.

That conversation was the first time she realized how very much she hated him. Being able to discuss the decimation of a family with both amusement and pride, but not the slightest hint of remorse, made her recognize just how sick of a bastard her mentor really was. She had known he wasn’t a good man and had fought the love/hate battle with him for years. But in that one conversation, she had accepted that her hatred of him was far greater than the minuscule amount of affection that remained.

She made it to the third floor without her flashlight. No lights would burn until six o’clock tomorrow morning. Fortunately, she knew this house so well that lights weren’t necessary. Many nights, unable to sleep, she had roamed the halls. Insomnia had been a major problem back then. And now she realized how fortuitous her condition had been.

At just before three a.m., all was quiet. Even a death house had to sleep. Oddly enough, she was tense and nervous. Usually when she was on an op, she was able to shut down all nerves and do the job. Tonight felt off, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. She consoled herself that once she was out of here, she would find a gym and work the kinks out of her body. A little one-on-one with a boxing bag and she would be fine.

She stood at the door to the records room, noting that the locks had been upgraded. Reed had used old-fashioned deadbolts, but Dark obviously felt the need for a bit of technology. She was grateful for that. Maintaining silence was of utmost importance. Cracking a passcode was not only easier than breaking a lock, it was also less noisy.

Half an hour later, she wasn’t feeling quite as smug. Her handheld decoder was the highest-quality one on the black market. She had opened much more complicated locks. The delay was seriously cutting into the time she’d be able to spend searching. She had to—

The last digit lit up, and with an almost silent click, the lock disengaged. Her tension easing a bit, she twisted the knob and walked inside. The room hadn’t changed much. The musty smell of old files blended with the lemon-scented air freshener someone had recently sprayed. Rows of filing cabinets were lined up against two large cream-colored walls.

One long summer, she’d been nine or so, Reed had still been trying to determine how he could use her best, and she had worked inside here for hours on end. Filing, alphabetizing, shredding. Nothing had been too menial. The work had been mind-numbing and boring, but not difficult. The small, enclosed space was what had almost driven her up the wall. When Reed had seen how she responded to confinement, he had exploited that weakness until she learned to control her reaction.