Page 25 of Misted
After he was released from The Pit, all I wanted him to do was to disappear into one of his Middle Eastern operations again. We’ll meet once a year when Ghost reunites all Team Zero members.
That’s enough for me.
Now that he plans to help Poison out on the extent of Ink's freedom, I can't just let him fly back to the Middle East.
I breathe out a long sigh. I don’t know what to do.
“Do you want a favour?” Flame’s sleepy face peeks from behind the sofa. His dark ginger hair and beard are dishevelled, but his pale blue eyes, the colour of half-cloudy sky, gleam with mischievousness.
Give it to Flame to jump all over any opportunity to make us indebted to him.
I smile without humour. “I’m at the point where I’d sell my soul to a devil like you, Flame. But I’m afraid that even you don’t have a solution for this madness.”
He jumps over the sofa, all sleep washing away from his face. Then he hops and sits on the edge of the desk. “Try me. You know devils have lots of tricks up their sleeves.”
I prop my elbows on the table and lean my head against my relaxed fist. “They must really miss you in hell.”
His flashes me one of his rare, wide grins. “I’m sure they do.”
I shake my head. “You’re hopeless.”
“Just like Hawk?”
I thin my lips. Why does everyone need to shove him down my throat? I've been all consumed by him this couple of weeks without anyone's interference.
When I say nothing, Flame throws all my organised paperwork around just because chaos is his thing. “I’m curious about what happened fifteen years ago. One day, you were disgustingly all over each other, and the next you were at each other’s throats. Not to mention the ‘you don't exist’ stunt you’ve been pulling on each other since then. I’m willing to do you a favour for free if you tell me the story.”
I laugh despite myself. That's some commitment if he doesn't plan to ask for a favour in return. “Since when do you like stories?”
He lifts one ginger eyebrow. “Since they sound kinky.”
“They’re far from that.” I stare at my phone again. “They’re tragic.”
“Never mind then.” He hops down from the desk and throws over his shoulder. “But don’t make Hawk hate you, he might and will hurt you.”
Already done.
“He has lots of crazy underneath that silence,” Flame continues. “Especially after torture at The Pit fucked up his mind.”
I straighten, my breathing deepening. “What do you mean?”
“He’s not the same. Something happened to him in there and he’s hiding it well, but I'll find out like I always do. Let me know if you need that favour.”
“Yes. Keep me updated about whatever you find.”
“Copy that.”
My head falls against my fist again. Sure Hawk appears more different than ever, but what the hell happened to him in The Pit?
The door barges open before I can probe Flame for more.
Shadow storms inside, his shoulders squared and his tiger sleeve tattoos snarling. It's like he's bulldozing into the ring for a fight. Scar saunters behind him in pastel green shorts and flip-flops. Her T-shirt today reads ‘I eat Demons for Breakfast.’
Shadow’s murderous expression meets mine. “What the hell were you thinking, old hag?”
I stand and cross my arms. I’m in no mood to bicker with Shadow.
Flame remains standing, too with a hand in his jeans’ pocket. He sure loves the drama.