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EIGHTY-FIVE

XERO

I sit beside Amethyst on an exercise mat, studying her reaction to Lizzie Bath’s video. There’s a strip search where she’s degraded by officers and assaulted with batons, followed by a ‘night in jail’ where the officers take turns with her while she’s cuffed to an iron cot.

Amethyst’s breath shallows and her skin glistens with sweat. My chest tightens. I hate for anyone other than me to make her so distressed, but this is the only way for her to grasp the gravity of the threat. I can protect her as long as she’s compliant, but nothing is foolproof.

The only way I can be sure Amethyst survives long enough for me to take out her enemies is if she’s equipped with the basics of combat and escape. Her posture shrinks, and her face leaches to the shade of her peroxide-blonde curls. I’ve never seen her look so ghostlike.

Back on screen, the older woman passes out, and the actors slap her awake. By the time they shave her head, both Amethyst and Lizzie’s faces are blank. Afterward, they chain her to a shower room, where she’s surrounded by a quartet of male prisoners for a final gang rape before the grand finale.

“No more,” Amethyst whispers. “I’ve got the message.”

“Which is?” I ask, as a naked man in an executioner’s hood sits Lizzie on an electric chair, where he shoves a metal probe into her vagina and attaches crocodile clips to each nipple. After securing her body with electrodes, he thrusts his cock in Lizzie’s mouth.

“I need to take this training seriously. Stop fighting you. Stop complaining. Stop getting in your way.”

“And?”

She takes her eyes off the screen. “What more do you want from me?”

“No plotting your escape.”

Her jaw clicks shut, confirming my suspicions that she was planning on leaving. Without another word, she turns to the screen where Lizzie sits under a metal cap with cum oozing from between her lips. Behind her, the executioner pulls down a lever that sends a deadly current into her twitching form.

My jaw clenches, and my veins surge with hot fury. This is what they would have done to my Amethyst. Defiled her in multiple different ways before executing her for fun and profit.

We’ve killed pornographers before, but never encountered anything so well-organized. The last den we took out was a three-man operation run from a rented apartment, where they converted each room into studios. Amateurs compared to X-Cite Media.

The scene is so similar to John’s execution that it’s obvious they have an insider in the prison to help with authenticity. I turn to Jynxson. “We need to have a word with Officer McMurphy.”

“You think she’s working with them?”

“She shot the footage for my supposed execution. She could also have helped them with the set design.”

Jynxson raises a shoulder. “Want me to pick her up?”

“Hold her in a cell. Don’t let her know it’s you.”

He nods.

A blond actor in a white coat announces Lizzie’s time of death, then she’s unstrapped from the chair. In the next scene, four men wearing lab coats stand around her corpse in a mortuary.

“Turn it off,” I mutter .

Amethyst squeezes her eyes shut and clutches her temples. “I don’t want to end up like Lizzie Bath.”

“You won’t.” I place a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ll teach me to fight, right?”

I nod. “Of course.”

She swallows. “What if they send four men after me again? Or six?”

“That’s why we’ll alternate between combat and teaching you to break through restraints.”

“Good.” She nods. “Thank you.”

Some of the tightness in my chest loosens, knowing she’s finally going to cooperate with the training. I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Would you like to meet my sister?”

Minutes later, Camila arrives dressed in her standard uniform of black combat pants and an oversized hoodie. Her raven hair is tied back into a tight bun, which matches her expression.

“You dipped out of your welcome home party,” she says, her voice sharp with accusation.

“I had to know if he visited the grave.”

Her gaze softens. “That bastard is too slick to show his face.”

“Amethyst, this is Camila, my youngest sister.”

Amethyst’s gaze darts from me to Camila, her brow furrowing enough to make me smirk. My sister and I share so few similarities that it’s impossible to tell we’re related.

She’s five-two, olive-skinned, with eyes so dark that they appear black, while my height and coloring are the opposite. Our connection is only obvious when we’re both standing beside Isabel, who is the perfect mix of our two extremes.

“Nice to meet you.” Camila holds out a hand. “I’m a fan of your work.”

Amethyst blinks at her, startled, before reaching out to shake. “Thank you. I think?”

“Your social media campaigns helped create the chaos we needed to push forward Xero’s execution,” Camila says.

When Amethyst dips her head, I pull her into my side. She cried the morning she discovered my execution date had been brought forward, blaming herself for stirring up trouble.

She did me a favor. I didn’t just get myself arrested to gain access to John. Any one of my assassins, including myself, could have snuck into the prison and shanked that psychopathic bastard. We needed to lure out Father.

