Page 18

Dr. Stephens rode with Damen and me after dinner, and while the others conversed in the front seats, my mind drifted to another place. They were speaking too low and quickly for me to understand them, and it was easy to pretend not to care while I poked around on my phone.

Unknown Number

I still need to talk to you.

It was a message from a contact not listed in my very limited address book, but I knew who it was instantly.

How the heck did he find me?

Me

Go away.

I glared at my phone as I hit send. The nerve of this boy. Now he was all up defiling my Finn-free products.

Still, I shouldn’t block him. What if there was an emergency?

I pursed my lips and added him to my contacts, and now his name read Private Enemy Number One, as it should.

“Bianca,” Damen called, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I placed my phone face down on my lap. He was pulling into a parking lot outside of a red brick building. Due to the amount of police vehicles, I assumed this was the precinct.

“Okay,” he said, parking his vehicle. I could tell by his voice that he didn’t believe me. He turned off the car and glanced at Dr. Stephens, who was neatly placing a bunch of papers into a brown briefcase.

“Gregory and I need to run inside for a few minutes.” Damen looked back at me. “Would you mind waiting?”

“Sure,” I said and opened my phone once more. I was obviously not worthy of entering the law establishment. But that made sense. I had to prove myself first.

“There’s a park across the street,” Damen continued, inclining his head to the right. “Why don’t you caper about over there while you wait?”

I glanced toward it. Where was it that he wanted me to ‘caper,’ like some child? It’d better not be a playground.

Although it had been some time since I’d been on a swing.

However, the lush gardens were evident from here, and suddenly, it became much more important to be there than inside a stuffy building.

“Okay,” I said.

Dr. Stephens looked up, glancing between us, and addressed Damen, “Why are you talking to her like that?” he asked. “It’s not your concern what she does.”

Well, I didn’t need to be here for this conversation—I was confident that Dr. Stephens could handle Damen’s bossiness all on his own. Besides, Damen wanted to keep my involvement secret; he should deal with the good doctor.

“Bye,” I told them and exited the car.

I walked along the quaint cobblestone pathway as the sight and sounds of modern civilization fell further behind me. There was, indeed, a playground, but I ignored it in favor of the autumn foliage. The gardens were abundant and immaculately kept, making me wonder if the groundskeeper was fae too.

Probably. Everything else appeared to be a part of this supernatural society.

How could I have been so na?ve?

We were nearing the end of September, so the area was rampant with mums, asters, and the occasional group of black-eyed Susans. I was lost in the sight and sounds as I rounded a corner and encountered an arch bridge over a pond.

“Stupid Finn,” I muttered, peering down into the water from the peak.

I couldn’t see the bottom, but it was pretty dark.

I’d bet someone with nefarious intentions could hide a lot of dead bodies in there without anyone noticing.

It was the perfect place, being right next to a police station and everything. No one would ever suspect.

I wouldn’t, however, wish Finn was down there too. That’d be too much. Still, I couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve to bring up things that we’d both agreed were better off forgotten about a time when I’d been so embarrassingly stupid.

The others could never find out. It would be so humiliating.

I turned, pressing my back to the railing, and pulled out my phone. I stared at Finn’s contact information—at Kogepan’s cute, angry expression. It was the best image I could find in the ten seconds it took to create his contact. I would have to adjust it later to something more fitting.

How much longer were Damen and Dr. Stephens supposed to be, anyway? It felt like forever since they’d left. Was Damen supposed to text me to let me know to come back? We hadn’t even discussed logistics, and I couldn’t even see the street—let alone the parking lot—from here.

“Hey!”

I looked up. A man stood at the foot of the bridge, pointing at me. His strawberry-blond ponytail bounced against his back as he stepped onto the wood. “Is your name Bianca?”

My mouth went dry, and I tucked my phone back into my pocket with shaking hands. I had no idea who this was. Why should I answer him?

“Duh,” a voice sounded directly behind me, and I jumped. There was a second person, a burly man with a buzz cut. “She clearly is.”

“Okay then,” Ponytail said, stepping forward.

I’d been stunned into silence by their arrival and unable to force my body to obey my screaming thoughts, but the determination on their faces and the stalking way they’d held themselves made my thoughts turn.

“L-leave me alone!” I ducked under Buzz’s arm and stepped back.

