Page 49 of Vicious Luna
“To clean up your mess,” I grumble, refusing to look back. I never should’ve asked to be her handler in the first place- it’s caused me nothing but grief from day one. Getting to know my captive has only warped my own sense of self and mademe question the organization I helped build from the ground up. It’s made me forget who the enemy really is, just because she came in a pretty package.
I put one foot in front of the other, a cold detachment coming over me as I go through the motions of keying in the code at the top of the stairs and exiting the basement. I return to my room, stash my handgun, and put on a clean t-shirt. Then I head for the kitchen, knowing that’s where I’ll most likely find my dad. He’s a creature of habit and always starts his day with coffee.
As expected, I find him loitering near the machine, sipping from a steaming mug when I walk in.
“Morning,” he greets, lifting his chin.
“Morning,” I mutter back, stepping past him to grab my own cup from the cabinet. I fill it up and take a few sips, then turn to face my old man, ready to rip off the metaphorical band-aid. “I ran into an issue with Griff and Adams last night,” I say blandly, as if I’m talking about something as benign as the weather. “Caught them downstairs with the prisoner.”
“And where are they now?” Dad asks.
“Dead.”
His brows shoot up, though his steady composure remains intact. He takes another sip from his mug as if he’s pausing to collect his thoughts, then swallows thickly, licking the residue from his lips. “What happened?”
This is the part where I could come clean; tell him I’ve allowed myself to be manipulated by our prisoner to the point where I killed for her. He’d be disappointed in me, but he’d respect my honesty. We’d eventually get past it after he came up with a creative way to remind me where my loyalties lie.
The problem is, I know how my dad thinks, and I therefore know exactly how that reminder would play out. He’d send me downstairs to put a bullet in her head.
The thought of that shouldn’t rattle me as much as it does. As soon as we brought her in, I knew she wouldn’t be makingit out of here alive. Dragging on her captivity won’t change the inevitable outcome, and in becoming her handler, I was well aware that I was also signing on to be her executioner when the time came. I thought I could stomach it. I thought it’d feel good to avenge Ben’s death by delivering hers.I’ve never been more fucking wrong.
She should’ve run while she had the chance last night. As I slept on the floor outside her cell, it would’ve been easy for her to reach through the bars and get the keys out of my pocket. Hell, she could’ve wrapped her pretty little hands around my neck and tried to strangle the life out of me. God knows I deserve it. She didn’t, though, and I won’t slip a noose around her neck now by revealing the truth. Ican’t.
“They tried to set her free,” I say, surprised by how easily the lie rolls off my tongue. “She got to them somehow, convinced them to let her go. When confronted, they tried to run, so I put them down.”
Dad nods slowly as he digests my words. “Was that wise?” he questions, his voice eerily calm. “Our numbers are dismal as it is.”
“Would you rather have a few good men you can trust, or an entire army with questionable loyalty?” I ask, repeating a line that I’ve heard him use countless times. I used to argue that we should expand our forces so we could just take out all the werewolves at once and move on with our lives, and he’d counter that it was better to keep our team lean and mean. It may be less efficient, but I have to agree that it’s a hell of a lot easier to travel from place to place and slip by under the radar with less men.
“Why would they turn?” Dad asks, narrowing his eyes on me in suspicion.
I shrug, taking a last sip of my coffee before turning at the waist to set the empty mug down on the counter. “Who knows. Couldn’t risk them compromising the plan, though,” I mumble, drumming my fingertips against the granite.
His gaze drops to follow the movement of my fingers and I immediately realize my mistake, yanking my hand back and shoving it into my pocket. When I glance back up at him, his eyes lock with mine, the skepticism in them evident.
“You’re sure that’s what happened?” he asks, giving me an opening to come clean. “I know you and Griff had your differences.”
“Positive,” I reply. I say it with so much confidence that I damn near convincemyselfthat’s how things went down last night, and it’s more than a little unsettling how I’m able to lie with a straight face to the person I’m supposed to trust the most. To my own flesh and blood.
Who the fuck am I becoming?
Dad heaves a sigh, setting down his coffee mug and pushing off from the counter. “Get a couple of the new recruits to take care of the bodies,” he mutters as he slips his phone out of his pocket. “Better to have them do it, since they only just met those two and don’t have any personal attachment to them.”
I nod, remaining cool and collected on the outside, while inside, an internal battle starts to rage.
“I’ll call the lawyer,” he continues, thumbing through his phone contacts. “Griffin’s Will leaves everything to The Guild, but we should probably get the ball rolling on what we need to do to obtain those assets. Not sure whether Adams had anything worthwhile.”
“He didn’t,” I grumble, recalling him saying as much during the onboarding process. We require soldiers to update their Will before engaging in field combat, and most are so dedicated to the cause that they want to continue to contribute even after they’re gone by leaving their assets to The Guild. Not all of them have assets to speak of, though. Some come with only the clothes on their backs.
Dad nods to me, then hits call on our attorney’s contact,lifting the phone to his ear as he turns away to head for the back patio.
I should be glad that he bought my lie. I should be relieved.
I’m not.
I’m just fucking numb.
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