Page 12 of Misted

When I continue staring at her hard, she sighs as if thinking ‘stop being a bore’.

“Ink and Poison!” Scar whisper-yells.

My jaw clenches at the mere mention of the fucker’s name.

“The reason why Hades nominated those two is because their disciples are fucking crazy. They’re competing by finishing as many killing contracts as possible. I’m sure Hades promised them that whichever team kills the most will be able to release their mentor. I bet he’s having so much popcorn while watching the game between the two teams.”

“And Mist is Team Ink.” No fucking surprise there. What’s surprising was that she didn’t ask for him to be released instead of me.

Dark rage turns my muscles rigid. The need to hurt covers my vision in red.

“Yup,” Scar says. “She’s actively pulling threads and helping his disciples so he’ll come out.”

That won’t happen.

Her obsession with Ink will be long gone once I’m done with her.

“Want help?” Flame’s detached voice drifts from behind the sofa. I stare at his dispassionate expression with my own.

Flame’s favours usually have a high price, but I won’t exclude him yet.

I lift a shoulder and stand up. He shrugs back and returns to sleep.

Scar stares at me. “Where are you going?”

“A stroll.”

“You better return,” she says in a fake stern tone.

I step out of the office and Le Salon. When the fresh night air hits my face, I breathe in freedom. Confined spaces were never my thing, but after being locked up, they became a fucking nightmare.

My place isn’t on the ground anyway.

I cross the street to a building that’s under construction. In fact, all constructions are paused since I made sure they found fault in its architectural planning. This is the perfect place and height to keep an eye on Le Salon from afar.

I hop the asphalt stairs and head to the roof then I pull out a stone behind which I hid my case. I retrieve my sniper gear and position my silver AWM rifle between the half-built railings so nothing is visible.

The whispers and the ache in my left hand return with a vengeance whenever I hold my sniper rifle. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and forge through.

On Le Salon’s roof, she stands like a proud hyena. She’s always on the roof, probably because it’s prohibited access to everyone else.

Mist’s shorts and tank top stick to her body like a second skin. Her hair is still in that damn knot while she hits a boxing bag dangling from a metal pole.

Kick. Punch. Kick. Kick. Punch.

Her love for Muay Thai kickboxing didn’t change.

Why have one when it can be both?She used to say when she was hellion. My hellion.

But Hellion is gone and so is the fool who held her where he shouldn’t.

All this fucking time, I’ve been watching from afar, waiting for the moment to sneak back into her life.

She wants to save Ink? Well, guess fucking what, Mist? Ink will never come out. I’ll make it my mission that Poison leaves that hell. I owe him one for saving my life a decade ago in a tag sniper operation in the Middle East. I was never distracted enough to miss a shot, but because of her, I almost died a million fucking times.

I stare at her through the lens.

I’m done watching.

Done fucking waiting.

It’s time she pays the price.