Page 72 of G.O.D.S Omnibus

Brennan steps forward, the negotiator, the voice of reason.

“Creed, why don’t you take her to the bedroom while I get Chester to draw up some painkillers for her. No one needs to get hurt.”

“We already hurt her,” I say mournfully, turning my back on them and getting her somewhere they will leave us alone.

Tucking her into Trace’s bed leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth. She is mine, and I need to keep her safe. If Mr Z knows she has her memories back, she will be hauled up to a lab before we can do anything about it. Running again isn’t an option anymore—we need to fight. I hope the others have a solid plan.

When I realised she wasn’t coming back anytime soon, I disconnected from the world, and asked to be moved to the morgue. Making bodies disappear is my specialty. I like the silence, how still the air is while the lifeless bodies just lay there on metal slabs. It’s funny how no matter how you live your life, we all end up in the same place: naked on a stainless-steel table.

Zircon whimpers, and I run my hand through her hair. I know what I have to do... kill Mr Z. He will be at the gala dinner. It could be in front of everyone for all I care, and then his men can take me down—anything to keep her safe.

Brennan walks into the room and closes the door. His presence calms me—always has—and I curse him for it.

“I need you to give her this,” he says, cautiously walking towards us, holding out a needle. “It’s just something to help her stay calm.”

“We need to kill him,” I state while giving her the injection. She is so out of it, she doesn’t even make a noise.

“We have a plan. Mr Z has pulled back on his urgency to harvest her like a damn lab rat, and he agreed that she can finish high school just like the boys.”

“And why did he agree to that? He doesn’t do anything for nothing.”

“We know that, but rushing in and killing him before we can get our hands on his lawyer doesn’t help any of us. We’re property, Creed, we belong to them. We need to know who gets the business when he dies. Do you seriously believe we can just walk away? And even if we did manage it, we would have to separate and hide for the rest of our lives. Everyone knows now, and we have help keeping her safe.”

“He has known her fucking location for a year—he sent you in. He is up to something, I know it. Fuck the business, fuck what they do to us. If I take him out, she is safe,” I say vehemently.

“No, she isn’t. If he has someone like him take over, they could do worse to her. He still has an emotional connection to her through his wife,” he retorts.

“Fine, have it your way. But we need to have a plan because I don’t trust him.”

“The guys will be sent in; Case can get us what we need. Until now we haven’t had his skills. I love Kai, but he just isn’t as good and hasn’t found a way in yet.”

“Good, bring them up to speed. If Case can get it done, the gala night will see everyone preoccupied.”

“Sounds like we have a plan. You know you will need to let them in this room. She belongs to them; she isn’t ours,” Brennan says, like I don’t already know that.

I hear the words and know they are true, but that doesn’t mean I give a rat’s ass what they want. They have to get through me first.

With every day that passed without her presence, a piece of my humanity vanished, until I was consumed by darkness. Mr Z wanted me out in the field—teams are not his only specialty. His main objective is to create ultimate weapons, teams of weapons. I ran the test zone against his best, but not his most valued, clearly, because none of them walked away alive. Yet in the end, he knew he couldn’t trust me to do what he directed. I’m surprised he didn’t kill me; obedience is high on his list. Maybe it’s because of how valuable I am. Either way, I’m here and no one is touching her.

She is safe while I’m right next to her. I won’t allow anyone to hurt her again.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jolie

The pain feels like I have taken a bullet to my brain, scooped out its contents, and shoved them back inside. A sharp sting to my leg has me gasping.

“Shhh, Tenshi.”

“Creep,” I whisper.

Memories of a boy with obsidian eyes and the smile of a fallen angel fill my mind. I smile, remembering the connection we had. He was my protector, the one who would wipe away my tears when the days were hard and whisper Japanese in my ear to soothe me. I remember calling him Creep and he called me Tenshi—Angel.

My eyes fly open, and it is no boy sitting beside me, but the man has the same eyes and smile. Only now his face has matured, and he has tattoos tracing one side; I want to reach out and ask why he marked his beautiful face. He has also added a nose ring, and a ring fits snug around his plump bottom lip.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Scared, confused, and like I have been hit with a sledgehammer.”

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