Page 54 of Rivals & Revenge

"So..." he prompted, tossing the word back to me.

"I—just—How do you know Henri? Do you know all the other hitters?"

He jammed his hands down into his pockets with a laugh. "No. Nothing like that. Henri and I met at a cafe. We were both in the area scoping out hides and perches for a job. Tricky shot. Good money."

Ahren didn't seem to be the nostalgic type, but it was obvious he was remembering the moment fondly.

"Anyway, we were both sitting there having a cuppa. We could both tell what the other was."

I nodded. Snipers had a reputation for hiding in plain sight, for being invisible. But for someone in the trade, we were easy to spot. Like calling to like and all that.

“We had a lovely chat waiting for the rain to let up, then went our separate ways. I settled into my perch, both high enough and far enough away that the target, nor his security detail, would imagine searching for me there. I was lining up my shot when I saw Henri settle into a nice hide along a cliff face with an overhang hiding him from view.”

“A man walked up behind him, most likely from the security detail, and raised a pistol. I changed position and fired without giving it a second thought. Henri looked around, spotting the gunman, and though I doubt he spotted me, he knew who had made the shot. At that point, he was in a better position than I was, so he took the shot.”

"So you saved Henri's life. Why?"

He nodded, steering me closer to the tree line we planned to use for cover as we searched the area. "I don't know. I imagine the same intuition that commanded me to save yours."

"Mmm." I hummed, nowhere near ready to delve into that night in the grove. Still not sure what any of it meant.

"So that's the favor you called in." I stated plainly.

"Yeah. We talked a few times over the years, but I wouldn't call us friends. But there's always been this unspoken debt hanging over us."

"A debt that didn't cover me." I said, hating how small my voice sounded. At this rate, I already owed my entire existence to this man.How much deeper in the hole could I dig myself? He's made it more than clear several times in the last few weeks—he doesn't work for free.

"No. It didn't." He said quietly, not bothering to sugarcoat it. "I know what you're thinking, but that was my deal to make."

I nodded, still not sure I fully understood his reasoning for making such a bargain. Images of perfectly preserved white roses flashed through my mind, my eyes closing as if that would seal away the images.

"How about that one?" I asked, pointing to a brick house covered in deep red climbing vines.

"Mmm." he gave a non-committal hum. "The vines are right, but the building looks too new."

"Oh! What about the older buildings along the river? They are in the map area Jax sent, aren't they?"

"Good idea, those are some of the oldest buildings in all of Black Hills." he answered, a note of surprise lacing his voice.

We cut through the open field, aiming for the river four blocks over, scanning for older buildings along the way. As we walked, we made small talk, something he seemed annoyingly good at; highlighting yet another deficit I had.

Being alone had never bothered me. In fact, I preferred it to time spent with people who would ultimately betray me. Now it seemed my inexperience was showing itself in the most cruel way possible.

I didn't understand what was happening with Ahren, or if the roses meant what I suspected they meant. But I did know whatever this spark was that flared between us—I intended to grab onto it with both hands and relish the burn, no matter where it took me.

"That one is old enough, but there doesn't seem to be much in the way of vines," he murmured, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.

"Mmm yeah," I hummed in agreement.

Weeping willows swayed in the gentle breeze, their long graceful branches sweeping the ground like the hems of ball gowns, dancing at a party we hadn't been invited to. Ahren and I weaved through the sparsely wooded area, dodging the branches as we wended along the riverbank.

The houses in this district were a mixed bag. While some were in pristine condition and screamed old money, others had fallen into disrepair and were mostly abandoned. Aside from aging red brick, they all had one thing in common—huge lots.

The newer parts of Black Hills had houses built damn near on top of each other, while the older parts had sprawling properties.

"There." I said, pointing to the house beyond the one we were coming up on.

I could tell through the trees the next property was well maintained, but the one just beyond its border looked like something out of a dystopian painting.

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