Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“I know of your organization,” the brute growled. “I also know your cause…and I can assure you, we are not the same.”
“Raven is an appropriate name for you. The bird is a clever yet resourceful demon. A scavenger that feeds on decaying flesh.”
Grace was glad the man couldn’t see his eyes widen beneath his hood.
How does he know we’re Ravens?
Not even the POTUS knew of them.
Grace clenched his jaw as Mirage inched closer. He had an overwhelming need to defend what he, Mirage, and the Ravens stood for, what they fought so hard for.
Most of all, he resented being called a goddamn scavenger.
“Your organization devours the dead souls of men. And claims to kill discriminately. All while ignoring the injustices and corruption within your own country under the guise of allegiance.”
Grace turned and glanced down at Mirage with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw.
Mirage nodded.
“Many Americans believe that all beings—home or abroad—are deserving of a life free of tyrants, dictators, insurgents, and rebels that slaughter and terrorize.”
Grace took a step forward, with Mirage attached, showing he was not afraid of them.
“Their deaths are justice for their victims.”
“You deem yourselves judge and executioner.” The man’s eyes flashed with the same golden hues as the sun peaking over the horizon. “That is the disease that plagues your heart, Raven.”
Anger and annoyance leaked from Mirage’s voice. “The Kenjuka Clan is responsible for countless deaths, including women and children.”
“And your organization’s solution is more death.” Their opponent glared with disdain through the slit in his mask.
“You call justice allowing them to live,” Mirage countered in a level voice, but Grace was losing his patience.
How dare these self-righteous bastards preach to them?
“We don’t serve the pretentious superiority of the United States but recognize all countries of the world. Our Order was once a league of merciless assassins such as your Ravens. But the Order under my command believes that all offenders have a right to be tried before a fair and impartial council. And if found guilty, Woyashi will not be tortured nor slain but confined within the custody of the Order of Imuma Aga Kahn.”
Who? Grace had never heard of them.
“Woyashi will learn to respect humanity and discipline. He’ll be given the chance to redeem his soul before his last days and meet whichever higher power he acknowledges.”
“Blacks’ ETA: fifteen seconds.”
Corvo’s voice was a godsend because Grace would be damned if he was allowing one of the most ruthless, heartless clans in the world to have a second chance at killing.
The Ravens had their mission, and these ninjas of their Order had theirs.
The large warrior replaced his black-and-gold cover as if Grace and Mirage weren’t worthy to gaze upon his magnificent beauty.
Grace glared, counting down in his head. When he got to three, he flexed his back muscles, alerting Mirage he was about to attack. His launch into action would throw off his opponents as Ex and Meridian made their entrance.
Or so he thought.
Grace aimed high, and Mirage went low, pulling his twenty-inch fighting knives.
Grace threw a series of combinations that sent the big one on defense, countering and blocking the rapid rounds of fists and chops at his throat.
The other snakelike ninja did a hypnotic dance, moving as if he were a cobra that needed charming, and wrapped slithering arms around his partner’s waist.
Grace tried to shield them with his coat, but the snake struck with his pointed fingers at the center of both Mirage’s inner wrists, hitting him in tendons that made him drop his blades.
He’d done it so damn fast that by the time Mirage yanked away, the man was back in the corner of the room.
Fuck!
Grace shifted, keeping Mirage tucked behind him as he gave the large one as good as he was getting.
Again, his cover came loose, and his crown of stark blond hair flowed down his back like spilled paint, never tangling or separating.
To a less skilled fighter, it could almost be a distraction.
Their opponents must’ve heard the approach of the Blacks a second before they entered.
The larger one flipped backward, barely missing Ex’s attack as he exploded through the window feet first.
The sly serpent who’d yet to speak leapt high enough to grip a low-hanging wire and scaled the top half of the wall as Meridian barreled through a thick piece of plywood, flipped on his back, and rode the board across the floor.
His stiletto double-edged dagger, Whisper, sliced through the air, leaving the faintest hum in its wake.
The razor-sharp metal glistened in the dim light as he made two rapid slashes toward the larger man’s calves, but both missed their mark.
With exceptional agility, the big one landed in a crouched stance, those brilliant eyes scanning Ex’s and Meridian’s black clothes and low hoods before circling around them.
“Where there is one Raven, there is indeed another,” the mysterious man growled, flexing his big hands. “A flock of them are an ill omen.”