There is a high chance New York Enforcement will be approached by several civilians reporting an incident at a hospital involving Miss Logan and myself. I have the situation fully under control.
I highly doubt control is a word that is fitting to your relationship with Hailey, but you're welcome to try and control her. I look forward to the outcome of that attempt. Incoming reports say a young woman was threatened and kidnapped. The use of mind control is mentioned.
I have the situation under control.
Of course you do.
- Encrypted exchange of messages between James Addison and Zaira Neve
Face still like thunder ten minutes later, Hailey noticed the familiar streets of the city pass by as James maneuvered through the traffic. Because he told her–in an extremely curt way–he was dealing with a situation telepathically, they hadn't spoken about everything that just happened.
Hailey watched the small shops–digital displays advertising their merchandise, a tiny Chinese take-out restaurant, a shoe store selling custom made sneakers–and snapped upright.
This was her home.
James stopped at a parking spot in front of her apartment building. Without saying a word, he got out of the car and walked around to open her door. Hailey stepped out of the vehicle, not even the least bit surprised that James knew where she lived. She walked up the front steps of the building and punched in the code to open the door.
"Why are we here?" she dared to ask as she led him to the elevator.
Standing close to him in the small space with his scent in her every breath made her feel a little nervous of going head to head with him again. Still, they really needed to talk about his reactions to life outside of the valley.
The reason why she'd asked him to kiss her was to gain confirmation from him that even though they'd argued–well, she'd done most of the arguing–they were still okay.
And oh my, he'd kissed you, all right.
It had been rough and hot, shutting out the entire world and focused her senses solely on him. That is, until she noticed several panicked whispers around them. People were very, very scared of her Arrow. He probably thought that would give him the upper hand in dealing with her.
Joke's on him, then…
She pressed in the number to her floor. The doors of the elevator closed, shutting them in the small space that seemed to buzz with his violent energy.
"Do you wish to fight over that as well?" The sneer in James' voice was like a whip, but still, he didn't scare her.
Quite the opposite. Hailey inhaled deeply and bit down on her lip to stop herself from laughing at the idiocy of the situation. James was angry because of her interaction with Shane. She was annoyed because he didn't thaw after her numerous efforts. Then he finally spoke and the words he'd said had been… stupid. She didn't have another way to describe it.
Somehow, somewhere, he'd gotten the ludicrous notion that he could scare her off by pushing her away.
Presumptuous man.
The elevator doors opened and Hailey walked through the hallway to her apartment. She placed her hand on the pad next to her front door. The screen turned from blue to yellow as a small snick sounded.
Hailey opened the door and stepped inside, walking past the kitchen to her left, and dropped her coat on top of the grey sofa that stood in the living area. She leaned against the sofa and kicked off her shoes.
It wasn't a big apartment, her salary as a teacher meager, but it was hers. With cream white walls and soft blue curtains she'd tried to make the living area seem more spacious. The dark wood of the floor contrasted with the lighter colors, giving the room a warm feel. Two large windows with wide windowsills poured in light and provided a view of the busy street below.
Hailey had placed small pillows in the windowsills so she could sit and watch the crowd. She liked sitting there, liked to watch people walk into the shops and through the street.
She automatically strode towards the right window and swiped her fingers over the top of the small, dark piano next to it. The surface felt smooth against her skin, familiar dents and scratches marking the surface from years of use. It had been a gift from her parents when Hailey had turned fifteen. Even when she'd been a small child, Hailey had always been strongly passionate about music. Her parents had been nothing but supportive of her pursuing her dreams. A career in music would have been wonderful, but Hailey's love for interacting with children–especially teenagers–had led to her decision to study children's psychology. She'd been able to finish the courses in half the time and had enrolled herself in music and acting courses shortly after graduating–after discovering that teaching was a form of preventive, primary aid; she'd be able to register the troublesome children and provide them with the lines of help they required before they went over the edge. In seven years time, she'd managed to obtain three degrees. Getting a job after that had been easy.
Sighing at the memories, Hailey studied her piano. Since it was a more old-fashioned version, it still had keys instead of the smooth displays most modern instruments were provided with. The piano was updated enough so she could play with or without earplugs. Hailey often chose the first option, not wanting to be a nuisance to her neighbors when she was playing, even though the walls were moderately soundproof.
It felt good being in her safe, comforting space again, where everything was still the same as the day she left for the valley. Everything but the man she'd brought with her.
