Page 106 of Hunted

Only once he pointed it out did I realise I was indeed shaking like a leaf in a blizzard. The antidote inferno had abated, leaving me with nothing but ice-cold shock. Shock that only compounded once I let myself glance around the bloodstained room. The crimson spatters. The red-soled shoe.

Unable to contain it, I leaned over—mercifully avoiding Deklan’s lap—and retched all over the tiles.

Someone rubbed my back in smooth, slow circles but I waved them off, mortified.

“I’m o-o-k-kay,” I grumbled, teeth chattering as a fresh wave of ice washed over me. “I j-just need t-t-to clean this off.” I gestured down the length of my crimson-painted body.

“You’re not,” Van murmured.

“But you will be,” Dek added with a reassuring nod.

Both men helped me to my feet, supporting my off-kilter steps to the bathroom. Somehow one heel was still on my foot, the other somewhere I didn’t care to retrieve it from.

“First one’s always the hardest,” Dek said.

“I f-fucked up-p-p.”

Dek pulled up short, dragging Van and me to a halt with him, looking… angry?

“You didn’t fuck anything up, Deadly. The Academy did by sending you in so soon.”

“Dek,” Van warned.

Van’s warning made me realise there was a chance Blackwing was already listening. And I didn’t want my handlers to pay for my mistakes.

Beck glared at us from across the room, managing my mess but not letting me out of sight. I couldn’t tell whether it was because he was mad… or scared. I wasn’t sure I was ready to find out, either.

“Adelaide.” Dek’s fingers brushed my cheek, his warm hazel eyes capturing my attention. “We came so close to losing you tonight.” They were so piercing in their sincerity that I couldn’t hold contact for long. “And I would clean up a thousand more of these messes if it means you come home at the end of it.”

Home. I almost laughed. Blackwing would never feel like home to me. But as I stared between the faces of all three of my handlers, I wondered if I could find it somewhere else.

“But we really need to come up with a better codeword than duck.” Van grimaced.

And even though it was the last thing I intended—even though it hurt like a bitch—I giggled.

Dek and Van shared a grin, and Beck… Beck’s face softened at the sound. My heart did a little flip inside my bruising chest.

Not ready to open that can of worms yet, I stumbled over to the bathroom like a drunken giraffe. The boys deposited me into the shower after turning it on and checking the temperature, then stepped out to give me the illusion of privacy even though they’d all seen Marie’s handiwork more than once.

Lewis’ fancy penthouse shower ran over my bleeding, beaten, broken body for several minutes, washing away his blood and my sins until the water ran clear. Before I got out, it occurred to me that I should probably wash away any lingering poison. I grabbed a small washcloth off the bench and scrubbed at my face until it hurt, too. And then I scrubbed it some more for good measure.

I didn’t bother to check my reflection in the fogged-up mirror—had no desire to see the evidence of my mistakes in a cacophony of purple and blue—then, with no other option, pulled the gown back on. At the last second, I also threw Van’s jacket over my shoulders.

I left the solitary heel behind, figuring whoever was coming to clean up the apartment would collect that as well. I did grab the clutch, though.

When I exited the bathroom, it was to a trio of silent, stoic soldiers guarding the door.

Dek threw a careful arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get you home,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“Wait.” I shrugged out of his hold, frowning in the direction of the mess. “That asshole owes me.”

My bare feet padded silently across the warm tiles—typical hotel penthouse having heated tiles. I rounded the couch, faltering at the sight of four very bloody, very dead men.

Hiking up my skirts, I drifted over to where Henry Lewis lay on the floor where I’d left him—my heel still lodged in his eye socket where I’d left it. I wondered if I’d ever be able to look at stilettos the same way as I reached into his jacket, locating the pocket I knew his wallet lived in.

The lying, conniving bastard didn’t even have the ten thousand he’d promised me, but he did have roughly half that sum. I plucked it out and tucked it into my clutch, grateful I’d grabbed it. Dropping his wallet onto his rapidly cooling body, I looked up, surprised to see three amused faces staring back.

“Fucker couldn’t afford me anyway,” I spat, shrugging.