The Mercenary 소설 & 이야기

I dropped it back on the tray, shaking my head from the disgust. As a mercenary, we had been trained to drink almost all kinds of drinks, sweet, bitter, strong, when it was necessary. I couldn't even get drunk no matter how much I drank, it was like a superpower of some sort. I sighed, there was barely anything sweet in this place. They were all so bitter and alcoholic that it hurt. Well, what was I expecting? I came to a place filled with drug lord, mafia lords and illegal business people. And worse, they all smelled of sweat.

"With my partner." "Understood. But if you ever need contracts, send word. I know other Alphas who could use your services." We left that morning, gold in hand, reputation building. On the journey home, Marcus was quiet. "What are you thinking?" I asked. "That you're building something. Maybe without realizing it." He looked at me. "A mercenary group. Fighters for hire. Loyal to each other, not to any pack." "Is that what this is?" "Could be. If you wanted it to be." He paused. "There are others like me, you know. Good fighters who've been cast out for stupid reasons. Who'd jump at the chance to belong somewhere again."

he says. "Your turn for what?" He stands up. The movement is stiff; the cold has settled into his joints. He walks to the edge of the ridge, looking out at the invisible line where the ocean meets the sky. "I've spent fifteen years being a mercenary. A contractor. A man with a price." He turns. The wind whips his hair across his forehead. "But I don't want to be that man anymore." He moves back to the fire. Kneels beside me in the dirt.

MIRA There he is. On the first page. He wears a black suit with a black shirt and gold accessories. He has a pair of black shades on, like he’s captured by the paparazzi as he walks away with his bodyguards. I gasp softly, touching my lips as I read through it. Jackson Meliś. Heir of the Meliś Enterprise under strict investigation for fraud and scam. A paragraph reads, “he takes from the poor to enlarge his own pocket.”

She missed him so much that it was unbearable, and she regretted everything she had done. Every day, she would drink herself into oblivion, and as a result, the baby in her womb didn't survive. Her uterus had to be removed as well. That was when Dash showed up. He threatened to leak explicit photos of her unless she handed the company over to him. He had planned to use the baby to secure his place, but it had never occurred to him that she would give up the baby for Tristan. Dash had always known that she loved Tristan. He never dreamed of getting her love—all he wanted was money and power.

The man was stronger than me, like a beast. “One day of being good, and then back to square one? It’s fun to mess with you, but you should know your limits.” “F—fuck you…… Ugh…… Ugh…….” “I was going to show you mercy if you behaved.” “…….” “You have to pay for trying to do something bad.” He grabbed the back of my neck and dragged me off the bed.

As soon as I walked in, about a dozen blades were aimed at me. “Halt!” a voice growled. I dropped to one knee in the sand, gasping dramatically. “Don’t shoot. Please, I’m just a mercenary! Just looking for coin! I need work.” Before I knew it, four scouts surrounded me. I could see the suspicion in their eyes. I expected this. A tall man stepped forward. I could tell he was a sergeant by the shoulder plating. One of his eyes had a deep scar. “You’ve got guts, walking in like that.” He said “Or you’ve got a death wish.”

Tonight, blood debts demanded alliance. The SUVs rolled to a stop, engines grumbling low like caged beasts. Doors opened. Men stepped out—mercenaries, pale-eyed, movements deliberate, weapons slung low but not forgotten. They carried themselves with the quiet of wolves who’d killed too many times to need to posture. Then Marek emerged.

We ate our meagre soup in silence, the air thick with feigned despair. At eight o’clock, the heavy steel bolt on the door screeched open. A man I hadn’t seen before, mid-thirties, with dull brown hair and tired eyes, pushed the slop bucket inside. He was unremarkable, dressed in the same uniform as the others, but without the hard-edged military bearing. He was just a mercenary, a cog in Mia’s machine, clearly there for the money, not the cause. Perfect. He avoided our eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the silent, despairing tableau of women inside.

The silence that follows is heavy with everything we’re not saying, all the ways our family fell apart and can’t quite figure out how to come back together. Then his voice shifts, gets quieter and more serious. “Just be careful, Cass.” “What do you mean?” “People with money like that, they don’t care about people like us. They’ll use you up and spit you out the second you’re not useful anymore. I’ve seen it happen.” “It’s not like that—” “I’m serious. Whatever you think you have with them, whatever relationship you think you’re building, it’s not real. You’re staff. You’re help. And the second they decide you’re not worth keeping around, you’re gone.”