Wren comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a white towel, and she frowns at me. I don’t understand what the problem is at first, but then I see her staring at the tatters of her clothes on the floor. The only things left intact are her bra and her Louboutin shoes. Everything else is shredded beyond repair.
“Well,” she says without humor, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now.”
I feel again like I’ve messed everything up and it’s all my fault. I’m so angry at myself that I want to punish myself physically, want to bang my head against the wall until I’m unconscious, but I don’t do it because that would be unfair to Wren. She’s holding it together, and I’m not even trying.
“I’ll go to the drugstore,” I tell her. “Buy everything you need.”
I don’t wait for her reply. I melt into a pool of black tar and slide across the carpet toward the door. I slip under the gap at the bottom, and as I move into the corridor in liquid form, I knock into something. It’s a duffle bag. I realize it’s Wren’s, and I slip back into the room and materialize in front of her.
She gasps, startled. “Well, that was fast.”
I shake my head and open the door, letting her see the bag sitting in the hallway.
She grins widely.
“It seems Dale left it for me. How thoughtful of him. I won’t lie, so far it looks like these mafia guys are very organized. I suppose that’s another reason why it’s called organized crime?”
She laughs at her own silly joke and grabs the bag, bringing it inside. She starts rummaging for clean clothes.
“But it’s a little concerning that they know what room I’m in,” she sighs.
I watch her as she gets dressed.
“I’ll go report to your handler now. That is, if you don’t want me with you at the drugstore.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assures me. “For now, I think we’ll have a peaceful night. No one is going to bother us, so you can go and report about the mission, tell the FBI everything we’ve learned since I was kidnapped. I’ll go to the drugstore and that’s it. I won’t go anywhere else.”
I need to speak to Tom, but hopefully, I’ll get to see Captain Holt. Surely, the FBI is worried about her. I also think this is a great opportunity for me to flee and be alone with my thoughts for a time. I need to get it together before I mess up even more and Wren realizes how much of a fuck-up I am, regains her senses and rejects me.
Before I turn to liquid, I pull her in close and wrap my arms around her. I place a lingering kiss on her forehead.
“You’re wonderful. I’ve never met a woman like you, and I don’t deserve you.”
“Zeth–” she starts to say, wanting to contradict me.
I press a finger to her mouth to stop her. I don’t want to hear her say I deserve her, because I know the truth about myself, about what I am and what was done to me.
I collapse into a pool of liquid at her feet.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Wren
I stand at my workstation in the underground laboratory, staring at the ingredients spread before me. It’s early, but I couldn’t sleep, and since Dale is undead and was waiting for me in the hotel lobby anyway, I figured… why not?
My mind won’t stop circling back to Zeth and what happened at the party, remembering how he shut down the moment he saw Olivia Kyzer. Every time my thoughts drift there, I force them away. The last thing I want is for him to know I’m becoming obsessed with this issue and can’t stop thinking about the woman who traumatized him.
He’s inside me right now, merged with my body, and my constant thoughts about Viktor’s wife must be disturbing him.
I focus on the five ornate boxes sitting on the counter instead. Each one is made of ebony wood decorated with gold filigree, and inside each box is dark velvet cradling a single phoenix feather. The feathers glow like they’re made of fire, casting warm orange light on the surface around them. I trace the edge of one box with my finger, appreciating that Viktor Kyzer knows how precious these feathers are and made special boxes for them. I hate that I have to use them to make drugs, though. It is what it is.
The door to the lab bangs open so suddenly that I jump and press my hand to my heart.
Roman strides in carrying a laptop and a stack of papers under his arm. He’s practically vibrating with energy, cocky and excited, like he has it all figured out and this is finally his moment.
“Good morning, partner!” he says cheerfully.
“Partner?”
