From Enemy's Daughter to Expectant Bride. Оливия Гейтс

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      Richard pulled back, leveled probing eyes on him. “Aren’t you playing this with too much deliberation? You waited years to concoct this plan—I thought you’d be a bit more eager to finally put it into action.”

      Rafael jerked one shoulder. “I’m in no hurry.”

      “Really? Could have fooled me.” Richard huffed. “Seriously, all you’ve done for two months is set up such events, then stand in the wings watching. Don’t you think you’ve done enough reconnaissance?”

      “After twenty-four years, you think two months is too long for me to savor the anticipation of my revenge?”

      “Put that way, no.” Richard made a sound of self-deprecation. “Seems I’m the one who can’t contain my impatience. You’ve always been the most methodical, patient person I know. That is, along with your dear, relentless Phantom. But you still have one up on him. On anyone. You see the intricacies of probability as simple equations when they’re a maze to the rest of us.”

      Rafael didn’t contradict him. He’d long known that the fluke of his mathematical ability did make him see the world in a different way.

      But no matter what he’d just claimed, Richard was as clear-sighted as he was in his own way when it came to his concerns. However, when it came to Rafael’s, Richard had zero tolerance. He’d killed for him, would no doubt do so again if need be. He’d die for him. The feeling was absolutely mutual.

      It never stopped amazing him that he’d not only been blessed with such a “brother” but with seven. Even though they were down to six these days.

      Shaking away the disturbing memory of how they’d lost Cypher, seemingly forever, he sighed. “Maybe I’m discovering revenge is a dish best served cold.”

      At Richard’s unconvinced grunt, Rafael chuckled, then sipped his champagne, swirling the sweet taste of vicious expectation.

      His revenge would be cold. As bitterly cold as the prison he’d grown up in. As agonizingly slow as time had sheared past there. As grimly inexorable as the hatred he’d nursed all those years for those who’d had a hand in his enslavement.

      Twelve interminable years of enduring his enslavers’ dehumanizing as they’d molded him into the mercenary the Organization would later lease to the highest bidders. Their patrons ranged from top names in politics and commerce to those in organized crime, espionage and war mongering.

      He’d been one of a few hundred boys, picked from all over the world. Some kidnapped from their families, others bought or bartered, many more plucked from orphanages, the streets or chaos-torn zones. They’d all been way above average, physically and mentally. Some were gifted. Like him and his brothers.

      The Organization’s “recruiters” chose their potential operatives using unerring criteria, and they went to great lengths to “acquire” them. They delivered them to that prison in the depths of the Balkans, where they were kept segregated from the world in that sinister fortress his brothers had named Black Castle.

      The Organization acquired children as young as possible, the easier to shape them. The ones they acquired a bit older, like him, or younger but strong enough to resist, like his brothers, they broke first, before they put them in training.

      Training was a euphemism for the hell, both physical and psychological, that they put them through to forge them into lethal weapons. Once they graduated to fieldwork, they were sent out in teams according to the skill set each mission required. They performed under the airtight surveillance of their “handlers.” Death rewarded any attempt to escape.

      Yet he’d survived escaping and, before that, the years of oppression and abuse. Not that it had been because of his own strength. He’d had none left after that first period of isolation and torture. If he hadn’t met his brothers, he wouldn’t have lasted much longer. Then, four years later, Richard had taken him under his wing, too. Richard and his brothers had saved his sanity, and his life.

      Phantom, now Numair Al Aswad, had fulfilled the promise he’d made that day in the dining hall when he and the boys had recognized him as a kindred spirit. From that point on, they’d made life worth living, their brotherhood replacing the family he’d lost. After proving himself worthy of their total trust, they’d included him in the blood pact they’d sworn. That they’d one day escape and become powerful enough to bring the entire Organization down.

      To that end, Phantom had maneuvered the Organization into constantly teaming them up together until they became their prized strike force. This inseparable unit had been vital to their very long-term plans.

      Phantom had also made them believe they’d eradicated their individuality, had turned them into inhuman weapons to be pointed wherever they pleased.

      Once they’d become trusted and depended on, they’d been granted more autonomy, until that laxness had allowed them to execute their escape.

      When they’d finally broken out, they’d gone deep underground, using their combined covert expertise to forge new identities....

      “Reminiscing?”

      Richard, his onetime handler, always read him with uncanny accuracy. It was how he’d found Rafael and the others after they’d escaped—by tracing him.

      His brothers’ handlers had thankfully had no insight into their true nature. But since Richard had been assigned to him when he’d been twelve, an unbreakable bond had developed between them. Richard, ice-cold and implicitly trusted by the Organization, had hidden it perfectly. But there’d been no hiding anything from his brothers. Especially from Phantom and Cypher. Those two saw everything. And seeing his growing rapport with Richard had made them more apprehensive by the day. Their trepidation had proved well-founded when Richard had found them.

      They’d distrusted Richard as totally as Rafael trusted him, considered him one of their enslavers. Their decision had been unanimous. Richard had to die.

      Rafael hadn’t known whom to fear for more. Richard was the most lethal operative the Organization had ever had and certainly capable of wiping them all out. There’d been only one way he could avert that catastrophic situation.

      He’d declared he’d stake his life on both sides, so if there was any killing, they had to kill him, too. Thankfully, they’d trusted him and his judgment implicitly, and it had been enough to make them all back down.

      Yet even after he’d proved their escape plans wouldn’t have worked without Richard’s covert help, they’d still suspected Richard’s motives. It had taken proof that Richard had been a hostage of the Organization himself for them to believe that he wanted to bring them down, too.

      It had still taken his brothers ages to warm up to Richard. Never in Numair’s case. Rafael remained the link between them, since he didn’t relish tearing Richard and Numair’s fangs out of each other’s flesh.

      Those two had never had a truce, not even while they’d collated their unique skills to guide their brotherhood into building their joint enterprise. The one thing they’d ever agreed on was the name of their business—the name they’d given their prison, where they and their brotherhood had been forged. And so Black Castle Enterprises had been born.

      Their СКАЧАТЬ