Darling Wildfire (Red Rabbit #2)

38

NYX

“Well, that was…interesting,” I said.

“That’s one way to describe it,”

Atlas muttered.

We were stitched up, showered, and now I was exhausted. I threw myself into an armchair and swiped a bottle of water, draining it in one go. North was sitting in sweatpants, reclined on the couch with his arms across the back. Atlas sat next to him, looking over the food that had been waiting for us when we got back. He didn’t seem to have any qualms about eating after what we’d just done whereas I needed a minute to decompress before I even thought about consuming anything other than water. Preacher was staring out the windows, arms folded across his bare chest. I could see his scowl reflected in the glass.

“Preach, come sit down or something, you’re making me nervous,” I said.

He was still wound so tightly and something about him was on edge. I didn’t like it. He turned and walked over but his scowl didn’t leave his face. He looked at the food then fixed on North.

“That was a fucking disaster,”

he snapped. “What the hell were you thinking killing Vyper?”

Ah. There’s the problem.

North looked up at him calmly. “He was a liability. That man would have cost us the game or more importantly our lives.”

“So you’re just going to off anyone you deem a liability? If they’re not good enough for you, what, you’re just going to put a bullet in them?”

“Preach, come on,”

I said. “You were with him the most. You can’t tell me you trusted him…”

Preacher didn’t even look at me, still glaring fiercely at North who didn’t break eye contact.

“Yeah, I know but that’s not the point. There needs to be some sort of structure or we’ll descend into chaos and we’ll just all be killing whoever we want, whenever we want.”

“That’s a very cop thing to say,”

I chuckled, and he shot me a glare.

“Don’t bring that into it,”

he snapped. “I think I handled myself just fine out there with all you jarheads.”

“That’s a marine—”

“I don’t fucking care,”

he hissed.

“Is that what you’re worried about?”

North asked. “That I’ll kill you?”

“You’re welcome to try,”

Preacher growled. “Many have.”

North looked amused but shook his head. “I would agree with you—from what I saw you handled yourself out there—”

“So what, I have nothing to worry about?”

That seemed to make him angrier, and he scoffed and looked away.

“We’re not going to just go around killing teammates,”

Atlas grumbled.

“You can’t guarantee that,”

Preacher said. “Your friend here is unpredictable—that’s just as bad as Vyper in my opinion.”

Atlas and I were right in our assessment of him in the beginning—North was a force in the field—a true team guy. An absolute lethal soldier who anticipated, planned and executed with ruthlessness and precision. I didn’t see him as unpredictable—in fact, he was the opposite. Unlike his usual closed off self, I found I could clearly read him in the field and work off of him so we were in sync—a flow state I craved during missions because of the way I could perfectly combine my instincts with orders so I could operate at my personal peak performance. Like a good leader, North quickly learned my personal idiosyncrasies and made them work for him. He did the same thing with Atlas, working us quickly into a well-oiled machine.

“Sit down, Preacher,”

North said.

Preacher hesitated, but I watched North’s eyes sharpen, I knew a test when I saw one. When he still didn’t move, North’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t blink. Instead, I saw Preacher try to match him but North’s entire energy radiated fuck with me and find out. Finally, with a low growl in his throat, Preacher sank into the other armchair. North leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs as he looked at Preacher.

“I want you to understand something,”

he said. “Men like Vyper are the first ones to get themselves killed in the field. I’d love to interview his teammates and I bet you they’d have similar experiences with him like we had today. But that’s not why I killed him—I killed Vyper because all he cared about was winning the game. All I care about is getting myself and my team—”

He stressed my team and gestured to Atlas and I. “—home alive. He only cared about himself and getting the glory of being the one to win it. I don’t want that kind of man at my back. It’s not about skill—we can deal with someone who doesn’t know everything or doesn’t execute perfectly. I can’t deal with selfish bastards who have no regard for the man standing next to him.”

He leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee.

“Good teams—the teams that really excel and get everyone out alive—they assimilate, they work to capitalize on the individual to achieve cohesiveness. They work off everyone’s strengths and fill in the weaknesses. Vyper was not capable of doing that.”

As North was talking, Preacher was slowly losing his scowl. He couldn’t deny North had a point and while the cop in Preacher probably would always despise taking the rules into our own hands, he was logical and could see the appeal, and the necessity, of what North spoke about.

“I can’t promise I won’t kill someone like that again,”

he said dryly. “But I can promise that I will do everything in my power to get myself and the people around me out alive. Because, Preacher, this is all a means to an end. I want to survive so I can get out of here and make Vetticus regret ever even knowing my name. Is it a game? Sure. But survival is more important and when it comes to that, we play by our rules.”

Preacher was silent, regarding North with less of a scowl and more like he was trying to decide something. After a breath, he nodded once and sat back in the chair.

“Alright,”

he said begrudgingly. “My trust has to be earned and I can’t say after today I’m there yet…”

“I expect nothing less,”

North said.

A commotion near the door had all our heads turning in that direction as a guard entered dragging the woman from the game behind him. She was now clean and instead of red paint she was wearing a red bra and panty set. She looked young and in shock but her eyes were glassy, making me think she might also be drugged.

“Reward for winning today,”

the guard said before dropping the girl in the middle of the room.

No one spoke. We all stared at the girl who was kneeling on the rug and trembling. I sighed and ran a hand over my face.

“This is fucked up,”

I muttered as I stood up. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

I watched her eyes jump to me and trail warily over my naked chest as though I was going to jump her at any second.

“Lana,”

she murmured just loud enough to be heard.

She pushed a brown curl off her face and wrapped her arms around herself, goosebumps breaking out over her skin. I walked over to my bed and picked up my sweatshirt and handed it to her. She looked up at me, the fear so potent I could feel it coming off her in waves, but she slowly took the sweatshirt from me and put it on.

“What does he expect us to do with her?”

Preacher demanded.

“I’m your—you know—reward,”

she said quietly.

“You mean—does he expect us to fuck you?”

Preacher asked incredulously.

Lana nodded, her lip trembling as she looked up at me again.

“Jesus—”

I muttered. I ran a hand through my hair and looked over my shoulder at the others.

“The winning team gets me for the night,”

she murmured.