Page 15

CHAPTER 15

CLARICE

I ’m slumped in the driver’s seat, my hands clutching the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart. Tears blur my vision, and I don’t even bother wiping them away. The weight of everything—Silas, my mom, Simon, the lies, the fear—presses down on me until I feel like I can’t breathe. I choke on a sob, my shoulders shaking as I let it all out.

That’s when a shadow falls over me. I jerk my head up, my breath catching in my throat. Simon stands there, his broad frame blocking out the fluorescent lights of the parking garage. His gray eyes—always so sharp, so piercing—are soft now, filled with concern.

He doesn’t say anything, just yanks the car door open and kneels beside me. His arms wrap around me before I can even process what’s happening, pulling me into his chest. I freeze for a moment, then collapse against him, burying my face in his shirt.

“Shh,” he murmurs, one hand cupping the back of my head, his fingers tangled in my hair. “It’s alright, Clarice. I’ve got you.”

His voice is low, steady, and it makes the knot in my chest loosen just a little. I cry harder, my fists clutching the fabric of his jacket. He doesn’t rush me, doesn’t try to make me stop. He just holds me, his other hand rubbing slow circles on my back.

When the tears finally slow, I pull back slightly, my face still wet. Simon brushes a strand of hair from my cheek, his thumb lingering for a moment. “Tell me,” he says, his voice firm but gentle.

I take a shaky breath. “Silas,” I start, my voice hoarse. “He… he hired me. To spy on you. That’s why I took the job. I didn’t?—”

“I know,” he interrupts, his tone calm.

I blink up at him. “You knew?”

His lips curve into a small, knowing smile. “Clarice, I’ve been doing this a long time. I knew from the start. But I also knew you weren’t malicious. You were just… caught.”

The weight of his words hits me, and I feel a fresh wave of tears welling up. “And my mom—she showed up today. She’s in rehab. She wants to reconnect. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

Simon tilts my chin up, his gaze steady. “She’s your mother. That’s complicated, but it doesn’t have to be bad. Maybe this time, she’s serious.”

I nod, swallowing hard. Then, before I can stop myself, the words spill out. “I love you, Simon. I … I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now.”

His expression softens, and for the first time, I see something vulnerable in his eyes. “Clarice,” he says, his voice rough. “I love you too. I have for a long time.”

The words hit me like a fist, and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. Simon leans in, his lips brushing mine in a kiss so tender it makes my heart ache. I kiss him back, my fingers curling into the lapels of his jacket.

When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his. “What happens now?” I whisper.

“Now,” he says, his voice steady, “we keep living our lives. Together. Your mother is a complication, but not necessarily a bad one. We’ll figure it out.”

I smile, my heart swelling. “You’re the perfect man, you know that?”

He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound. “I’m not even a man.”

“Close enough,” I tease, and he grins before capturing my mouth in another kiss. This time, it’s not tender—it’s hungry, possessive, and it sets my whole body on fire. His hands tighten on my waist, and I slide closer, my fingers tangling in his hair.

The world outside the car fades away, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like everything’s going to be okay.

Shomun’s compad buzzes, the sound sharp and urgent. He pulls it from his pocket, his jaw tightening as he reads the message. His eyes flick to me, then back to the screen.

“Pyke needs me at Alpha Base. Now.” His voice is clipped, but I can hear the edge of worry beneath it.

“Why? What’s going on?” I ask, stepping closer.

“The attempt on my life. They want a full report in person.” He pockets the compad and grips my shoulders, his gaze locking onto mine. “You stay here. Do not leave this office. Do you understand?”

I nod, but my stomach churns. “How long will you be gone?”

“Not long. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He leans in, his lips brushing my forehead. “Mira will keep you safe.”

As if on cue, Mira appears in the doorway. Her usual calm demeanor is replaced with something harder, fiercer. “On my honor,” she says, her voice low and steady, “no harm will come to her.”

Shomun gives her a curt nod, then strides out the door. I watch him go, my heart pounding.

The moment the elevator doors close, Mira turns to me. “Hungry? I was thinking takeout.”

I blink. “Uh, sure. What do you—wait, Mira, are you… like him?”

