Page 68 of Finding Her (Lore of the Fields #1)

“Mykie!” I pounded my fists on the frail metal of her door, half wondering why I didn’t just let myself in already.

Valuable seconds were ticking away before I could get back to Faeryn.

Had she been well enough for me to leave her?

She was healthy enough to argue with me, surely that was a good sign.

The handle clicked and squeaked, signaling the opening of the useless barrier. Anybody entering this house without consent was as good as dead.

“Come on in.” Mykie immediately turned on her heels and walked into her home. “I don’t have as much information as you’re going to want.” She sounded tired.

Her kitchen had only grown in madness since my last visit.

Newspaper clippings from towns all over the Western continent were pinned to cabinets and walls, most marked with red notes and many connected by thread.

She stood in the middle of the disaster and looked around, as if it made sense to her.

How many long hours had she spent pacing this kitchen, trying to sort through a civilization’s worth of current events to form a risk assessment for my mate?

Red “ X ”s marked the faces of those who had already been wiped from the face of the planet.

“Dr. Gable is in the area.” She frowned, gesturing to a newspaper with the “ too young looking for his ancient age ” face of a Thornian plastered on the front.

“Fuck, you don’t think he’s here for Faeryn?” I ran shaking fingers through my hair. The scientist-turned-politician was bad news.

“Hard to say.” Her eyes darted between clippings. “Searching for one person seems below his pay grade, but when that one person is a successful escapee from the energy plants and the grunts already in the area aren’t getting the job done…”

“Are you going to take him out?” I grew frustrated. What was the point of a secret society of political hitmen if they couldn’t eliminate a threat entering their own backyard?

“Ragen and the guys are on it. There’s not enough evidence that Dr. Gable’s here for Faeryn specifically for me to spend time focusing on him. Could be one of his many publicity tours, I don’t know.”

“So what do you know?” Impatience drove my tone. My eyes flicked to the industrial clock mounted over the doorway. I should have walked faster.

“In the decapitated Lychan’s satchel I found a card with information for one Cassius Ellery.” She confirmed my suspicion. I wished I had been wrong. “It has an address listed that’s located near the school.”

“Anything else?” I grit my teeth, their sharpness knocking together. I should be home .

“Clearly they’ve found her, Graysen. Cassius must have been some kind of non-violent solution, but if they’re sending brute force her way, it won’t stop. Get back to the house as soon as possible and take her far away.”

“I’m going to tell her everything.” I’d already been planning on it, but this urgency meant I’d be telling her everything immediately.

“Go home, Graysen. You won’t forgive yourself if she’s taken from your bedroom a second time. I don’t know why the fuck you thought coming here was a good idea. I told you I’d come to you.”

“You took too fucking long,” I bit, my palms singeing.

I couldn’t make informed decisions without data, and Mykie was the keeper of all data.

If she didn’t come to me with information, I had to show up here to get it.

That was the only way to maintain control.

One final chance to plan appropriately before doing what I had promised myself I would never do, for Faeryn’s sake—tell her about her past. Our past.

“You’re a real dumbass when you try to micromanage everything. You know that?”

Desperate rage ached my muscles. My hands burned.

I tried to remind myself that Mykie, although antagonizing, had a shared interest in protecting my mate.

She dedicated herself to monitoring the town, its people, and the E.A.R.T.H.

organization’s activities since the fateful day I brought Faeryn back home, above and beyond what her job required.

Instead of targeting one individual at a time and discreetly removing them as her position usually called for, she’d applied her skills to the masses to establish a safe community for my Little Fae.

I turned to leave, Mykie slammed her hand down on the counter. I opened my mouth to growl in reciprocated aggression, but she had thrown a newspaper down.

“I talked to Stella the night Faeryn was attacked. She said Faeryn was upset about your reaction to a Mr. Donnar.”

Surely this conversation could wait. “He’s harmless,” I muttered. “Cross him off your suspect list. I was just mad.”

“I’m not worried he’s gonna hurt her.” She pointed one finger down at the newspaper.

I looked suspiciously into Mykie’s black eyes before taking what I now saw was the obituary segment, realization creeping over me.

Sure enough, there he was. My face pinched in pain.

The last thing I said to a male I sawregularly for nearly a decade was a threat.

I would hardly say that I liked him, but I recognized him as a complicated person with decent intentions.

That was something we had in common. He didn’t deserve to die so suddenly.

“What are you implying?” I asked darkly.

“Did you do this?”

“Absolutely not.” I bared my teeth at the accusation. “It was only a matter of time, Mykie! Do you have any clue how many bouts of alcohol poisoning he survived? Cutting him off was down to a science at the bar. We can’t control what he does at his own home.”

I hoped it hadn’t been Faeryn to serve him his final drink. I should’ve stepped in. Part of me never wanted Faeryn to learn about this, but I was done keeping secrets. I would tell her gently, and do what I could to convince her it wasn’t her fault.

