Page 55 of Green Ravens

He frowned at the meticulously arranged rows of shirts, hoods, and pants in almost every shade of green. From seafoamto lime to juniper. Zorion pulled on a fitted cotton T-shirt and olive-green cargo pants that were, not surprisingly, the perfect fit.

He stared at himself in the full-length mirror, trying to summon a memory, anything. He ran his fingers over the smooth, pale scars that covered most of the right side of his face and neck.

How was I burned? What happened?

“God, why won’t anyone tell me?” he cried in anguish.

The injury looked as if it had healed a while ago, but each line and patch of discolored skin was a story he wanted to hear.

A reflection stared back at him, unfamiliar and quiet. He searched the depths of his green eyes—did he get those eyes from his mother or father?

He continued staring at himself until a knock on the door disrupted his concentration.

Zorion hesitated. He didn’t want company, and he didn’t trust what they had planned next. He made no sound as he stood by the door.

“Your dinner,” a male voice said.

He waited a moment until he heard his retreating steps.

When Zorion heard the elevator close, he opened his door and pulled the cart into the foyer.

He lifted the glistening silver domes and was accosted with the mouthwatering scent of a whole seared fish and fresh vegetables.

He lifted the glass pitcher of water—bypassing the glass goblet—and took long, satisfying gulps. It tasted as if it’d been drawn straight from a spring. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he began to devour his food.

By the time he finished, it was night, yet he could still see the intricate details of his outside oasis.

Despite how luxurious and comfortable his bed appeared, he didn’t want to lie in it. Instead, he walked around the terrace, enjoying the lush grass against his bare feet and allowing the cool night air to wrap around him.

Zorion stretched out on his back and stared up at the dark sky.

Had he always been so mesmerized by the stars?

He stayed that way, watching the slow-moving clouds and the slight glow of the crescent moon, helpless as his mind wandered to places and people he couldn’t remember.

Eventually, the quiet hum of the night lulled him to sleep.

Chief Aiken Oakley

Valor

Valor lay silent in the darkness, his senses hyperaware, his instincts razor-sharp. He was still in awe of the power he’d exhibited during training. It was hours later, and his muscles were still coiled with a readiness to pounce.

What did they do to me? I have to get—

Valor heard pacing steps just outside his door and a low intake of breath before his front door was pushed open.

Whoever it was had a keycard that accessed his quarters—he’d been lied to. He was told no one could enter his “home” without his approval.

He remained silent and unmoving, secluded high in a tree on his terrace.

There were several branches sturdy enough to hold his weight. It was how he’d slept last night and how he preferred tonight’s rest as well. Lying on the wide branch was far more comfortable, and also smart of him.

He could see his intruder, but they couldn’t see him…not unless he wanted them to.

A woman moved guardedly around his space. She was careful but not as silent as she must’ve thought. He watched her. She was trained, moving with caution and stealth.

Valor allowed her to check his bedroom. She gaped when she saw the empty bed.

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