Assassin's Mask by Everly Frost

Author:Everly Frost [Frost, Everly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ever Realm Books
Published: 2019-03-10T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Oh… shoot.

I stumble onto the Realm’s pathway before I wrench myself away from Slade, my vision swimming.

I stand clear of him, rising up very slowly, waiting for the world to stop spinning around me. Blood trickles down the inside of my jeans from my chest and thighs. One of the bullets is caught in my right hip, another in my right shoulder, left rib, left thigh…

I stop counting.

The Guardian is as pale as snow, her chest heaving. She stands several paces away, already surrounded by assassins. She points toward me. “I’m fine, but Hunter isn’t.”

I growl at her without forming coherent speech, my responses purely instinctive now. This woman is going to kill me with kindness.

The assassins look to Slade, since I’m now a threat in their midst. The only blessing is that I don’t see Ridley among them. Hopefully he’s out and about somewhere. He’ll try to kill Slade all over again if he thinks this is Slade’s fault.

I sigh.

Then cough.

Okay, that hurt. Lungs. Hurt lungs. The last bullet must have done that. That would explain why I’m dizzy. I close my eyes. I really need to get the bullets out.

I stumble off the pathway, veering to the left as I mumble, “I’m going to the medical ward.” I pause to glare at Slade. “Unless you want to stop me?”

“No.”

I pause to make certain I understood him. “No you won’t stop me? Or no I can’t go?”

He takes my arm and propels me along the lawn. “You know that your clothes are soaked in blood, right?”

I glance down… then wish I hadn’t. No wonder the Guardian looked so shocked. A curse rips out of me that seems to startle Slade more than anything else. I guess I rarely swear.

Despite me being a Rogue Master, every man in our path hurries out of my way instead of challenging me.

It looks like blood-soaked Hunter is a useful spectacle today.

We reach the medical ward within moments and I’m suddenly swarmed by the head doctor and his staff. He’s an older assassin, retired, with olive skin, dark eyes, and a kind manner. He tries to make me lie down on one of the medical beds but I push him away, my protective instincts making me unusually angry. “Get away from me! I don’t need your help. I’m not here because I want to be.”

He gives me a grim look. “Most people don’t choose to be riddled with bullets.”

I grit my teeth, trying to suck in a calming breath but it doesn’t work. It turns out that bullets make me cranky. Really cranky.

I shout at nobody in particular, “Hand me the tools. I can do it myself. Now, get out!”

The doctor looks to Slade.

Slade inclines his head at the door, an equally forbidding expression on his face. When the door closes and we’re finally alone, Slade approaches me like he would a dangerous animal. “Hunter, you can’t do this alone.”

“Watch me, asshole.”

He doesn’t even flinch. Just tips his head in a small acknowledging gesture as if he agrees with me.

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