Hailey turned around to see James' tall figure stand in the middle of the room. He made the space look tiny, his sheer presence filling the room. Their eyes locked, and Hailey felt a shiver run down her spine at the force of his gaze.
Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she tipped up her chin. "Are you able to talk now?"
He gave her a curt nod.
Rolling her eyes at him, she closed the distance between them until she stood an arm's length away. "Talking implies using speech. You should try it, it can be most useful," she needled him.
Hailey could tell he was clenching his jaw, but other than that, he gave her nothing. Mentally counting to ten, then to twenty, she tried to follow Ivy's advice and be gentle with him. She turned away and walked to the expensive music installation across from the sofa, underneath the entertainment comm.
Quickly selecting a few of her favorite songs, Hailey put the volume on low settings and motioned the device to start playing. The soft hum of music filled the apartment. Clever, small speakers were hidden in the ceiling of every room so she never had to miss a single note.
Muscles easing under the gentle melodies, Hailey started speaking. "When I was fourteen, I met Shane. He was terrible at math and physics, whereas I was a straight A student. Shane is two years older than I am, but he didn't mind getting tutored by a smartass Witch." She grinned at the dumb nickname that'd stuck through all these years. "We instantly became friends. I came around his place a lot. That's why I also know Morgan pretty well; he was a toddler back then." He'd been the cutest little boy Hailey had ever seen, with wild black curls and puffy baby cheeks. She'd instantly grown fond of him and used to cuddle him a lot. "Their mother left when Morgan was only three." She'd only left a short note and they had never heard from her again. "It made the connection between Shane and Morgan strong. They'd do anything for each other." She turned around and faced James, who was studying her with a neutral expression, but for his hard eyes.
Inhaling, Hailey continued. "Shane and Morgan are my family. We might not share blood, but they are the family of my choice." She'd listened to them when they needed someone to talk to about the loss of their mother. They'd held her when she'd cried for the loss of her mother. That kind of connection would never break, Hailey was certain of it. "I've known Shane for longer than a decade. If our interest would have been romantic, something would have happened by now." She arched her brow at James. "You of all people know how stubborn I am. Do you really think I'd wait that long for a guy to make the first move?"
Long moments passed; the space of her apartment filled with the soothing hum of an indie rock song. Just before Hailey decided simply to pounce on James and kiss the answer out of his white-bracketed mouth, he spoke.
"Under the Silence Protocol, civilians were taught physical contact should be avoided as much as possible in order to keep Silent." James watched Hailey intently as she strode towards him. She couldn't know how much she was breaking through his foundations with the sway of her hips, the sparks in her eyes, the blush on her cheeks.
He drew in a deep breath and continued. "Arrows are used to more physical contact, due to the training regimen which includes hand-to-hand combat. The only difference is that in training, physical contact equaled pain." Sometimes the actual pain hadn't been the worst. The knowledge of going to sleep to start another day with the brutal training, to suffer through the physical and mental discipline over and over again, was torture all the same. Especially because James had only been six when the merciless Arrow regime had literally and figuratively been beaten into him.
"Besides the dissonance, the years of physical and mental abuse has caused our minds to respond to each physical stimulus in the same fashion."
The light in Hailey's eyes disappeared when she watched him, as if she was staring straight into his dark soul. "Touch hurts you," she said quietly. "That's what you're trying to say, isn't it? That I've been hurting you all this time, even without the dissonance." Her voice sounded aghast as she stepped back.
James shook his head and closed the distance between them, cupping her chin with a firm grip. Right now, he hated his promise to her, hated the fact that she forced him to speak the truth. "Don't ever stop." The words were raw, mixed with an odd sense of despair. "If you do, it'll hurt more. It's a pain I choose."
Yes, their interaction had been abrasive to his senses, her expressiveness and light almost too much to bear. But he didn't care that her touch caused his severely scarred psyche to respond negatively. The only thing he longed for was more; more of her light, more of her smiles, more of her sweet, soft caresses.
Hailey's eyebrows knitted together and he knew she wasn't letting his comment slide. James knew she understood that denying him the physical contact would instigate another discussion between them. Her following words validated her need to wrap up fight number one before she'd enter the ring for their next battle. "Then explain to me why you're cross with me."
