Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) Rebecca Grey (first e reader txt) 📖

“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath.

“Don’t worry, Nilsa. If you complete your next job you’ll be well on your way to being able to buy the entire establishment if you want.” Joss tosses a crumble of a muffin in his mouth. He hums a laugh behind his closed lips. “Imagine that? You being my boss.” Every chuckle brings my shoulders closer to my earlobes as I tense.

This asshat.

I could easily pick up one of the simple tasks pinned to the bulletin in the living space across the hall. Something like chasing away squatters on someone’s property, or assisting someone disabled with their household chores. Both of those are almost always up for grabs for some quick currency. Those jobs though, quick and easy as they may be, are far below me. The Ghost.

I’d long since given up smaller, meaningless jobs. Now I’m a full-time professional killer. And that would typically pay the bills. If I’d taken that arrogant, thieving, pirates’ life yesterday I’d be in the clear. Marcello, he had called himself.

Without the price on his head I have two choices. Belittle myself, and continue to do so anytime I can’t make rent, or I can change my life. I can commit to taking the deal the big wigs of The Bend are offering. It’s deadly, but I’d never find myself not able to pay for anything again. I’ll never find myself choosing again.

“Have you thought about our little proposition?” Joss wipes his hands on a neatly folded towel hanging from the edge of the sink.

“I have.” It takes everything just to bite the words out.

“And?”

Can I really do this? Do I really think I can pull this off?

Every stupid fiber in my being points to yes. It’s that annoying gut feeling, the one that whispers that I can change my destiny… the one Arron always told me to trust. I look around the room. No one wants me here. I don’t even want to be here. Why stay?

Calliope watches in silence. Her eyes glowing with anger.

I could do it just to spite them. That thought alone fuels me with more motivation than I’ve had in years. Foolish, momentary motivation. I let it carry me away.

“And yes, I think I’ll do it. I’d rather like to be your boss one day,” I answer, returning my attention to his flashing red gaze. That alone should be my warning sign.

As soon as I say it, his maroon eyes narrow. But I’m not sorry for a single word and, hell, he suggested it first. His suit jacket shifts as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the long scroll, the official document, and a pen. It’s clear he’d anticipated my agreement, making the words turn sour on my tongue.

In one way or another, we all sign away our lives on each legal document for every job we take. However, this is much more threatening than any other. In The Oasis Games… I could truly die. So as he unrolls the slender tan pages, my heartbeat stutters. The uptick in anxiety is something he doesn’t miss as he gives me his truly devious grin. This is the business. This is how he makes his living. By playing puppet with the lives of others. I swallow my nerves.

Roughly pushing trays out of the way, he slaps the paper against the counter. The mercenaries behind us have gone silent as they watch with piqued curiosity. Joss rolls the silver pen between his fingers, looking at the document then up at me, as if considering someone else for the briefest second. There are other mercenaries just as good if not better that could do the job well, I’m just the only one willing to kill. Finally he offers me the pen. I take it, still warm from his touch.

With an intentionally ginger touch, he smooths the paper against the countertop. I follow his eyes to where he stares down at the empty black line I’m supposed to sign.

“Name here.” He points.

This pen in my hand feels heavy. Suddenly it’s more than just the device for which I’ll write with and now it’s the sword I could cut my own throat on.

Is there another option? I find myself thinking. The longer I look around the tiny kitchen, at these terrible beasts I live with, and think back on the empty nothing of my room above us, the answer only grows more blatantly obvious.

No. There is not another option. Follow your gut, Nilsa.

Ink glides across the black line. I take my time writing. My name is about the only thing I can write well, it's the only thing I've practiced in a long time. Growing up in The Bend there isn't much schooling, and my training in mercenary work mainly revolves around my physical abilities.

I stare at the contract, wishing I could read the document. Perhaps there is more danger in blindly signing my name away than there is in The Oasis Games themselves.

Turning ever so slightly, I offer the pen back to Joss. His hands leave the scroll and it rolls back up without his weight on the page. Joss puts the pen back into his pocket.

"You've done the right thing, Nilsa," he says, "By all of us."

By who? The mercenaries? This establishment? If I am able to get away with this, my life intact, my riches and my status would hardly be shared with any of these Hybrids. I wouldn't even consider giving them a small donation. I've paid my living fees. They deserve nothing else from me.

The rest of the room eats their breakfast without speaking another word. I have to wonder if they saw the job posted on the bulletin before Joss tore it down. Do they see a dead woman walking? That's all