“Not that he would have, butshedidn’t know that,” I explain. Cyrus falls back a step or two, but he’s still watching Egan with suspicion.
“She was also quick to remind me that I didn’t have to take over the club, and within days, rumors were spreading that I was holding trials for a replacement when I never confirmed it. Seems a little coincidental, and I’m now dealing with handfuls of nomads who think they are going to get my territory.”
“I haven’t heard anything about trials. It may be the lure is only passed to those desperate enough to try such a feat.”
“Well, there have been several crossing my borders. There’s also the fact that we’re fairly certain someone who was close to him, maybe someone he trusted, had to be involved. Now who is Adder?” I question for the last time.
Cyrus’ stony exterior melts away, and he stumbles, proving he’s more worn out than I expected, and yet he was still willing to battle with Egan because he thought he might have tried to hurt me. I don’t know if I feel flattered or want to smack him upside the head.
Egan reaches out, catching the gargoyle and helping him regain his footing. He looks back at me, and I swear I hear his thoughts.He wouldn’t have lasted a second.I snort because I was thinking the same thing.
“Let’s get you home. I hope you don’t have anything against churches.” Some gargoyles refuse to live on consecrated grounds, but I’ve always found solace in the hallowed places. “We can talk after you’ve rested.” I don’t give him time to argue, instead, I step over to the door and pull it open. “Modeus.” As if my eyes know right where to find him, I zero in on my prince.
He rises from the bar, leaving everyone else behind and making quick work of meeting me. I run my hand down his chest, giving in to the temptation to touch him and say, “We’re leaving. Can you bring my bike to the garage?”
Modeus doesn’t ask any questions, but he does kiss my upturned lips softly before walking away.
I wave at Salvador to tell him goodbye. My anger at him is fading, though it’s not completely gone.
After retreating back into the office, I close the door. I’ve been avoiding Harlow’s apartment for days. I know I should search it—hell, there might be a clue as to what happened right in front of my face—but it feels like it’s too soon to invade his privacy, like I’d expect him to walk through the door the moment I got inside, but I know that won’t happen and it’s going to hurt.
Getting Cyrus out of the club without everyone seeing that he looks three shades too pale and might need help to get on the back of my bike is more important than my feelings right now. Besides, I’m just passing through.
“I’m fine,” Cyrus tells Egan, but his words lack conviction.
Our bond should have helped him, but he must have really overdone it to get here. I step into Egan’s way and put myself under Cyrus’ arm so he is touching me while I help hold him up. “Don’t bother with the bullshit. If you turn one more time, you might not make it back.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t argue, he even leans on me a little as we head toward Harlow’s apartment door. I hand my key to Egan. “It’s the gold one.”
The fallen pushes the door open and walks in before I can, looking left and right as if he thinks there might be someone inside. Once he deems it safe, he steps to the side, and I try to avoid looking at everything as I make my way to the back staircase. It might be cruel, but I think I’ll ask Modeus and Cyrus to look through this place. They both knew him, and maybe even better than me.
The steps down to the garage are a little hard to maneuver, but only because they weren’t designed for two people our size to walk down side by side. Egan loses patience after three steps, turns around, and shoves his shoulder into Cyrus’ gut before hoisting him up over his shoulder.
Cyrus grunts, but he’s too weak to protest much more.
I can smell the oil and grease before my foot hits the garage floor. It reminds me so much of Harlow, my gut tightens along with my throat. I tell myself not to look around, but I’m helpless not to. There are spare parts and rags littering every available surface. It looks like a disorganized mess, but I would be willing to bet he knew exactly where everything was down to the valve stem under one of the tables.
My chest hurts when I try to take my next breath. This is nearly as bad as seeing him frozen in stone. I jump when the metal door rattles, looking around only to realize I haven’t made it but a few steps into the space.
Egan crouches with Cyrus still on his shoulder and hauls up the garage door with a rattling whoosh.
Modeus ducks under the door before it’s all the way open and hauls his ass across the concrete floor in a jog. A sad smile tries to cover my face when I realize it’s my pain that has him in such a rush to get to me. “Sorry.” My voice is nasally, and my throat is too tight to fight it.
“Do not say sorry to me!” he snaps, but I know he’s not mad at me.
“The last time I saw him, he was right there.” I look over at a shitty little stool. The black vinyl is cracked, showing tufts of cotton that used to be white, and one of the wheels looks rusted in place. He could have used any fucking stool he wanted, there are four others tucked under a table, but he kept that one because I gave it to him.
In my head, I always told myself I would get him another, something more comfortable for him to sit on when he spent hours in here, but I never got around to it.
I can still see him, with fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a scruffy beard that never seemed to change, hiding a small smile that hardly anyone but me was fortunate enough to know well.
A sob leaves my lips, and I rush to cover my mouth with my fist. The ache in my chest only gets worse, and I’m forced to let out a long, shuddering breath. It takes me a moment, but I pull my gaze from the empty stool and focus on Modeus’ bright blue eyes, which are widened in what I can only call panic.
If I weren’t so sad, it would be funny. “I need to get out of here.” Normally, saying something like that would make me feel weak, but not right now, and not to him.
He reacts so swiftly, I’m taken by surprise as Modeus wraps his arms around my back and hauls me out of the garage with the toes of my boots trailing on the ground. He slams the door down behind us as if it will help cut off the hurt I’m experiencing.
I tuck my face into his neck, not ready to let go, and then I feel a warm presence behind me. When I dare to look, I see Egan with an unconscious Cyrus still over his shoulder as he towers over my back, blocking anyone who might be able to see us, but there’s no one around. This was Harlow’s private entrance in the back alley, so no one would dare linger around here.