He blinked at her choice of words, reconsidered them regarding her heritage and answered. "I'm not angry with you." Releasing a deep breath, he admitted, "It's easy for him. It's not for me."
Big eyes bruised, she cupped his face. "You can't learn everything in a few weeks' time. That's not what I expect from you."
He clenched his jaw. Her words didn't change the fact that he wasn't meeting her needs. Touch, he had learned, was extremely important to Hailey. And, he now realized it wasn't just important to her… it was also important to him–even if it caused a negative physical reaction.
Hailey hesitated for a moment before she rose on tiptoe and gave him the softest, gentlest of kisses. "We'll figure it out together. No one knows everything about their partner in the first weeks of their relationship." She grinned. "Hell, some people hardly know each other after years of marriage." James could feel her smile on his mouth when she brushed her lips over his again. "You just need to practice. And I totally volunteer to teach you during this experiment. I do have a fee," she said as she rubbed her cheek against his jaw, the act making the darkness inside him stretch, "which you can pay me in kind… if it doesn't hurt you."
The stinging sensation in his chest rippled through his body. He took hold of her jaw, studied her features as she waited for his response. "You need to know I've been on a leash most of my life," he said. "I won't ever act on anyone's orders without question ever again."
Sparking flecks of jade in her eyes, he felt her jaw set. Hailey's reply took several moments, and the tone in which she spoke was sharp enough to cut his skin. "Are you suggesting my interest in you originates from an intention to use you in some shape or form? Like my personal hit man?" She slapped away his hand and stepped back. "Why would you think I'd want something like that?"
Before he could respond she continued, her anger making her eyes a swirl of glowing jade in brown. "How can you think so little of yourself?" The words lingered between them, the soft hum of the music doing nothing to take away the tension in the air. James noted that he'd mistaken Hailey's expression, yet he was unable to verbalize the look she gave him.
"You really don't see it, do you?" she asked quietly.
Disbelief?
"Don't see what?" he asked while still running her expression through a mental databank to categorize her behavior. He came up blank.
"Tell me," Hailey ordered. "Tell me why you think I want to be with you." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and tapped her foot on the floor while waiting.
James didn't immediately have an answer to her question. Aside from the pull between them, he'd never stopped to wonder why she'd want him… and now he realized he didn't know. He wasn't outgoing or charming like most changelings, wasn't gentle like Vasic or selfless like Aden. He'd made her laugh a couple of times, but that had been mostly unintentional.
He thought of more practical reasons. It was unlikely Hailey knew how much money he had at his disposal, so it probably wasn't because of financial reasons. And she abhorred being sheltered or guarded, which eliminated the possibility that she'd stay with him for the protection he could offer.
Running several previous interactions through his mind, James came up with an answer he thought was most fitting. "You have a preference for my physical appearance."
Her jaw dropped and she stared at him for a few seconds. Then she bared her teeth at him. Unable to find the flaw in his answer, James waited for her to elaborate. It took several long seconds before she spoke, her hands opening and closing into fists multiple times. "That's it? That's why I want to be with you?"
James thought about her question.
Apparently, Hailey's patience had ran out before he could answer. She threw her hands in the air and made a frustrated noise.
"God, I'm telling you, you can act really stupid for someone who is highly intelligent." Sadness filled her eyes, replacing her irritation. "I enjoy spending time with you. Even though you sometimes drive me close to bloody murder, I enjoy our training sessions together. You're smart, funny and loyal." She closed the distance between them and cupped his face in her hands, her hold gentle, as if he were fragile. "You're good and patient and calm with the teenagers, and you treat them with the respect and understanding they deserve. You help others without expecting anything in return. You helped me, gave me confidence, trusted me."
She bit her lip and looked away for a moment before locking eyes with him again, her irises deep, dark brown. "When you look at me, everything goes quiet. When you touch me, my heart skips a beat. And when you kiss me, the universe stops for a moment. No one," she whispered as her irises jolted tiny sparks of gold, storm in her eyes, "has ever turned my world upside down like you have."
It was odd, how accurate her words described his own feelings. Unknowingly, she completed and complemented him better than he'd been aware he needed. An emotion built up inside his chest, one he was already familiar with. It caused him to ask his next question.
"Then why do you interact with other men in a similar way?"
A deep frown on her face before understanding dawned on her features. "You went through my recordings!"
"Yes," he admitted. He'd promised not to lie to her, and he would never break his promise.
