Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
My sexuality was only one of the things my father hated about me, but it was one I loved to rub in his face. Maybe I’d go see how many men I could fuck at the club he owned before I reported in about my kill.
2
RHYS
Undisclosed Military Location
“Be careful.” Grant’s stern look made me angry, but it also pierced right into my heart. He was barely holding it together. Our unit had been through a hell of a day, and he’d gotten his ass chewed out by his superiors. Grant expected perfection from himself. He’d been like that ever since our shitty dad had brought his two families together when my twin brother and I were ten years old.
Grant was already stressed and angry with himself, and now he would spend the rest of the day worried about me taking on a solo scouting mission.
“You know I’m going to be fine.” He didn’t, and neither did I. I was fucking terrified. I shouldn’t be heading out without a partner, but our platoon had no one to spare. Grant didn’t need any more stress, so I muttered more reassuring bullshit and left just like any other marine would have. It had been hard as hell to get assigned to Grant’s platoon. I couldn’t linger long enough for him to consider pulling me from the mission. The last thing either of us needed was someone thinking he was showing me favoritism.
I’d learned to carefully observe my surroundings from the time I was a toddler. Watching out for trouble was a survival instinct, and my twin, Riley, better known as Rogue, wouldn’t have survived to adulthood if I hadn’t been aware of every move our father made. Even once Grant became our protector, I’d still made it my job to keep Rogue safe. He was the wild twin, the impulsive one, and I was serious and calm. I played by the rules as much as I could while Rogue made his own rules or came up with ways—no matter how dangerous—to circumvent the rules our father gave us.
Gathering information about our surroundings and the people we interacted with was what I did best, next to raising horses. It was the only way to stay healthy and whole in the shitty circumstances we’d been born into. I was always on alert whether to the footsteps of an alcoholic father who was in debt to the mob or the nearly silent movements of an enemy soldier who’d think nothing of putting a bullet through my head.
I made my way around the perimeter of the village we needed intel on, taking in every detail of their defenses.
I heard a subtle indication of movement, a faint crunch, then a rustle. It didn’t sound like an animal, so I crouched down behind a tree. I was way too close to the entrance of our enemies’ camp for my liking, but moving would almost certainly give me away.
I listened, holding my breath. Footsteps. Someone was coming my way. Had they heard me, or were they just headed out of camp to take a piss or have a smoke? It wasn’t the regular patrol; they had already passed by.
I risked a quick glance, wanting to know who I was up against. I recognized the man. I’d seen him before our allies were pushed out of the village. He’d been helping injured villagers, bringing them water and cleaning their wounds. I didn’t want to have to kill him.
I stayed perfectly still as he moved closer.
“I know you’re out there,” he called. “Stand up and put your hands in the air.”
Fuck. I’d really hoped he’d just been out there for a smoke.
I fired—a perfect shot through the center of his forehead. He collapsed, probably dead before he hit the ground.
I took a breath and tried not to hate myself. The man had only been doing his job, same as me, but if I hadn’t taken him out first, he would have either shot me or taking me to be interrogated and then killed.
I felt my phone buzz, but I waited until I’d reached my vehicle to pull it from my pants. The screen showed a text from my twin. He’d won and made good money too. I was proud of him even if I hated him risking his life on the back of a bull. I missed him so badly it hurt.
I knew right then I wanted out of the marines. I was damn good at what I did, but I never meant to be a killer. That was the last thing I wanted after growing up the way I had. I wanted to go back home and work with horses. The time I spent working on the farm where my father had been an overseer was the only time I’d truly felt alive, like I was doing more than just surviving. I wanted that again. I wanted a chance to forget all the hell I’d seen.