Page 73 of Hunted

“Yes, Sir.” She shot me a troubled glance then disappeared into the throng of remaining people.

I sighed, looked up at the painted ceiling, praying for strength, then faced Beckett head-on. I stepped around Ethan, knowing my face was cold and my eyes were hard—and that they were skewering the ogre in front of me.

“I take it your name is printed below mine, then.”

The muscles in his jaw worked, chewing on unspoken syllables.

“Actually, all three of ours are,” Evander said, wincing.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I deadpanned.

What the fuck did I do in a past life to deserve this?

“Wish I was,” he muttered. “But for the foreseeable future, you are our asset and we are your handlers. Varco briefed us this morning. Beckett will take point on all future missions, I’m to be in your ears at all times, and Dek will be your eyes, keeping watch from above.

“Varco has big plans for you, Adelaide,” Pearce warned. “And it’s up to us to get you ready for them.”

Beckett cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable for the first time since I’d met him. “First up is a trip to the⁠—”

“Medlab, I know.”

And I did know. How could I forget? How could my mind have possibly omitted the fact that Blackwing considered every possibility and dealt with its assets in a way that prevented all of the predictable fuck-ups.

And how could a Swallow fuck up?

By getting knocked up.

First, Mercy and I—and probably that other girl who glared at me more often than not—would be chauffeured into the sticky, black leather chair—a throne all assigned assassins must pass through on their way to their new life—and present our left wrists for branding.

Tattoos.

We would join the ranks of permanently marked assets—so that any could take one look at the little midnight marking and know immediately what our ranking was and where they stood in the hierarchy.

We could save them the trouble though—Swallows were always bottom tier.

And then… then came the barbaric part.

Mercy and I would be whisked into surgery and put to sleep while the Academy doctors systematically and remorselessly removed our uteruses. This prevented any side effects of a mission gone awry. It negated the need for planning missions around menstruation cycles and ensured the assassin could continue working indefinitely. Until they aged out or died.

I’d never met a Swallow who’d aged out.

And the only Raven I’d heard of who got out without aging out or dying was standing right in front of me, waiting to shepherd me into that very same fate.

“Let’s get this over with then.” I laced the words with venom; with all the conflicting feelings I housed on this unwanted future.

On the one hand, my adenomyosis would no longer be something I had to suffer through, month after month. On the other, I’d be an empty vessel for the Academy to unleash at will.

I was a fucking virgin for Christ’s sake. And now I was being sent into every lion’s den—armed with the tools to slay the beast, but still in range of his claws.

I guess I’d just have to sharpen my own to match.

[ 24 ]

BECK

TORS – WON’T REMEMBER

“Say your goodbyes,” I told her. “You won’t be seeing each other again for a while.”