Her lips curve into a smile. “Not exactly. He’s indigo. I’m red.”

“Red?”

She walks to the desk, picking up the phone to order. “My scales. When I’m not disguised as this.” She gestures at her human form.

I sink into a chair, my mind racing. “So, you’re… Vakutan too.”

“Guilty.” She winks. “But don’t worry, I’m not as grumpy as he is.”

I can’t help but laugh. “That’s a low bar.”

We order Vietnamese from a place down the street, and soon the office smells like lemongrass and cilantro. Mira grabs a pair of chopsticks and leans back in her chair, twirling them between her fingers like a pro.

“You’ve got to teach me how to do that,” I say, fumbling with my own chopsticks.

“Step one: don’t look like you’re trying to stab your food.”

I smirk. “Very helpful.”

We fall into easy conversation, and for a while, it’s almost normal. We talk about Shomun’s obsessive punctuality, his habit of correcting grammar mid-sentence, and his inexplicable love for 90s R&B.

“He once made me listen to Luther Vandross for three hours straight,” Mira says, rolling her eyes. “I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

“He sang Dance with My Father to me once,” I admit, grinning. “It was… oddly sweet.”

“Sweet? He’s a walking grudge with scales.”

We’re both laughing when the alarm goes off. A sharp, piercing sound that makes my ears ring. Mira’s chopsticks clatter to the table, and she’s on her feet in an instant.

“Get under the desk. Now.”

“What’s happening?”

“That alarm means a Grolgath is near.” Her voice is calm, but her eyes are hard. “Move, Clarice.”

Something flickers in the corner of my eye—a slithering movement, brown and sinuous, sliding in through the ventilation duct. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. "Mira," I whisper, my voice trembling. "Uh... what’s that?"

She turns, her human disguise flickering for a moment to reveal the red scales beneath. Her eyes narrow as the snake coils and shifts, its form expanding, morphing into a hulking reptilian figure. Brick. His brown scales glint under the fluorescent lights, his massive frame dwarfing the room.

"I’m taking the human woman," Brick says, his voice a low rumble. He glances at Mira, his lips curling into what might pass for a smirk. "Don’t get in my way, beautiful."

Mira steps between us, her posture rigid, her hands curling into fists. "You’re not taking Claire. And flattery’s not going to work on me, scales or no scales."

He shrugs, like he’s bored already. "Your funeral."

Mira moves first—a blur of red and fury. She’s fast, her strikes precise, landing blows to his ribs, his jaw, his throat. Brick stumbles back, but he’s grinning now, like she’s just buzzing around him. He swings a fist, and even though she ducks, the sheer force of it sends her reeling. She recovers fast, but I can see the toll it’s taking. Her breaths are coming harder now, her movements slower.

Brick lands a punch, and it’s like a wrecking ball hitting a brick wall. Mira crashes into the desk, the wood splintering under her weight. She doesn’t get up.

"Stop!" I scream, my voice echoing in the suddenly silent room. My hands scramble across the desk until they close around the obsidian letter opener Simon keeps there. I press the tip to my throat, the metal cold against my skin. "Let her go, or I’ll do it. I swear I will."

Brick pauses, tilting his head like he’s trying to figure me out. "You’d really off yourself for her?"

"Yes," I snap, my voice steady even as my hand shakes. "Now back off."

He laughs—a low, rumbling sound that sends a chill down my spine. "You’re kinda hardcore for a human. Alright, fine. I don’t like hurting chicks anyway. But if you resist, I’ll make an exception."

He tosses Mira aside like she’s a ragdoll, and she crumples to the floor. I want to rush to her, but Brick’s already striding toward me, his massive hand closing around my arm. The letter opener clatters to the floor.

"Let’s go," he growls, dragging me toward the door.

I glance back at Mira, my heart pounding. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the frustration, the helplessness. She’s alive, but she’s in no shape to stop him.

Brick pulls me into the hallway, his grip like iron. I stumble, trying to keep up with his long strides. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even seem to care if I’m struggling. He just drags me toward the waiting van, its engine idling like a predator ready to pounce.