He turned me back around, his hands gentle as he washed me with a tenderness that made my chest ache. He took his time, his touch reverent as he ran the soapy cloth over every inch of my skin. When he was done, he dried me off with the same care, his hands lingering on my body as if he couldn’t bear to let me go.
Then he led me to the bed, pulling me down beside him and wrapping his arms around me in a way that made me feel safe, protected. We lay there in silence for a while, just listening to the sound of each other’s breathing.
“Do you want this?” he asked finally, his voice soft but serious. “The claiming mark? I need to know how you feel about it.”
I turned to look at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “I want it,” I said, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. “I want to be yours in every way.”
He smiled then, a slow, satisfied smile that made my stomach flip. “Good. Because you’re mine, little bird. Forever. I just didn’t want to take away your choice in this. I know you’re my mate. I’ve known it for a while now.”
“I believe that also. I’ve always felt a connection to you. It became an unexplainable pull when I saw your face that night in my bedroom. That’s why I wasn’t afraid of you. Not really. I just felt like I was yours.”
“When this is all over, I’m going to claim you. I’d like to do it properly, with a ceremony, if you’re up for that.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was so traditional. Almost nobody did claiming ceremonies anymore. I wanted nothing more than to honor him in this way. “Eli,” I choked on my tears. “I think that is a beautiful idea. I would love that.”
We fell asleep like that, wrapped up in each other, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt content. Safe. Loved.
But the peace didn’t last.
I woke to sunlight in my eyes, my mouth dry as dust, and the familiar bony elbow of Rocket pressed to my hip through the comforter. For a few sweet, confused seconds, I thought I was homealone and that everything from the last month—the violence, the threats, the collar of bruises—was just a dream.
Then Wrecker came out of the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips, hair wet, and I remembered who and what I was.
He glanced at me, saw I was awake, and said, “Hey beautiful. I think you need to rise and shine. Looks like you’re late.”
“Hi handsome. Late for what?”
“War,” he said, and grinned, the scar on his chin twisting with the rest of his mouth. “Get up, Wren. The bank logs are lighting up.”
He wasn’t joking. My phone on the nightstand, vibrated with a steady, epileptic pulse. I grabbed it and started scrolling before my feet hit the floor.
Dozens of alerts: pings from three separate accounts, a spike in activity in the Greenbriar ledger. The worm was working, and it looked like Silas must be checking to see how his accounts were growing. We needed to be sure everything looked normal to his eyes.
I crawled out of bed, tripped over Rocket, and headed to my office nook. Wrecker had made coffee—strong enough to kill a horse—and left the pot on the warmer. I poured a cup, burned my tongue, and dove straight into the logs.
I lost three hours that way. The outside world dissolved into screen glare and the low drone of Wrecker’s voice as he made phone calls from my living room, always short, always quiet. When he wasn’t on the phone, he hovered over my shoulder, watching the code scroll by, eyes flicking up and down my neck like he wanted to bite me just to keep me in one place.
I ignored him. I ignored everything but the lines of code and the chase.
I switched to the camera feeds that Wrecker had given me access to. The hallways were clear. Silas’s office was dark. I didn’t see anybody around.
“Wrecker,” I called. “Do you think it’s odd that I’m not seeing any activity on any of the cameras I planted?”
He walked up behind me and frowned. “Not necessarily. They’ve been spending most of their time in their war room. Check the camera you put on Silas’s laptop.”
When I switched the feed to that camera, it came up static.
“Shit, what does that mean?”
“It means that the only problem with those micro-cams is that they are easily dislodged. He may have tossed his laptop into his bag, and the camera was knocked off and disabled.”
“Damn it. So we’ve lost that access. That sucks ass.”
He grinned at me. “It does, but there are several other cameras. Keep your eyes peeled for any little thing. But don’t just stay there. You’ll drive yourself nuts if you do.”
A cold, greasy dread uncurled in my gut. “I just have a weird feeling something is up.”
Wrecker didn’t answer. Instead, he paced to the front window and looked out, silent and predatory.
