I could walk these halls blind, but now every detail is sharp, dangerous, like the edges of a straight razor. I’m acutely aware of how close she is, how her perfume—orange blossom and something sweeter—sticks in my lungs and won’t let go.
We stop at a lacquered door: Veronique Bisset, Manager.
I knock, twice.
“Enter,” comes the voice. French, imperious, but velvet-smooth.
Veronique is sitting at her desk, stacked with papers and antique pens, a silver laptop humming quietly to her left. She’s older—late fifties, I’d guess—but her hair is black, sleek, and her cheekbones could cut stone. The office is intimidating: mahogany everywhere, books bound in leather, a chandelier like a frozen cloud above our heads.
“Ah, Monsieur McCarren. You are early.” She looks at Daisy, eyes narrowing a fraction, then flicks to me with a question unspoken.
“Madame Veronique, may I present Daisy.” I make it sound normal, like I do this every day.
Daisy blushes, bobbing her head. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Veronique’s mouth does a half-smile. “The pleasure is mine. Sit, both of you.” Her voice drops, gentle. “Would you like tea, Daisy?”
Daisy nods, uncertain.
Veronique pours from a glass pot into delicate cups. “You are safe here. No one will harm you.” Her gaze lingers on the bandage at Daisy’s temple. “I understand you suffered an accident.”
Daisy sips the tea, fingers trembling. “I—I don’t remember much. Just waking up in the street. Hunter found me. He saved me.”
Veronique’s eyes flick to me, then back to Daisy. “That is fortunate. He is not always so heroic.” It’s a joke, but the edge is real.
Daisy giggles, nervously, then sobers. “I don’t even know who I am, or how to start over. Everything is blank.”
Veronique leans forward, hands folded. “Memory is a fragile thing. But you are young, and strong. We will help you recover. In the meantime, Sanctum will be your home.” Her smile widens. “If you are amenable, of course.”
Daisy’s shoulders sag, relief softening her. “Thank you. I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she murmurs.
“We’ll figure it out, together. There are rules, of course. Privacy is sacred here. You do not ask about the guests, and they do not ask about you.” She glances at me. “And you will refrain from mischief, Monsieur McCarren.”
I put on my best innocent face. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Madame.”
“Of course not,” Veronique deadpans, and sets her eyes on Daisy again. “You may rest as long as you wish. If you feel up to it, there are opportunities to contribute. Nothing dangerous. But we will discuss this when you are well.”
Daisy nods, grateful. I see it in the way she relaxes, the way her breath comes easier. For the first time in twenty-four hours, she’s not on the verge of collapse.
Madame Veronique turns to her screen, tapping a note to the staff. “I have instructed them to bring you clothes, toiletries,whatever you require. And if you need to speak with me, I am always here. Yes?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Daisy says, her voice small but sincere.
Veronique inclines her head, satisfied. “Monsieur McCarren, you have work,non?”
I take the hint. “Yes, that’s right.”
I stand, and Daisy stands with me, unsure. Veronique returns to her emails, already lost in her own world.
In the hallway, Daisy leans into my side. She looks up at me, her blue eyes clear as sky, and my heart beats too fast, too loud.
“Are you really leaving me?” she says. Her lip trembles. I want to bite it.
“I have to get to the office,” I say, not a lie but not the whole truth.
She takes my hand, squeezes hard. “Will you come back?”
“Of course,” I say, even though I’m not sure I should. “Here, take my number,” I say, pressing a card into her hand. “Call any time.”
