They Who Slaughtered Hope 🌈| 1-2 Updates a Month

Chapter 17

Mitsan was shuffling around papers with caricatures of Ren, Trixcia, the Kendrick-Carson family, and another face that the sniper didn't know personally but was notorious throughout London. The Verita Aser Queen, Zeraynia. "That never stopped you before." There was a solid thump as they stacked the documents. "Seems like that house is changing you at an unprecedented rate."

Before Ren had the chance to amend his confusion, Mitsan looked up, their eyes narrow slits. "But enough about that. What news do you have of the enemy?"

The way they said it was meant to be a reminder that this mission was like any other. In reality, it wasn't anything close to it, when the sniper had no experience in the field of undercover work. "Before I give my report, might I ask something, Sir?"

"What is it, Ryker?"

With a single word, Ren knew to keep his questioning brief. "Why did you choose me for this mission, when there are so many better, more qualified candidates at your fingertips? Why me and not Trix or someone else?"

There was a long pause. Every second of silence kicked Ren's heartbeat up a notch. He shifted his feet, bracing for Mitsan's heavy sigh. When he finally heard it, Ren's anxiety peaked.

"This again, Ren? If I didn't know any better, I'd think that you were ungrateful for the second chance I gave you. Would you have preferred it if I left you on the streets? Is this what your sister would have wanted for you?

Mitsan pressed their fingers to their temple. "You don't remember, because of the shock, but I was there when you found her letter the day she... passed. I read her last words to you; they were her true and honest intentions. She entrusted me with you because she and your parents had faith in me. And you should too, Ren. Have faith in the only one who truly loves you."

The sniper opened his mouth, then closed it again. What could he say? Could he really deny Sarlyn's final words? Deny Mitsan's love because he still had doubts? 

Ren clenched his jaw. Mitsan was right. He had to have confidence in them and stop whining about a job he wasn't equipped to handle yet—and adapt. If Mitsan thought he could do it, Ren would.

"Yes, Sir!" he said, saluting. Unlike the Verita Aser, the Crimson Syndicate didn't have a special salute to enforce uniformity. Each Syndicate member was their original, authentic selves, with no expectations to conform to except that they performed their jobs splendidly and without fail.

Ren was struggling to meet that expectation in more ways than one.

"Your report, Ren."

"Right! Right." Ren opened his mouth, but his brain couldn't seem to form the right words. He'd been in the Syndicate long enough to know that none of this information was for Mitsan's benefit. It was just so Mitsan could make sure the sniper was paying attention and doing his job.

"The eldest son goes grocery shopping once a week, on Fridays. On every other day, he gets up the earliest and prepares his brother for school, then works at the flower shop, usually until five with his mother if she isn't going out that day. If she is, she spends several hours in her room before leaving. Her parties and social affairs are difficult to keep track of. She doesn't have a routine, and she doesn't have a planner for them either—though I think she would notify me in advance if I were to ask."

Mitsan didn't so much as blink in Ren's direction. If anything, they appeared bored. "Go on."

"They tend to the shop interchangeably, but they often bicker about small things relating to it because they don't communicate well, if at all. The same is true of the family as a whole, although whole is certainly not a word I would use to describe them."