Her expression smoothed. “Alright. I believe you.”

“I need to get home.” I shoved the page back towards her. “I’m taking Faeryn to Eitrea tonight. I don’t think it will ever be safe enough for her here.”

My heart ached. I might never see Mykie again, but I was convinced a normal existence wasn’t in the cards for my mate and me.

She deserved the community she had always wanted—I tried everything to provide it—but it wasn’t worth her life.

I would find a way to make her happy on her home island, and we would grow old together amongst the trees and the dragons.

We would have each other, if nothing else.

I blinked, and Mykie’s arms were wrapped around my waist. She had never touched me affectionately, much less hugged me.

I returned her embrace, encircling her shoulders with my arms and leaning my head into the smooth black hair of my dearest friend.

I loved Faeryn more than anything and anyone, but there was room in my heart for more than one person.

Mykie and Theo saved me from myself. They’d leave voids that would never heal.

“Maybe we can find an isolated island halfway between us to meet once a year,” she mumbled into my shoulder. “I can send Ragen to figure out the details so I don’t, you know, get eaten by a dragon when trying to contact you.”

I laughed, as a tear dripping down my cheek. “I’d love that.” If putting my trust in Ragen meant I could keep Mykie in my life, I’d do it.

“Go fill in your mate on everything. Get out of here safely.” Mykie leaned back to smile at me. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

I jogged home, inclined to hurry. How would I even begin to start filling in the blanks for Faeryn? There would be a lot of apologizing to do, not to mention justifying, so she didn’t think I was a total psychopath. I might need to dig some real, physical evidence out of my office.

Fae. I’m sorry for everything.

We’re married.

I put you in danger.

You are magical. You can heal. Because of that, a powerful organization kidnapped you from our home to be used as a profitable energy source.

Keeping these secrets from her had always been excruciating, but there’d been some relief in knowing I’d never need to say the terrible words.

That she lost everything because of me. I would fumble my way through this—hopefully convincingly.

It would be an uphill battle for her to believe me, but we’d need to climb that mountain quickly.

I knocked three times on the door—our signal—and waited. And waited. Was she taking a awhile, or was my sense of time warped by panic? I counted to fifty before knocking again. My throat grew tight; this was too long. She was expecting me.

I pulled my key out to unlock the door and hesitated. My eyes squeezed shut. Please be bolted.

The key slid in, and I turned it smoothly.

Too smoothly. Unlocked. That wasn’t how I had left it.

My vision flashed with images of returning from work to find our door wide open and our bedroom covered in blood.

My hands shook, recalling how they’d ignited the evidence of our life together in a blind rage.

The furniture she had selected so happily.

The blankets that still smelled like our most recent lovemaking.

The fur rug I had gotten her as a gift because she enjoyed the pelts in my carriage so much.

It was all destroyed in the blaze of my devastation.

Desperate to preserve our home for her return, I had addressed the rapidly spreading fire as quickly as I could.

I had promised her I would build us a life together. I couldn’t let my rage destroy that.

The evidence of her struggle scarred our nest with excruciating freshness when I had entered our old bedroom.

A freshness that might have made it possible to catch up to them, had I not wasted precious moments trying to rescue the little brick house.

If I had let it burn to the ground and followed those tire tracks sooner, maybe there would have been more to go on. Instead, the trail ran cold.

The only record of my mate ever existing was the missing person report I filed on a female who, according to the government, never existed.

I blinked away the flashbacks, determined not to squander her retrieval by taking too long again.

I scanned the downstairs first, grateful to find no evidence of a break-in or struggle.

As my head rose over the top stairs, I noticed the open doorframe of our original bedroom.

Odd. Had they broken into that room, thinking we were still sleeping in there?

I looked closer. There were boot prints besides the knob.

Small ones? And the door had been caved in from the hallway. Odd.

I turned to the bedroom, but averted my eyes quickly.

All these years later, and I still couldn’t look at the evidence of my failure.

The mere idea of seeing her blood splattered across the walls made me sick.

This cursed room represented everything I hated about myself.

I hadn’t been there to protect her, and my lost temper cost her valuable time that could have been spent on rescue efforts.

Had she been conscious the entire trip to the facility, wondering where I was and when I would be coming for her?

All the while, I’d been extinguishing the house. I should have let it burn.

I forced myself to take a hurried glimpse through the haunted remnants of my past. My suspicions were confirmed.

There was no fight. Nothing had stirred in my absence.

Faeryn must have seen the grisly ruin, a glimpse into the past, and left on her own free will.

It was the very thing I’d been working so hard to prevent.

I flung myself down the stairs and back into the streets.

I would find her and explain everything.

She was probably safe somewhere familiar and close.

Even if she wasn’t, I would not let history repeat itself.

I was no longer alone, I hadn’t lost my cool, and she’d only just left.

It would work in my favor this time. We would be safely snuggled in our favorite tree by nightfall tomorrow. All I needed to do was find her.