“No, can do,” Buzz replied, and suddenly, between the two of them, I felt so very small. “We’ve got a job to do. Why don’t you just come with us without a fight, and everyone—except maybe you—will be happy.”

Darn it, I knew it!

My mind raced, the world around me blurring. Adrenaline surged through my veins. The narrow space of the bridge seemed to close in on me, and I desperately searched for an escape. When the strawberry-blond ponytail moved for me, hand outstretched, I dodged and fell to the ground.

He missed me, but I wasn’t fast enough for them both. My heart was pounding in my throat as the one with the dark buzz cut grabbed my arm.

“Help!” I wasn’t sure why I was shouting; I hadn’t seen anyone around.

“Shut up!” He squeezed my arm and dragged me to my feet. His throaty voice had become harsher, causing my hair to rise. “Let’s leave,” he told his friend. “Quick, before someone comes!”

The tall trees blurred together—red, oranges, and yellows mixed with chestnut—filled my vision, and panic threatened to bury me alive. I was stunned and quiet as I stumbled along, unable to register what was happening.

But then, as a cold breeze brushed my face, the spell broke.

“No!” I protested, and I pulled away. Apparently, they hadn’t expected the sudden movement, and my captor’s grip slipped. He turned, grasping for my sleeve, but missed.

“Shit!” the blonde cursed, but I was already fleeing. “Get her,” he said.

Run.

I moved on instinct as a skill long since forgotten took over me. I loathed physical excursions and sweating at the best of times, but when I had no other choice, I was fast and a bit more agile than most. This was a life-or-death situation.

If they caught me, I would end up dead. I’d recognized the demeanor and the faint scent of chloroform.

I had to run away. I had to hide.

I stumbled on the loose stone as I ran, and my palms slammed into the gravel before I regained my footing. There was nowhere to hide here. They were too close behind. I didn’t have enough of a head start. I could feel them on my heels already .

They would catch me.

‘ Run ,’ my mind urged once more. The need to obey could not be contained, and I fled through the gardens. I had to escape, to get somewhere safe. Please.

The wind whipped at my face, and branches tore at my ankles. The traffic did not reach me as I ran across the street toward the red brick buildings with black-framed doors.

The sliding entrance barely opened in time as I stumbled into the lobby, and I did not see him. But he had to be here, somewhere. My thoughts were wild and scattering. Panic controlled my movements.

There were lights and motion around me. But I couldn’t focus, couldn’t see. There was a pull in the center of my chest, guiding me through hallways, stairs, and past office doors. Then, finally, like discovering light at the end of a dark tunnel, I saw him.

Damen was leaning with his hip braced over a large, auburn desk. He and Dr. Stephens were speaking to an older man who sat across them. Commotion echoed around me, but I didn’t care; the three looked up in alarm before I fell against Damen’s chest and held tight.

Safe.

Damen POV

A foreign feeling began to well in my chest as Bianca clung to me. I’d wrapped my arms around her shaking form without thinking and left everything else to the two Elders.

“Bianca?” I touched the back of her head. I needed to see her face, but I doubted she could process anything.

“Stand back, it’s fine—don’t touch her!” Joe stood, hands outstretched, as he addressed the onlookers. “You may all leave,” he added. The senior detective’s harsh voice demanded instant obedience as he glowered at the crowd. The space beside the four of us quickly emptied, and the door closed.

Bianca’s small form continued to tremble against me as she held my shirt with a death grip, and the sound of her frantic breathing caused my concern to rise.

“She was outside,” Gregory told his fellow quintet member. “We sent her to wait across the street.”

Joe nodded and glanced at us, then left the room.

“Hey.” I moved us into a seat and began to stroke her hair. “Baby girl, it’s okay,” I promised her, and her sobbing began to ebb into soft sniffles. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”

Gregory frowned at us from his seat. The door opened—Joe had returned and sat back in his seat. The two stayed silent while we waited for Bianca.

“You’re okay,” I told her, and after what felt like ages, she began to hiccup and nodded against my chest, and finally, I was able to pull away.

Stands of her long hair fell in messy curls around her face—much different than the thick, neat braid she’d had earlier—and she was staring past me, at some point on the wall.

But what made my chest tighten the most was her eyes; normally expressive, the spring green were now glazed with overflowing tears.