Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
A low scoff came from the black section. “We got ourselves a saint.”
Jo ignored them. “And as I said, no one will force you to. But if you and Scar learn to operate together”—her eyes gaze flicked between them—“you won’t have to.”
Roz grunted under his breath.
“Roz, I know you and Scar have bad blood.” Jo pointed at the frozen image on the screen. “But what you’ve just seen—what’s happening in the world—is bigger than your pride, ego, and petty feuds. You’ve spent your lives tearing shit down. This is your chance to build something up.”
Scar felt chastised, and by the downward cast of Roz’s eyes, it appeared he did too.
“Roz, you’ll begin training on assimilations with Corvo. Gage, you’ll start by working with Dr. Blackwell first, learning to take control of your vision impairment.” A slow grin curved Jo’s pink lips. “Scar…at his demand, you’ll be training exclusively with Meridian.”
Hisses and muted laughs echoed around the room.
What the hell is that about?
“Scar, Gage, rely on your brothers and learn fast. We don’t have the luxury of time. The world needs you.” And with that, Jo turned and left the room with her entourage.
Gage stood, and Roz immediately stepped in, offering him his arm. Gage took it without hesitation.
“I think that should be your code name,” Roz said, leading Gage away. “Saint sounds pretty badass.”
Gage’s laugh was soft.
Scar had to force himself not to go after Gage, feeling as if they had important shit to discuss that couldn’t wait.
And damnit, he liked that codename too. It fit.
Gage had just cleared the threshold before the room darkened, and a chill settled over him.
He turned and came face to face with the man in black. Tall. Broad-shouldered with unreadable midnight eyes.
He was a nightmare come to life.
The man’s partner—who’d been introduced as Ex—stepped into Meridian’s space, and the dark killer’s gaze lowered to him, fierce and molten before it softened just enough for him to lean in and press a kiss to Ex’s mouth.
It was chaste but still hot as hell.
What the—
“Go get dressed and meet me in the garage in thirty minutes,” Meridian said casually, as if he hadn’t just blown Scar’s mind. “Don’t make me wait a minute longer.”
He glanced down at his hole-free jeans and clean, white hoodie.
“I am dressed.”
Meridian glared, but didn’t repeat himself, before he turned and walked away.
Scar watched people clear out of his path as if they didn’t want to be the reason he stopped.
Scar hesitated for half a second before he went to find the weird guy responsible for his wardrobe.
White Ravens
Gage
Roz led Gage to the medical wing.
“You good?” he whispered near his ear.
“I’m fine.”
Roz made that familiar sound when he knew he was lying.
Gage chuckled, “I’m just focused, okay.”
“M’kay.”
“I want to do good,” he said, surprising himself. “Not what I thought was good when I was sixteen and my dad took me to nursing homes to host Bible study, or my weekly Meals on Wheels duty. I want to help save nations, Roz.”
Roz didn’t laugh or tease him.
“I always believed there was a greater purpose for my life. But I was stupid, and made a grave, impatient, egotistical mistake.”
A surge of gratitude filled his spirit.
“Now, I’ve been given a second chance to fulfill that purpose.”
Roz slowed a fraction. “You really think you can partner with Scar?”
Gage didn’t answer right away. The question had merit. Not just because Scar was Scar. But because Gage could still feel the imprint of Scar’s hand when he was half-sedated and clutching onto him in the medical wing.
“I’ve never had a problem with Scar,” he said.
Roz’s laugh lacked humor. “Well, he damn sure had a problem with you.”
Yeah, he had all that aggression and heat, but never once acted on it.
They reached a set of doors that opened with a hydraulic whisper and a melodic chime sounded when they walked inside.
Roz inched closer to him.
“Gage. Mateo. Good evening.”
Dr. Aliyah Rockwell didn’t sound like the average stiff lab coat. Her voice was competence wrapped in reassurance.
The closer she got, the more her clean botanical scent overrode the stench of antiseptics.
“Good evening, Dr. Rockwell,” he said, forcing a halfhearted smile.
“Dr. Rockwell.” Roz’s greeting sounded more like an accusation.
“Still overprotective and untrusting, I see. Good. I like that in a handler,” she noted before moving on. “Gage, Jo tasked me with compiling the best specialists from all over the world, and I believe the team we’ve assembled here will exceed all your expectations.”
Dr. Rockwell began to introduce everyone.
“This is Dr. Sanja Mehta, neuro-ophthalmology,” she said.
“Good to meet you,” a male voice responded, easy and sure.
“Dr. Lucia Bennett, retinal imaging and ocular trauma.”
“Good evening.”
“Dr. Jonah Pierce, low-vision rehabilitation.”
“A pleasure.” His tone was so deep it was startling.
“And Dr. Keira Womack will be teaching you Braille. She has a PhD in special education with a specialization in visual impairments.”