And when she’d kicked the blanket off, I zoomed in on her bare pussy while she played with herself––fuck, even now it gets me hard.
Tomorrow I’ll speak to Leo and reassure him I’m coming home soon. It won’t always be like this. Our lives are going to change for the better.
Communication, even over the phone, is better than thinking I’ve abandoned them or met my match.
For the time being, I’m in charge of The Covenant, twenty-four fucking seven.
They all know who I am. Each trainee received a classified invitation to be part of a covert operation and met with me on a clifftop as their answer.
No aspiring hitman would turn down an opportunity like this. With limitless funds and cartel backing, it’s a unique opportunity.
Luckily for them, they’d all agreed to serve—leave their lives behind and train beside soldiers who have no names other than the markings on their face coverings. The only other option was meeting the rocks after a steep drop into the ocean.
There’s no turning back, not from this.
The Covenant belongs tome. But with one minor complication—Carlos and his people. And that makes it even harder to slip away.
It’s too much of a risk to go home. I don’t trust the criminals fighting each other on the screens before me. Not until they’ve proven themselves trustworthy. I won’t leave breadcrumbs leading to Blackwater’s front door, or hint at how close my family is to the caves.
This way, I’m only a short drive away when Blanco reveals his true intentions.
This setup isn’t ideal. Especially since they’re residing in my safehouse when I’d rather be at home with my family.
If Papá had taught me anything, it’s that patience is its own reward. When I’m finished training The Covenant, there won’t be any doubt who their true leader is.
I drag a hand down my face and glance at the Souza ring on my finger. There’s no getting away from it. My brothers and I arehislegacy. We were his monsters—until we grew into men who befriended our own demons.
Nevertheless, I don’t wear the Souza bloodstone because I earned it or because I’d felt a sliver of his pride when he’d gifted it to me. I leave it on to stand beside my brothers. The men I respect and the family I’d die for.
We’re the next generation of Souzas. And my father’s dreams are not mine. They’re buried in his tomb with him for an eternity of unfulfilment.
I drop the phone and tell myself I’ll message India tonight when I’m alone in my private quarters. Only once I have time to focus on her and nothing else.
Studying the night vision footage, I watch a couple of competitive skirmishes and make a note of who comes out on top.
On the middle right screen, a fight is dominated by two soldiers, while another holds back to assess the battle. I lean closer, frowning at the scrappy fighter, who appears to be dressed in civilian clothes. There’s no stitched pseudonym on a face scarf, or even a pair of goggles. Only a hood pulled up over their head and a motherfucking lit up phone screen in their fist.
I bolt upright, the backs of my knees shoving the chair behind me and tap on the keyboard to bring up the footage on a bigger screen. There’s something familiar about those nimble leg attacks and energetic scissor sweeps. How the interloper fearlessly grapples and wrestles their opponent.
My scalp prickles and my pulse thrums. After a few seconds of martial combat, the soldier with a spider on his balaclava gets the advantage, pins his opposition to the ground, and yanks at the hood.
Instantly, I zoom in on the image and freeze.
Jesus fuck, he’s fighting India.
11
INDIA
The satellite phone hits the ground and pale light arcs around us, highlighting the outline of a vicious spider motif looming over me.
“Get the fuck off me!” I buck my hips and lash out at the soldier bearing down on my pelvis, his knees at either side of my hips.
“What the hell is going on?” He stalls my punch with his large palm and twists my arm before yanking at the hood. “Where’s your pseudonym?”
While I continue to wrestle with him, the second soldier who had paused on the sidelines moves in and yanks him off me. I’m on my feet in a flash, hurriedly sweeping away loose strands of hair caught in my mouth and dragging the hood up again.
Spider spins around and lunges at me. I dip backward so he misses, but when I try to balance, his knuckles clip my chin. Molten pain spreads through my jaw and I taste blood in my mouth.
