The rider uses a technique, breaking the neck cleanly, so there is no suffering. That is why it is important not to allow it to be personal if at all possible. You always want the visit to be about justice, not revenge.
I’m not a good man, Ania, and you’re a good woman. A man like me has to think long and hard before he decides to bring a woman like you into his world.
One night will never be enough. A thousand nights will never be enough. If you come to me, Ania, it will be a commitment to me. To us. There will be no going back.
His expressionless mask had slipped and she saw him, his fierce demons and turbulent needs mixed with dark, ferocious passion. He would never be like other men. He would always be dominant, scary to enemies and yet gentle with those he loved.
Nonny has this way about her. She made me realize that there was good people in the world. She made me see that we were a family of sorts – the GhostWalkers in my unit – and that we had extended family in the other GhostWalker units. I liked that.
Looking into Ricco’s eyes, she knew she was safe with him. She felt safe. More she felt free.
It was strange, that feeling of freedom, as if by tying her, he released her spirit – beaten down, so encased in the beliefs of others, what was right, what was wrong, what she was – so that she could just be. Simply be.
She had no idea she could feel so protected. So beautiful. So cherished. He made her feel all those things. She could give him his art- and it was beautiful.
He’d missed her. Really missed her. It was strange to think of a woman night and day, to worry about her and look forward to being with her. To inhale the scent of her and know you were home. To crave her body like an addiction and need the sound of her laughter and sight of her smile. He’d never had that before and now it seemed as natural to him as breathing.
It stems from hundreds of years ago, a law handed down in our family generations ago. The Saldi family in Sicily murdered the Ferraro family, killing as many members, men women and children, as they could. The decree that we don’t all gathering one place was passed down by those surviving that massacre. It was a long time ago, just history really, but we still abide by that rule.
Above all other things, GhostWalkers were enhanced to be able to disappear into the night, fade into darkness and remain undetected by an enemy no matter how close they got to him- or her.
His strength was enormous, and so was the burning need to kill this man. He’d felt this way on more than one occasion. The drive was an actual need, like breathing, consuming him, almost taking him out of his body so that the rage was a separate entity.
He was a machine, not feeling the grueling effects on his muscles as he made the slow crawl between targets, but the longer he was in the field, moving from kill to kill, the more he felt eyes on him.
He could keep her safe, make all her troubles go away. He could do that. He was that man.
He had to be a GhostWalker. She was looking at a legitimate GhostWalker. The real deal.
He took her breath away. He was solid, all muscle and she could see, even with the veil of gray rain, that his muscles rippled deliciously as he ran.
She responded to him as if born for him – and he was certain she was. More importantly, he was beginning to think he had been born for her.
She liked that little nod of approval he’d given her as if she were his equal just because she hadn’t given into the hysteria welling up.
She stood there looking up at him as if he were a good man and would save her. He was debating whether or not he was that good. Unfortunately for her, he didn’t think so.
In his quest to find the perfect supersoldier, he experimented on the girls and when he thought he perfected what he was looking for, he psychically and genetically enhanced the soldiers in his GhostWalker program.