‘He’s not a pet,’ Christian retorts and I jump out of his arms to sit on the kitchen counter and meow my greeting.
‘And Dahlia can try but she’d have to catch him first,’ Christian continues with a smile, ‘He’s a slippery one.’
‘Get it off the table, before I shoot it,’ Max’s voice is soft from the corner of the kitchen but his scowl is fierce. I meow again and jump off the table to sit in the chair and the room turns quiet.
‘Hold up, did he just fucking listen to you?’ Mitch watches me with wide eyes.
‘He’s a great listener too,’ Christian looks ridiculously pleased with himself, ‘he saved my life today.’
‘You’re joking,’ Mitch deadpans.
Three shots pierce the air. Max’s weapon is drawn before the rest of the team can blink, but I already anticipated them. I leap off the chair to avoid the shots, somersault in the air and land on Max’s shoulder.
His gun clatters to the floor as he jumps up with new horror, waving hysterically, ‘Get it off me, get it off me—!’
I jump down to leave him be for now, returning to Christian’s side and jumping onto his shoulder instead. I walk to his other side, brushing against his neck with a small purr, and he barks a laugh before turning his head to pet the spot between my ears.
‘You’re an amazing little guy, aren’t you? I know exactly what to call you.’
There’s that smile again, lighting up my suddenly bright world—a world that’d been dark for exactly 824 days.
‘Beau.’
The memory shatters again, replaced with cold emptiness.
For me, there will never be another home like Christian.
There will never be another home like the Adler Squad.
The door swings open and a vaguely familiar man with dark eyes enters the room with a big grin, “Ah. My brand-new traitor-killer’s awake.”
‘Brand new’ doesn’t sound accurate.
My brows furrow. I recognize him from that night, inside the office with Dahlia, but now that I’m no longer bleeding out, I can focus a lot more clearly, a tall man with enchanting and slanted black eyes. His wavy black hair carries anatural, unruly tousle, pulled back into a messy bun, but the sides are shaved and strands of his long hair fall at the sides of his cheeks, framing a handsome face.
A black jacket hangs over broad shoulders and a white turtleneck hugs his chest, tucked under a black belt and baggy pants. His presence seems to shrink everything in the room, an unspoken confidence in his every movement that would make normal humans look twice, but a strange energy clings to him. A chaotic mass that triggers strange instincts and makes his supposedly relaxed smile appear absolutely frightening.
If Christian was the sun, then this man would be complete darkness.
I watch him cautiously, “You are—”
“Reuben Taiga,” he finishes for me, stopping by Dahlia’s side but I don’t allow my surprise to show, my only tell is an instinctive crease in my brows.
“One of the Don’s sons,” I guess accurately from memories of talks with the Adler Squad.
“His third son,” he tilts his head to the side, studying me. “Not as important as the others, but still a pretty hefty title.”
I can imagine.
“Don’t listen to him,” Dahlia taps his stomach with the back of her hand. “He’s practically the Don’s favourite.”
“It’s not good to lie to your subordinates, Dahl.”
“The rest of the family agrees with me.”
Reuben snorts and I force myself to sit up taller, “You came to make sure we didn't… botch the mission.” James Cavalier—my favourite character from ‘Syndicate’—helps me find the right words this time, but Reuben only chuckles. The sound of it… distracts me, momentarily. It’s brighter than I thought it would be. Surprisingly… pleasant instead of frightening.
“‘Botch the mission’ is a strange way of putting it,” the amusement in his eyes makes me huff through my nose, “but yes. I was sent to make sure you didn’t fuck it up.”