Hailey's hold became firmer and he couldn't resist touching her anymore. He smoothed his hands over her hips, the warmth of her skin tangible through her thin black t-shirt.
"I have not, and never will be involved with that idiot," Hailey hissed. "Matt got what he deserved after we left the stage and he tried to grab my ass."
James momentarily lost control at the thought of any other man touching Hailey in such a fashion. He burst a bolt of Tk into the air, causing a flash of lightning outside of the apartment.
Hailey's eyebrow arched. "Don't be jealous," she said pointedly, "not unless you also like to have an ice-cold beer thrown into your face." A shrug. "I warned him not to touch me ever again when he tried to kiss me on stage. He thought I was joking." She released her hold on him, her hands sliding down to the armor on his chest as she gave him an amused smile. "He didn't think it was funny anymore after his beer-shower."
If anyone made the mistake to believe Hailey was harmless or weak because she was small, James was certain they'd count their losses after a single conversation with her. This woman possessed a fire so bright, it was as feral as his clawing need to touch that light of hers. She was fascinating. And what was even more bewildering was the fact that she'd decided on him, regardless of his cold demeanor.
Hailey was right when she believed he didn't see himself in the same manner she did. But now she'd explained her point of view, he decided he wanted to be the man she saw in him. Even though he wasn't, he wanted to be good enough for her.
"I don't think I can get used to it," he admitted.
Again, she immediately understood what he meant. "I won't entirely stop interacting with others the way I'm used to, but I promise I'll try to rein the touching part it in as much as possible–if you agree to remind yourself I'm trying."
It was a compromise, a white flag she was waving, even after the harsh and icily way he'd responded to her.
You are undeserving of her, a voice in his mind said.
While that might be true, James wasn't giving her up. She was his. And he'd try.
He fisted her hair and devoured her lips, drinking in the taste, the life of her. He was completely and utterly captivated by her light, her passion and openness. She could ask anything of him, and he'd do it for her.
Only for her.
When he released her, she was breathless and flustered, but not distracted. "Talk to me," she whispered, her luscious lips kiss swollen.
So he did.
James told her about his father, who'd had custodial rights as was set in the conception agreement. He had been almost six when his Tk had lashed out, causing the Council to take action. His father had been forced to sign James over to the Council, placing him in Arrow training. He'd been stationed at training facilities in Baghdad, Moscow, Osaka, Brussels and Malta.
"Anti-interrogation training was the worst," he told her.
Hailey's fingers drew patterns on his chest while she listened to him. In the meantime, she'd ordered food and they'd eaten, after which they laid on her bed. James had taken off his armor and boots and could feel every small caress of her fingers through his thin thermal shirt.
"We were trained to protect all Arrow and mission secrets under every circumstance. Mental and physical torture included." He still remembered being subjected to sleep deprivation, being bound and hit in front of other trainees, and when his peers had been able to watch the beating unblinking, he'd been left with his wounds uncared for until every inch of his body had been burning because of the infection that had set in. After that, he'd simply been healed to start the process all over again.
One of the methods James had found the worst was being subjected to constant, deafening noise for days. Maybe that was the reason why he liked listening to Hailey sing; the haunting, husky melody of her voice was an antidote to the hateful poison that had been pumped into him, healing some of the scars that layered his soul. It was such a simple thing, yet it gave him so much pleasure.
Hailey's fingers now stilled, her palm warm on his chest. "How old were you?"
"Eleven."
Her head jerked up, jade blazing in her eyes. "Jesus. Who does that to children?"
James brushed his knuckles over her cheek, comforting her. "The trainers. The conditioning of Silence was embedded deeply." For some, it might not have been true Silence. Silence didn't distinguish those who were conditioned from those who did not feel. But mostly, James thought the Arrow trainers had done what they believed to be right in order to train their young. After all, Arrows had been the ones enforcing the Silent mandate for a century. They were supposed to be the most perfect examples of Silence.
Hailey leaned into his caress. "So they paid it forward?" She shook her head, dark waves falling over his hand. "I'm glad you guys found another way to teach the children, but this isn't something children should be occupied with. The part of teaching them control I understand. The part where they are prepped to be assassins not so much."
James cupped her chin. "It's not like that anymore." He needed her to understand that. "Aden offers them the choice without rejecting them for their decisions. They will always be Arrows, protectors of the Net, rather than soldiers."
