As I work, I can’t help but wonder what the hell is happening to me. Who am I becoming in this place? I don’t recognize myself anymore.
It’s like my own mind is fucking with me, weather I’m awake or asleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Zeth
Over the next few days, I watch Wren deteriorate. She becomes increasingly distant, her thoughts scattering whenever I try to reach for them. She doesn’t talk to me much, responding only with single words when I check in – yes, no, fine, later. Even Dale’s visits with food don’t amuse her anymore, and she used to at least crack a smile at the undead guard’s terrible fashion choices. Now she barely acknowledges him, only takes the bag and returns to work without a word.
She’s focused on cooking Crimson Haze, working from the moment she wakes until she can barely stand. She sleeps only five hours each night and always asks me to sedate her mind so she won’t dream. I do it because she asks, but I hate it.
I can feel that she’s coiled tightly, like a spring about to snap. Every muscle in her body is tense and rigid. Her skin has taken on a pale, sickly quality despite eating well, and I know the lack of sunlight is killing her slowly. She hasn’t seen the sun or breathed fresh air in almost a week. Being trapped in here with only harsh fluorescent lights makes her look like a ghost.
She needs to get outside, needs fresh air and real sunlight, but she knows the only way out is by giving Garrett what he wants. By the end of her first week of imprisonment, three entire cupboards are filled with vials of Crimson Haze.
I sense Wren starting to worry that Garrett isn’t taking the vials to sell. She expected the organization would want to distribute Crimson as quickly as possible to satisfy desperate clients, but the vials just keep accumulating with no one collecting them.
Just as this worry starts eating at her more than usual, the door to the laboratory bangs open.
A man Wren has never seen before struts into the laboratory like he owns everything in it and more. He’s short but carries himself with the kind of confidence that comes from never being told no. He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair is slicked back with too much product, and his piercing green eyes lock onto Wren.
“Well, well, well,” he says, voice smooth but carrying an edge that makes me tense. “Let’s see what you’ve been cooking in here.”
He approaches Wren without hesitation, crossing the laboratory like he has every right to invade her space. She backs away instinctively, confusion and wariness flooding through her, not understanding what’s happening or who this man is. He enters her personal space without pausing, getting too close and violating every boundary.
“Wren Hayes, right?” he says. “We haven’t met.”
Before she can respond, he grabs her by the jaw and pulls her face toward him.
Inside her, I bristle, my protective instinct screaming to act. If it were up to me, I would tear him limb from limb for daring to touch her like this. I can feel that he’s an awful man. There’s something rotten and cruel underneath the expensive suit, and I hate that Wren has to be around men like him. I know this is her job, but she deserves so much better than this.
Wren sends a quick mental message before I can do something stupid:
“Don’t.”
I force myself to settle down, but I remain on high alert, watching everything, ready to explode the second she needs me.
The man studies Wren’s face while gripping her jaw, his green eyes roaming over her features.
“I’m Roman. Roman Kyzer. Are you as pleased to meet me as I am to meet you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Of course youare. But I had no idea you were such a pretty thing. Look at you. I thought I found myself a chemist, but you’re a minx, aren’t you? That red hair. Lovely.” He leans closer, breath hot on her face. “I always preferred redheads.”
“Let me go,” Wren whispers through gritted teeth.
Roman laughs. He releases her jaw and shoves her away, making her stumble backward. She catches herself against the workstation.
Roman walks to the cupboards and opens them to reveal rows upon rows of glowing crimson vials. He picks one up, holds it to the light, and watches the liquid shimmer.
“Good job. My father will be pleased.” He sets the vial down and turns to face Wren with a satisfied smirk. “It’s his birthday tomorrow, you see, and I’m going to give him the best present. He’s hard to impress, my father. And he never really takes me seriously. But he will now. His youngest son, saving his Crimson empire.”
He turns fully to Wren and points a finger directly at her.
“And you helped me. Proved yourself useful. A skilled chemist indeed. How would you like to join the party tomorrow?”
Wren’s eyes widen. She despises this man, but she just gained crucial intelligence. This is Roman Kyzer, youngest son of the Kyzer boss. FBI intel confirmed the boss had three sons, and she’s just identified one of them standing right before her. This is a breakthrough for her mission and a chance to meet family leadership at a gathering where everyone important will be present.
She swallows her pride and keeps her voice steady.
“I would be honored.”