I shove aside that thought, refusing to believe the old bastard is dead. “Jynxson and I will both capture Camila. Watch all the different things she does to escape us.”

Amethyst gives me a sharp nod and stands back. Camila springs into action, kicking Jynxson in the shin before sprinting for the doorway. Jynxson gives chase, catching her in seconds. He grabs her bun, but she turns into his grip and delivers a punch to his balls.

“Watch how she moves.”

I rush forward to intercept Camila and grab her around the arms. She drops low, sweeps her leg beneath mine, and sends me sprawling onto the cold cement.

As she straightens, Jynxson grabs her from behind in a chokehold. Camila twists low and positions her body behind his, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Amethyst steps forward, her eyes bright with admiration. Rising off the floor, I suppress a surge of jealousy that she’s inspired by someone who isn’t me.

“Can I try?” she asks.

“Think you can handle me?” Jynxson struts toward her with a grin I want to smack off his face, but Camila gets to him first with an elbow in the ribs.

“Asshole,” my sister mutters.

Jynxson sweeps her into a hug and kisses her on the lips. I hold back my usual snarl, not wanting to let him rile me up with PDA. He already knows I’ll cut off his balls with a rusty knife if he breaks Camila’s heart.

“Run through the first move in slow motion for Amethyst to follow,” I say.

Jynxson makes a show of rubbing the spot where Camila’s elbow made contact. This is his attempt at flirting, considering I’ve seen him take a bullet without flinching.

My sister rolls her eyes at him and steps back. This time, they go through the motions once at an excruciating pace for Amethyst to observe and then a second time for us to follow along .

This is first-year academy material. At least for the likes of Camila, who spent the first thirteen years of her life living under the loving care of a mother, even if it was within a household of snakes. Jynxson and I learned these moves at the age of ten.

Amethyst rushes off, mirroring Camila’s attempt to escape. I catch up with her in a few steps, grabbing a handful of her hair. She turns back into me, her tiny fist flying toward my crotch, but I grab her wrist.

“Nice try, little ghost.”

“You’re supposed to let me punch you in the nuts,” she snaps.

“And you were supposed to take me by surprise.”

Her left arm swings up, aiming for my throat. I twist to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike to my windpipe.

“What was that?” I ask. “Muscle memory?”

“I learned that from Camila.” She spins out of my hold and jogs back to my sister.

Camila didn’t demonstrate any such move, but I’m not about to stall her progress by pointing out what might be a fluke. For the rest of the morning, we practice the routines over and over until I’m satisfied that Amethyst can execute them without fail.

Next, Jynxson and I attack my sister simultaneously. We run through three different scenarios with Camila before letting Amethyst take her turn.

Even though she’s nervous, Amethyst picks up the moves too quickly for a beginner. With each sequence, her strikes become more confident, and her timing more precise. More importantly, she always maintains a forty-five-degree angle to us, minimizing her blind spots and keeping us both in her line of sight.

“You’re a natural,” Camila says.

She’s wrong. No one learns this level of situational awareness without prior training.

I grab for Amethyst while Jynxson tries to snatch her from behind. She kicks my shin and swings her leg backward to attack Jynxson’s kneecap. While I’m bent over, she punches my temple and knocks me aside. In moments, she turns to face us, ready for our next attack.

“Good job,” I say.

Amethyst’s face is covered in a sheen of sweat, and her cheeks are flushed with exertion. My praise rolls off her back with no traces of triumph. Watching what happened to Lizzie Bath has sharpened her resolve better than any of my verbal warnings.

“What happens if they send more than two men?” she asks.

I cup her cheek. “Then you do your best to stay conscious and make sure the restraints aren’t too tight. You’ll have another chance to escape when they’re transporting you to the second location.”

“Okay,” she says, her lips tightening.

“Remember, this is just a precaution. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes meet mine, and something shifts. The air between us thickens with unspoken tension. In her gaze, I detect a flicker of hope, fear, and something else I can't quite place.

The silence stretches, heavy with the moment. Then, with a breath through parted lips, she gives me a shaky nod.

My heart softens. I glance away first, wondering when she crawled under my skin.

“Take a break,” I say, my words gruff. “We’ll continue after brunch. After dark, we’ll drive up to Alderney Hill and deal with your mother.”

Her eyes harden at the reminder, but I’m not sure which has her more rattled: Her mother auctioning off her home or the fact her father might not exist.