Black and Brown: Raven Assassins (Ravens #1)

Chapter Ten

Mirage

After several charged minutes, Mr. Fancy Suit, who’d only introduced himself as Director thus far, began to speak.

“Mirage, it’s nice to see you again. You’re looking quite healthy. I want to introduce you to Spectre, your handler.”

“‘Handler,’” Mirage repeated, not realizing he was frowning. “Sounds like a glorified babysitter.”

The suit looked annoyed.

“Spectre orchestrates your every move in the field.”

“Every move?”

“Precisely. Even though you still have several months of training left…it’s time you all begin to bond and trust each other.”

“‘Bond,’” Mirage murmured.

He was a manufactured, emotionless assassin. How was he supposed to bond with anyone?

“Yes. He’s responsible for the intelligence you receive and provides your logistic support. On your missions, Spectre’s decisions will be the difference between success and failure, life and death. His role is pivotal, trust me.”

“Sounds important.”

“The word ‘important’ is an extreme minimalization description for my job,” the handler scoffed.

Mr. Director continued his sermon. “He’s more than important, Mirage. He’s the lifeline when you’re in the trenches, and his decisions have to be fault-proof.”

Mirage wondered why the man at the window had yet to turn around or say a word.

Maybe he’d already heard the spiel.

“Your relationship will be a fine balance of trust and communication.”

The director opened and reached inside a metal briefcase on the table, removing three clear earpieces.

“You need to start getting used to your handler’s voice because it’ll be in your ear from this point on.”

Mirage rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been told I have a nice voice,” Spectre added as if he’d read Mirage’s mind.

Mirage shrugged. He supposed Spectre’s voice wasn’t too hard on the ears. It had a rich timbre, warm and deep, with a smooth cadence.

“It’s not bad,” Mirage droned.

“So glad you approve. I assume I’m done here, sir,” Spectre told the director.

He closed his folders, stood, and headed toward the door, issuing an order before he left.

“I’ll see you both in the east training facility at oh seven hundred sharp.”

Mirage ignored that and nodded toward the soundless man’s back. “And him?”

“‘Him’ is your partner, Mirage. Code name: Grace. Appropriately named for not only his elegance but his silent modesty. He’s one of the most decorated snipers in the Marine Corps Special Forces.”

The director smiled as if he were proud of who he’d recruited.

“Don’t be fooled by Grace’s calm exterior. He operates with lethal ferocity. Even before his enhancements, his abilities far surpassed that of any soldier.”

Mirage liked what he was hearing as he stared at his new partner’s strong back.

“During his field training, his fluidity and precision were mesmerizing…graceful.”

It took a moment, but Grace inched his hood back and slowly turned around, as if he lived for dramatic effect, and leveled his penetrating gaze on him.

Mirage almost choked on his next breath.

He’d never seen such rich brown eyes on a man. They appeared to shimmer with hints of amber and gold from the natural light shining through the window.

Mirage felt the same stimulation he’d had when he’d passed the silent room.

The electrifying energy made him gravitate closer.

He hadn’t expected that man to look like this .

Grace was a couple of inches taller than Mirage, with broad shoulders that made his trench appear specifically designed for his physique.

The thick ivory ribbed turtleneck did nothing to conceal the definition of Grace’s chiseled pecs.

Mirage should’ve never altered his serum dosages.

It was dangerous and forbidden to have such strong reactions that he now had to work harder to conceal.

Grace didn’t scan his body like Mirage had done him. Instead, he looked him right in his eyes with that intoxicating gaze and acknowledged him with a single nod.

Graceful indeed.