"The fuck is this?" He growled, slamming his fist against the wall. Regret flashed across his face, but he quickly schooled his expression back to anger. His eyes were trained on the little girl beside me. Much to my surprise, she kept her head up and met his cold gaze.

"She," I shot back pointedly, "is a new friend of mine." I glanced around the warehouse noting exits and shadowy corners and the likes. Although there only appeared to be four of us--the two rebel leaders, me, and the girl--I knew other people lurked around the edges. It was standard protocol, especially when dealing with someone like me.

Mixed-Bloods were notorious for being impossible to kill. If you went up against one of us, there was no chance of coming out alive. There were maybe four or five of us in the world at one time, but we always seemed to cause enough trouble for a thousand.

Granted, I hid my identity most of the time, but if they believed the stories about me then it wouldn't be hard to guess. Most people don't survive a life like mine.

A hand tugged at my arm, pulling me from my thoughts. "My name is Annabelle," she whispered shyly.

I raised my eyebrows at the quiet calm in her voice. "Cool. Nice to meet you Annabelle." Glancing back at the two men across from the table in front of me, I smirked. "Anyway, sorry we're late. Your spies can come out now; we aren't gonna try anything."

The two men exchanged glances. "Spies?"

I shrugged. "I'm not stupid. I know they're there. If you don't trust me, that's fine." The wrinkles around their eyes became more defined, but they didn't say a word against me.

I pulled out a chair, motioning for Annabelle to sit as well. "Besides, it's not like they could take me."

One of the men snarled, and I almost laughed. They needed me, but that didn't mean they liked me, and I didn't bother trying to be personable with some old men begging for help.

"So," I drawled, tapping my fingers against the table and reclining in my chair. "Whatcha want?"