There was something different about him—maybe it was the way he walked, with a sort of confidence that couldn’t be ignored. He didn’t stop until he was close enough to lean against the chair she sat in.
There was a touch of a smile on his lips as he asked, “Would you like a gift?”
Sometimes, Kit said things that caught her off guard, but she was generally able to find an answer. This time, he’d stumped her. “Sorry?”
“A gift—would you like one? I can’t imagine you’ve had many over the last three years. If you’d like, you can consider it an early birthday present.”
“Thanks, but why are you giving me a gift.”
He had a gentle expression as he said, “I could say it has something to do with your training, but that wouldn’t be entirely true, would it? My motives are completely selfish.”
Luna almost laughed. “Kit, you’re not making any sense.”
“Then let me show you.”
He offered her his hand, palm side up.
Kit didn’t force her to take it, nor did he ask her to, merely stood there and waited as though he knew the inevitable.
After the briefest of hesitations where she wondered just what kind of gift he had for her, she took his hand.
Luna stayed a couple steps behind him even as she kept hold of his hand, following him out of the library and down two flights of stairs until they were walking alongside the pool towards a hidden archway that she hadn’t noticed until now.
The temperature had seemed to drop during their journey down, but she didn’t complain, nor did she question what was happening.
There were a set of doors at the end of the hallway, heavy metal with a handle like that of a bank vault. There was even a magnetic keypad to the right of it that Kit had to lay his hand on before gears shifted, and the door started opening itself.
It wasn’t until the gap grew bigger, the muscles in his arm straining as he pushed the heavy metal open that she could hear the muffled screams coming from inside.
Not just from one she realized the further she stepped into the room, but seven.
Seven men.
And their faces … she didn’t think she could ever forget their faces.
Now, their expressions were more subdued, sweat dotting their brows as terror reflected in their gazes.
Oh no, she could never forget those faces.
The way they used to smile and jeer, their excitement freely visible when Lawrence gave them permission to abuse her in any way they saw fit.
How eager they had been at the proposition of taking someone against their will.
Now, that excitement and joy and enthusiasm was gone, replaced with fear the likes of which she had never experienced first hand.
And all that fear was because of Kit.
She could tell from the way they cowered when he entered the room, whimpers muffled behind cloth gags tied around their mouths.
Luna tried to muster up sympathy for them, but she felt none.
Their wrists and ankles were zip-tied, the hardened plastic digging so hard into their flesh that she could see chafed and bleeding skin as they struggled on the floor in an attempt to get free.
Though she came to a stop in the middle of the room, Kit still moved on around her, first closing the door until the metal lock clicked into place, then eased across the room with all the grace of a predator.
Of course he wouldn’t be bothered by the sight of the helpless men—he’d put them there—but there was something rather transfixing about the way he moved about as though the stench of their terror wasn’t permeating the air.
Kit was in his element.
His hands dropped to the hem of his shirt, fingers dragging up the material until he was pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, the muscles in his back flexing with the movement.
In the low light of the room, she could now see the dark ink of the tattoo that covered the entirety of his back.
Wings.
They were massive, so big that some of the feathers extended over his shoulders, and down the backs of his arms stopping just above his elbows. They were incredibly detailed, almost lifelike, from the shading to the way the feathers laid as if in movement. But what made them different from anything she had ever seen was the detail of the smoke, as though those wings were on fire.
They were magnificent.
A phoenix.
It wasn’t just a name for him—it was who he was.
“They’ll all die tonight,” Kit said as he jerked the slide back on the gun in his hand, “but how they die is entirely up to you.”
Luna didn’t know what to say, or even what to think as she glanced behind her at the Wild Bunch who stood idle against the back wall, wondering if this was a regular thing for them.
Bizarrely, Fang offered a thumbs up.
“The choice is yours.”
Even as she turned back, staring down at men that had done the worst things to her, her mouth wouldn’t work.
“Don’t feel sympathy for those that don’t deserve it,” Kit said. “They didn’t.”
No, they hadn’t.