So, I’m going to have fun with Phoenix in Vegas.
Well, as much as a nineteen-year-old girl can have anyway.
Carpe diem!
Chapter Six
HAVEN
Two days at the clubhouse with Nighthawk, and I’m still not entirely sure if I want to hug her or throw her off the roof.
It could go either way at this point.
But she has been helpful, I’ll give her that.
Setting up in one of the spare rooms as if she belongs here, working with Loki on his surveillance systems, even helping Navy organize the bar inventory because, apparently, assassins have fantastic organizational skills.
Who knew?
But there’s still this tension between us that has nothing to do with the fact that she killed Livvy.
It’s more complicated than that.
We are two birds who chose different paths, and now we’re trying to figure out how to fly in the same direction. I’m perched on the sofa in the main area, laptop balanced on my knees, going through intelligence reports when she slides into the seat across from me. Her dark red hair is pulled back in a practical ponytail, and she’s wearing one of the club T-shirts Navy found for her. It should look wrong, a deadly assassin in casual wear, but somehow it fits.
“You know, Blue Jay,” she says, and I bristle slightly at the use of my codename.
Old habits die hard, I guess.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. About trusting each other.”
I look up from my screen, meeting her green eyes. There’s something different there today. Less guarded. “And?”
“And I think we need to stop dancing around each other likewe’re still in The Nest.” She leans forward, elbows on her knees. “We’re not birds anymore. We’re… what exactly?”
“Sisters in chaos?” I suggest dryly, which earns me a genuine laugh.
“I like that better than‘former deadly weapons turned suburban housewives.’”
“Speak for yourself. I’mnowhere nearsuburban.” I gesture around the clubhouse. “This is about as far from a white picket fence as you can get.”
“True.” She pauses, studying my face. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Do you miss it? The simplicity of it all? Someone tells you who to kill, you kill them, mission complete. No morally gray areas, no wondering if you’re making the right choice.”
It’s a question I’ve asked myself more times than I care to admit. “Sometimes,” I admit. “But then I remember what that simplicity cost us. What it cost them.” I nod toward the Chapel stairs, where I hear the muffled voices of the brothers. “We were weapons, Nighthawk. Not people. Here, I get to be both.”
“Cassandra,” she says quietly.
“What?” I furrow my brows in question.
“My name. It’s Cassandra. I’ve been practicing saying it. Cas-san-dra,” she says succinctly with a grin, and for a moment, she looks almost shy. “Weird,right?Twenty years old and just learning my own name.” She puffs out a breath, shaking her head.
“Not weird. Brave.” I close the laptop and give her my full attention. “How does it feel?”
“Like wearing someone else’s clothes. But… I think I could get used to it.”
