Suicide Mission (Guarded Secrets #1)

13: "Demon or should I say Hell's angel?"

"Why a Phoenix?" I asked curiously, playing along with the topic change so Demon wouldn't race off and try to ditch me like he had earlier when he handed me over to Sharp Shooter in line. He had gotten Sharp Shooter's attention, then gotten out of the conversation as fast as he could so that he could be away from me for a while. He really didn't understand how determined I was to have him hear me out about this, just to get him to reconsider.

"I was reborn from the ashes thanks to the agency," she said curtly. She pushed a few more forkfuls of food into her mouth, but when she glanced over to see my confused expression she took a moment to clear it up for me. She cleared her throat after she swallowed before saying, "You're not the only one with some sob story, Sara, and I just choose not to be open about mine."

"Will you ever talk about it?"

"I very rarely tell someone everything. It takes a lot for me to trust a person and I don't tell people about my past unless I trust them," she said bluntly. "Don't be insulted by that though, maybe one day I'll tell you. For now, all you have to know is that, I almost died. Actually, I died for three minutes, and then the paramedics revived me. I was reborn," she said, effectively ending that conversation because I was afraid to push her further than she was comfortable with.

"What about you, Raider?" I asked, knowing that he didn't enjoy talking to me after our sparing match or before that either as a matter of fact. He was still upset that I had beat him since he trained in hand-to-hand combat and I was a rookie. If I didn't know better I would say he let me win, but that wasn't in Raider's abilities to forfeit a match. Due to that, something inside me told me he also just didn't like me in general. Whether it was because I was an outsider, a rookie, or a girl was anyone's guess, but mine.

"I don't have any." He growled, as if he was upset with me for interrupting his lunch. "I think they are useless. They do not show the determination, acceptance, or allegiance to the agency and our cause as some consider them to," he said curtly, with a soft growl at the end of his sentence that finished that conversation quicker than Spit Fire had.

I glanced down at my food awkwardly, trying not to look up and accidentally offend anyone else while I shoveled food into my mouth. I was halfway through my plate of food when Demon finally took pity on me and pulled me out of the silence.

"Look Sara, I can't be your trainer because I scope out possible recruits. I travel around when not on missions to look for individuals that the agency has their eyes on. I determine if they have the potential and then bring them here. I'm the one that found you, watched you, and secretly motivated you to continue practicing to steal things. I needed to be there for you, as I will have to do for others, so that you can see your own potential and come to the agency."

"How so?" I asked him, uncertain of how he motivated me to continue to steal things. I had always just done it, and never thought of anyone secretly pushing me to practice the skill. There was nothing that I could think of when Demon had forced me to practice stealing anything, but then again, if I knew it I probably wouldn't have done it.

"Remember when I called you out on stealing everything you had ever taken from me?" he asked without hesitation. He glared me down, knowing that I remembered that day, but I wasn't going to tell him. I hated that day and refused to even think about it most times.

I offered a nervous smile to his question. "Of course not," I lied.

"Really? Because I do, quite clearly," he replied with a lifted eyebrow, calling my bluff.

I let out a nervous laugh because I remembered it too well, even though I tried to forget about it so that I could say I had selective amnesia. I used to take Demon's gum from his back pocket, his keys, and everything else when I wanted them or needed something and he refused to do it for me. There was one day I needed to go back home to get my history binder for my class next period. Having that binder was my grade for the week, because everything we were doing for the week was based off my binder. We had spent all week working on it and today we were supposed to give a presentation, a discussion, and a debate off of the work we did. I didn't finish the binder in class and had to take it home to finish, then spaced out when Alex and I were running late again. So, I tried to convince him to take me home to get it during the lunch period before my class, but he refused.