She kissed his thumb when he ran it over her lower lip. "I have to say that you being a tough soldier does hold appeal–you look damn sexy in your uniform–but I hate the paths you had to walk to become like that."
James hauled her in for a kiss and felt his chest expand when she melted into his embrace. "I don't." When she arched her eyebrow, he elaborated. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have met you."
The jade and gold in her eyes were overtaken by deep brown once more, a blush covering her cheeks. "Oh."
"Though, I would have to decline if someone wished to exercise their waterboarding skills on me again."
Hailey's eyes grew huge. Then she scowled. "That's really terrible! You shouldn't joke about things like that. You were a child. They had no right to touch you."
James decided not to tell her about the months where the trainers broke into his mind over and over again, trapping him in his biggest fears until he was able to face any horror without so much as flickering an eyelash.
She pushed at his chest. "You're not telling me everything."
"No. It will only distress you. There's nothing you can change about it."
Hailey moved over him and lay against his chest, her nose almost touching his. "So protective," she whispered. James slid his hands over her butt, resting them on her sumptuous curves.
"Okay, so when did you feel for the first time?" Sparks of curiosity in her fascinating eyes as she stroked her hand through his hair.
"We all have the ability to feel, but it is conditioned out of us."
When she frowned at that non-answer, James stared at the ceiling. He knew he had to be honest, but he wasn't ready for her response, for her to turn him down because of who he was. This was the one thing he did not want to tell her, but it was also the one thing he couldn't keep from her. He couldn't stand it if Hailey would ever look at him the same way she'd done the day he provoked her ability. And he wouldn't be able to deal if she chose to leave him.
His entire being burned in rejection to the thought of losing her smile, her touch, her warmth. Never in his life had James wanted to keep something, someone as bad as her. Never before had he valued anyone the same way.
No one comes close to her.
Hailey was unique, light personified, filled with fire, compassion and honesty. She fought for the things she believed were right and was fueled by her contagious lust for life.
Maybe, just maybe, she would fight for him. Maybe she could show compassion to the blood-drenched assassin he was. A flicker of what James believed to be hope lit his dark soul. He lifted Hailey off him, using his Tk as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his back towards her. He clenched his fists, the veins of his arms standing out starkly.
"Do you know of the Honeycomb Protocol?"
Her arms wrapped around his chest; her soft body warm against his back while she nuzzled his hair. "Yes. The empaths are the ones who made the construction, right?"
He inclined his head. The PsyNet used to be described like a starscape, each star representing a Psy in the darkness of the Net. Since the Honeycomb Protocol was initiated and Silence had fallen, all Psy were connected by fine threads of gold. Some Psy who were connected to each other–or, in changeling terms, mated–were also linked in the Net by a thread of their own. "Because of Silence, the PsyNet started to rot. The decay made the Psy in that part of the Net go insane."
Hailey's hands tightened on his chest as she rested her chin on his shoulder. "I remember the news footage here in New York." She shuddered. "The Arrows were the ones who stopped them."
"Yes. Together with the empaths, humans and some changelings, the outbursts of extreme violence were countered. Only when the empaths constructed the Honeycomb in the Net, the outbursts and decay stopped."
Hailey kissed his jaw, her hair falling over his shoulder and brushing his chest. "But not entirely. That's why Krychek released a statement, right? The PsyNet needs voluntary human connections to fully heal. I've been told that coercion doesn't work."
James tilted his head in her direction as Hailey slid her fingers from his chest to his arm. The warmth of her touch made him calmer, and he released his fists from their tight hold.
"Several months before the rot became public news, Psy were already experiencing erratic episodes of insanity." Hailey listened as she stroked his arm, comforted him with her touch. "But when the rot started seeping through the Net, normal Psy turned into the most vicious and violent murderers. The Arrows had to cover up the events and hunt down the killers."
Hailey's motions stopped. "You had to stop them." She moved to sit next to him on her knees, cupped his face and forced him to look at her, her irises completely devoid of jade and gold flecks. "You protect the populace, the most vulnerable. It doesn't make you a bad person; you don't kill indiscriminately."
He released a shuddering breath. She hadn't rejected him.
Yet.
