Cursed Angels

She goes to kiss me, but I back away.

“Archer?”

“Not happening. You broke my trust. Going to be a while before you get back in my bed again. I’m not certain that while I’m sleeping, you won’t drug me and stick another chip in my head.” I raise a suspicious eyebrow at her, and she lowers her head with some semblance of guilt.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Still not letting you suck my dick. You better buy a vibrator, Rebekah, because I’m going to be a very busy man for a while. I’ve got a job to do and a bitch to bring to task.”

I push her out of the way and prepare to storm out of the room. I’m done with this conversation, and if I’m in the presence of this woman for much longer, I’m likely to slip and kill her. I needed this scene to convince her that I’m just as bad as she is. It makes me sick that I need to lie this way. The chip being removed from my head brought back so many memories of what I’ve done with my life. I know that I’ll need to repeat some of those acts before this is over, but at least I finally have control over my body now. They would’ve realized when I didn’t lose chunks of my memory the chip was gone, and that would have caused too many problems as Samara, Hunter, and I bring down this institution from the inside. Everything is out in the open now. I can destroy with a clear conscience.

“Archer, wait,” Rebekah calls out. “You wanted proof I trust you.”

I turn and cock my head at her. “Go on.”

“There’s a new shipment. The boys have been sent for training . . .” She pauses. “And chipping.”

“Good.”

I make to leave again, knowing she’s going to give them to me to train as some sort of loyalty test. That could be to my benefit though. Educate them, just not in the way she expects.

“Wait. There was a girl in the shipment. She’s in the dungeon and needs breaking in. She’s all yours. My gift as an apology.”

Fuck.

Chapter 25

Samara

He’s gone. He’s been gone for a good five hours and twenty-four minutes, and I’m climbing the walls. I’m driving Hunter nuts. He’s been sighing at me all day, and I’ve been admonishing myself. The fear of Archer being captured, locked up when they find out he no longer has his chip, is something that’s been bothering me.

“Mara,” Hunter’s voice calls to me from the kitchen. Turning to him, I find him leaning against the doorjamb staring at me. “He’ll be fine. He’s been in that place all his life.”

“That’s the problem, Hunt.” Sighing, I face him fully. “There’s nothing in that hellhole for him. If they find out he’s no longer got the chip, she could kill him.”

“She being Diana’s sister.” He’s right. The woman who trained us, who turned us into the vigilante’s we are, was related to the scum who now runs The Factory. “We need to figure out what else she knew,” Hunter says, stalking my way. “Diana’s records are all on the hard drive. I’m sure we can find something that can help us. A weakness of some sort.”

We spend our day looking, searching through Diana’s files. I’m about to give up when my gaze flicks over information I haven’t seen before.

“Look at this,” I tell Hunter, shoving the pages toward him. I keep my gaze trained on him as he scans the document. When he finally lifts head, I know we’re having the same thought.

“We need to find the other sister,” he tells me, which has me nodding in agreement. Three sisters — one being Diana, one Rebekah, and the third a mystery woman who can possibly help us. Nothing is certain, but it’s worth a try.

My computer beeps, the location device on the graveyard alerting us of someone in the cemetery. When Hunter pulls up the camera, I see Archer leaning in, his hand on Diana’s grave, then I notice him place something in the ground.

“What is he doing?” I question, and Hunter shakes his head in response. Archer digs up the sand, shoving the white object into the hole, then covers it up quickly. He’s dressed all in black, a large gun in his holster, and when he turns, his eyes find the camera as if he knows I’m watching.

He offers one slight nod, then he’s out of the screenshot. My heart catapults into my chest, and I’m on my feet in seconds.

“We have to go,” I tell Hunter, who’s pulling on his leather jacket, and we’re making our way out the cabin moments later. I let Hunter drive, because my hands are shaking far too much for me to focus on anything other than what Archer has left for us to find. My heart, though, is filled with relief because I know he’s alive. Dark thoughts filtered into my mind thinking they’d hurt him, that they’d lock him up and torture him for losing the chip.