Page 51 of An Assassin's Death
He chases me then, like a hound after a fox in a fox hunt. My legs burn and I relish the feeling.
Alive. Alive. Alive.
Each pound of my feet on the dirt path below resounds the rhythm.
Stay. Fucking. Alive.
It’s not that I don’t realize that death is a real possibility for me. I know that I’m disposable. The one worth risking on this ramshackle team. The least important. I’ve never been important to anyone. Until Armond. Until now—I think. Mason and Jameson make me feel that way, but they’re also not stepping up and devising another plan that would keep me out of the line of fire. My own mortality has never felt so real.
Flashes of the past assault me, and I have to remind myself I’m not that small, hungry little girl anymore. I’m not defenseless. I haven’t been defenseless for a long time. I’m not alone anymore, either. I matter, at least in some small way, to the four guys on this team. Mouse and Jameson have been staying by my side every night lately, and I haven’t missed the protective streak in Tylin, even if he doesn’t want me to see it. And Rory, he’s the conundrum I can’t figure out. He hates me, but he also cares enough to give me extra lessons. Maybe he just wants his information. If I die, I can’t report back. They’d lose their biggest asset.
I’m an asset. Another burst of energy spirals through me at that thought. The thick trees give way and my steps are echoing against pavement once more. Fire burns through my lungs but I ignore the stinging pain of it. Tylin’s storming steps pound against the road just behind me. I push myself harder, determined to prove I’m the asset they think I am. The quicker my pace becomes, the quicker his becomes. The mansion I’ve come to call home comes into view, reaching up into the dark, starry sky.
Home sweet suburban home.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him. I push myself a little harder to get an edge on him. A smirk touches my lips as his arm brushes mine.
He’s relentless. But so am I. Up the sidewalk, I run faster. I don’t know why I’m making this into another test, but it definitely is now.
And I. Will. Win.
I’m three feet from the front stairs. I will win. I will win. I will win.
And then his body collides with mine. The burning air is pushed from my lungs as I hit the damp grass with a thud. His body cages me in entirely, his hard chest skimming against my shirt, strong forearms hold him above me.
That glinting look is in his depthless eyes as he smiles down on me. An ache forms in my chest that has nothing to do with our run and everything to do with Tylin.
I love when he smiles.
“I’d never let you win that easily.”
My eyes narrow on him, but instead of snapping out a retort, all I can do is breathe hard. My chest heaves against his as we stare at one another. My palms settle against his upper arms, my fingers skimming against his damp muscle tone.
They don’t say it. No one says it, but Tylin is the leader in all of this. He actually tried to kill Armond. The most I know about him isn’t from what he’s told me, but from what I’ve researched about him. The swirling name that’s inked across his forearm wasn’t in his file. Who was the woman who stole his heart enough for him to brand her name across his skin?
She must have been beautiful. Perfect. Not at all a fuck up like myself.
Not that he’ll ever tell me.
He’s almost let me in. I’m almost a part of the team, but he’ll never trust me the way he trusts them. I swallow hard, wishing I knew the key to true friendship, wishing I had even a small amount of experience in that department.
His head dips low for only an instant before he shoves off the ground. The dark sky surrounds him, the sliver of moon gives little light to his shadowy features. His height is intimidating as he stands above me. Slowly, he extends his hand to me. Camilla’s name is pointed right at me as he offers to help me up. His palm is warm against my touch and when I stand, we’re chest to chest again, his palms pushing against his lean hips in a look of total confidence.
“Did you love her?” My mouth snaps shut and I wish like fuck I hadn’t just asked him that.
My eyes close slowly when a look of confusion settles into his gaze.
“Yeah, I loved her.” His confession is so simple it makes my lungs hurt when I breathe in a slow breath to calm my heart.
I don’t know why it hurts. Maybe because I’ll never know what that feels like; a consuming sort of feeling that makes us do stupid, reckless things. Like tattoo ‘Camilla’ in big, taunting letters across our skin.
“Camilla was my mother, Alexa.”
My lashes flutter, and when they open, he seems closer; not touching, but close enough to see every changing emotion within his eyes.
“She had cancer when I was in high school.” He pauses and there’s a quiet sound of a memory within his voice but the sadness is long gone. He’s entirely factual right now. Until his emotions break through. “I complained so much when I was younger about those stupid dance classes.” Regret is in his gaze as he looks out at the street lights, capturing the shine of them in his gray eyes.
My palm pushes over the back of his hand and he leans into that small touch.