He gently removed her hands from his face and let her go. "Don't justify my actions. I'm not good in any sense of the word." James turned towards her, his gaze focused on her lips rather than her eyes. "The rot in the PsyNet wasn't the only side effect of Silence. The Psy chose Silence because of the psychopathy that is often linked to our abilities. It was a measure to protect our race, but eventually it turned out Silence was the perfect harvesting ground for psychopaths; since they did not feel, they could act on their psychopathic impulses without the consequence of being rehabilitated. The PsyCouncil knew, but often did nothing."
Hailey went motionless again. James' gaze dropped to his hands; the instruments that had been soaked in blood more times than he could count.
Hailey's whisper broke through the silence. "How do you fit into this?"
He kept staring at his hands, unable to face her, unable to watch those warm eyes turn cold and distant in disgust, in fear. "I'm part of the covert squad that hunts them down."
She moved towards him, tunneling her fingers through his hair and pulling his head in her direction, forcing him to meet her gaze again. "What happens when you find them?" Eyes big, her face looked a little pale, her full mouth a flat line.
He locked eyes with her then, showing her the darkness that lived inside of him. "You know what happens."
Hailey's big eyes shimmered as she kept his gaze, stared right into his blood-drenched soul. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that. I'm sorry you still have to do it."
She embraced him, and it was so unexpected, James froze. Hailey placed gentle, feather-light kisses on his temple, cheekbone and jaw before she looked at him again. "You're nothing like them, James. It hurts you; I can tell it does. You have a conscience and are fully aware of what is right and wrong."
"I'm the worst monster of them all," he said through gritted teeth, unwilling to lie to her about his true nature. "I choose to be on the front lines, to hunt them and kill them." Because the Squad's trainers had been right about that, to actively use him in as many missions as possible in order to keep the twisted, shadowed rage inside him at bay. "But there is no one I have to answer to, no one that questions the actions I've taken. Aden trusts us to handle our assignments accordingly. Do you truly believe I've always done everything in my power to incapacitate them, instead of ending their lives?"
Hailey scowled when she leaned back, jade sparking in her eyes. "Stop hurting yourself like that." She stroked her fingers over his cheek. "Do you enjoy it? Enjoy hunting them and killing them?"
James thought about her question. He could still recall every single incident during the time when the darkness roamed through the PsyNet. Rooms with blood splattered on the ceiling. Limbs scattered over the floor. Bodies ripped to shreds.
However terrible the outbursts of infection had been, James would fight the infected any day over a visit to a psychopath. Especially when the Squad was too late.
The first thing he saw was a small boy–maybe eight,–lying strapped down in a recliner chair. Next to the chair stood a cart with surgical tools, the steel instruments of torture slick with scarlet. He shoved aside a saddle stool while making sure he avoided the carmine pools on the gleaming white tiles.
The boy's body glowed in the bright white light hanging overhead, his skin an unnatural shade of blue. His arms and legs were flayed by his caretaker, the muscles and tendons bare for the eye to see. The putrid stench of decay penetrated his nostrils when he placed his fingers on the boy's neck.
No pulse. No indication of life.
Another room with another child, this boy even smaller. The child was also strapped in a recliner chair but kept in darkness. James used his timepiece to light up the space. A tray of surgical instruments–stained with rust-colored splatters–lay on top of a desk. The skin of this boy's thighs was stitched, but the surface was uneven. Blood crusted on the jagged stitches; the smell of infection evident. James closed the distance, to see flat blue eyes moving in his direction.
The second boy had survived, but it was a small mercy. Later scans showed that the caretaker had placed various items underneath the boys' skin. An experiment, he had called it. Use of a J-Psy revealed that the boy had undergone the treatment not once, but three times.
James had decided it was only fair for the 'caretaker' to receive equal treatment. With use of a telepath, the suggestion had been planted inside the mind of the man that he'd been harmed in a similar fashion. Unfortunately, the man had not been able to survive the torture he'd inflicted on his own flesh and blood. Fear was a most effective tool to instigate a heart attack.
"I feel satisfaction once we've eliminated the threat," he finally answered to Hailey.
Hailey shook her head. "It's not the same thing. I'm asking if killing them makes you feel good, makes you want to do it again." Her eyes pinned him down, the gold flecks more apparent now.
"No." James touched Hailey's cheek, as if a part of him hoped the purity of her, the light of her would seep into him if he held her long enough. "But there is no other way. The covert team needs my skills." Her skin felt like silk against his fingertips as he traced the small beauty marks on the line of her jaw. "It is my purpose to serve the Squad."