Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 80431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
He stood and stretched, hearing more heavy breaths and hushed murmurs in the hall. Additional guards were waiting around the corner.
Valor smirked.
“The fourteen additional men were not needed,” Valor said as he opened the door, his voice even and dull. “I’ll come willingly.”
A plain man with a forgettable appearance stood a few feet from the door. He wore a pair of well-fitted khakis and a puke-green button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms.
The guy released a nervous laugh, then nodded. “Please put these on and meet me in the hall. Today is your first day of phase two, your physical training.”
Valor eyed the dark green cargo pants and olive cloak, cocking one brow.
“It’s required, sir.”
“Sir”. Valor frowned. Why did that sound so right?
Valor complied and put on the loose clothes over his shorts and white T-shirt.
“Your hood, sir. The anonymity of your identity will be critical from this moment on. There are a limited number of people in this building permitted to see your face.”
“Why is that? Mr…?”
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Lawrence Steven. Call me Ren. I’m your management operator.” He stuck his hand out, but Valor didn’t take it, continuing to stare into the man’s eyes.
“I’m second-in-command of your crew, and I ensure you’re in the places you’re supposed to be when your handler is consumed with business.”
The man checked his watch and then the paper attached to the clipboard in his right hand. “And you’re required to be in the Greens training facility in thirty-two minutes.”
Handler?
“What exactly am I training for? And why do I need a handler?” He frowned, closing his room door behind him.
“All of the Raven assassins have one.” Ren blinked and stared at him as if he were dumb. “Surely you know this. I’m not allowed the details of your recruitment, but this is what you signed up for…yeah?”
Valor narrowed his eyes, nodding solemnly.
This man didn’t know his situation or that he’d been abducted, not recruited. This further confirmed that Valor had to be careful who he trusted in this place.
Assassin! I’m a victim of mistaken identity…gotta be.
Ren went back to studying his papers while they walked the long hallway.
“Your training will be four hours long. When done, you’ll have an hour of private time for rest and reprieve before dinner. You can have it sent to your quarters, or you can dine in the Greens dining facility. It’s a private hall with only servers and chefs. If you have meal preferences, your administrative coordinator can relay that for you.”
His food had been delivered six times a day for the entire week, but he liked the idea of a dining facility.
“Just remember to please stay concealed beneath your hood.”
“I’d like a steak, a tomahawk if they have it, cooked as rare as they dare make it.”
“I’ll be sure to relay that to Mack. She’s your admin.”
“Is there a patio to eat on?”
“Yes.” Ren smiled. “Everywhere you’re permitted to go will have access to the outdoors.”
Good. Valor didn’t miss the word “permitted.” He was sure none of those places were outside the building.
Valor would take the modicum of freedom and luxuries he was getting. Now that he knew the despicable job they were grooming him for, he’d play the complicit follower and earn the director’s trust, and with trust came comfortability, then slackened defenses.
As long as they didn’t go back to wiping his memories—erasing all he’d acquired in the past month—he’d only get smarter and more cunning. And when he’d learned more about his surroundings and his captors’ shields were down, he’d strike.
Valor wasn’t sure what he’d done before he was taken or what kind of man he was, but he couldn’t have been a cold-blooded murderer. He could feel it deep down in his bones. He wasn’t a nobody or a follower. He was a leader. He’d been in charge of something, and he’d been damn good at it.
Chief Styles Sawyer
Zorion
After the scientist reduced Zorion’s sedation and tubes, they suggested he rest, and they’d be back to get him later in the evening. And that he should try to get some rest as the sedative wore off completely.
He guessed he was supposed to feel disoriented, but he didn’t.
After Dr. O’Reilley led the other scientists out of the room, Zorion began to explore because the last thing he wanted to do was get back on that table and lie down again.
As the sedative continued to fade and dissipate in his system, a foreign sensation coursed through him. Unlike the previous groggy, numbing sensations, it was electrifying.
He eased off the table, his legs trembling on his first few steps, stiff from being unused for weeks. His bare feet were sensitive to the cold floor. It felt like stepping on a sheet of ice after traipsing through the desert.
He stretched and rolled his neck, then continued to survey the vast laboratory. He didn’t know the purpose of the instruments, machines, and blinking monitors, but he had a sudden desire to blow it all up.