A Touch Of Hate

Chapter 9

Verity

"State the reason for leaving HQ premise," a bored monotonous voice of the on-guard soldier sounded.

I froze, feeling as though caught by a knife to my throat. Swallowing hard, I turned to look at him. The sun shone bright, and the heated stones of the pavement radiated with blazing hot air, making the guard look miserable. He had a wet cloth draped over his head, slightly steaming under the sun. I squared my shoulders and tried to copy his tired tone: "Day off from duty. I planned on drowning myself in a pint of ice-cold beer."

"Damn," he sighed, closing his eyes dreamily for a second. "No point in rubbing it my face, you know." I smiled as he waved me off. Moving past him, I picked up my pace as the scout's castle started to draw farther.

That went easier than I thought.

The road to the closest town didn't take long, but I was drenched in sweat when I finally reached the correct pub. Stopping abruptly, I turned, swiping my braid from my face and fixing my shirt as I carefully looked behind, watching the street and lazy pedestrians. I could not shake the stinging feeling of someone watching my back. It made my skin crawl and my breath hitch at every moving shadow. But when I didn't see anything suspicious, I finally entered the stuffed, gloomy room of the pub and looked around, hoping to see a familiar face. My gaze stopped at the lonely figure on the farthest side of the room, sitting around the small table and facing away from the door and toward the side window. I stepped closer, and the person turned at the sound of my footsteps. Recognition sent a relaxing, warm wave of relief down my spine, and I took a seat, trying to keep my emotions from my face.

"Took you long enough," grumbled Kenny taking a sip of his beer. I shifted and put my satchel on the table between us.

"I am sorry, but I've brought all you asked." Kenny looked at me from behind his mug, and then the crow's feet around his eyes deepened as he smiled, lowering his drink.

"Happy to hear that, kid. You did well."

My heart warmed at the praise, and I opened my bag, getting the stack of notes and documents out. I pushed them toward Kenny and removed the beg, releasing the nervous breath I didn't know I held. He took the papers and twisted them in a roll, hiding them in the inner packet of his long trench coat. How he was still wearing it in this weather – was beyond me. But Kenny was simply Kenny. He was strong and unrelenting, his decisions – sharp and well thought out. He wouldn't do anything if it didn't mean winning.

"What's with that titan boy?" He asked, taking another drink. I frowned, not liking that I didn't have an answer.

"Don't know yet. He is shackled to the wall in one of our dungeons. I didn't hear anything regarding what they plan on doing with him."

"Our dungeons?" Kenny lifted his brows, and I froze, shocked by the slip of my tongue. When I didn't answer for a few moments, he spoke again but in a much harsher tone: "I hope you didn't forget your promise to me. Because the only thing I hate more than failure is treachery."

I lowered my gaze, feeling angry at myself for upsetting him. My eyes stung, and I bit my lower lip, refusing to show emotion, which would only make him angrier. "I didn't. I never will."

"Good," he said, searching my face for a moment before nodding and leaning back. "New task. I need you to keep an eye on that titan boy. There will be a court held tomorrow, and I'm having serious doubts that MPs, being the stupid bunch they are, will convince Darius Zackly to give us the boy. So, this falls on your slender shoulders. Watch him and send me reports on all his movements. You can keep using our old mail code. I don't think it's been breached yet."