Page 35 of Song Bird Hearts (Green River Hearts #4)
Wolf
I walk back in like I never left, even temporarily.
I’m wearing my signature crisp back suit.
I’m clean-shaven. I’m calm like a still pond, all my emotions locked down tight.
The Wolf these people know is brutal and unforgiving.
The Wolf these people know doesn’t look at a woman the way I look at Valerie Decatur.
I can’t let them see that Wolf. It’s for her eyes, and her eyes alone.
One of the many headquarters of the Foundation is tucked into the bones of an old observatory outside Pheonix.
It’s glass and steel buried in the desert rock, beautiful in that sterile, dead way.
It’s the kind of beauty you stare at too long before you realize it wants to bury you.
As large as this place is, most people don’t even know it exists, assuming it’s some rich people’s luxury getaway or some high-class hotel.
No one ever checks into the details twice. Most don’t even check once.
I don’t flinch when they scan my ID at the door, don’t blink when the guards raise an eyebrow.
It’s not unusual for me to be gone for months at a time, moving between the 27 Foundation’s many properties depending on the time of year.
There shouldn’t be any surprise about me being here even if it’s the wrong time of year, but the guard, despite his initial reaction, doesn’t say anything.
They let me through. Because even here—especially here—I still hold weight. Another high ranking cog in their machine. But not for long. Not anymore.
The vault is on the third sublevel. I know the path like the back of my hand and have made the same trip a thousand times in the last few years.
I’ve walked this same path with blood on my shoes once, a Foundation mission in Istanbul, one no one talks about.
Hell, no one really talks about anything here.
That’s how secrets are kept. That’s how they’ve remained in the shadows.
I’m not supposed to be back here, not really. And certainly not alone. It’s only a matter of time before someone shows up to ask questions. But I keep moving.
Because Valerie Decatur asked me for a storm, and I’m going to bring her one.
I pass all the checks, and my ID lets me in each and every lock.
No one stops me. No one says a word. By the time I make my way into the vault and I’m staring at all the lockers, I realize something is off.
I should have never made it this far, which means, they must want me to.
This is probably a trap. Despite that, I don’t stop.
I know what I’m looking for. I know which locked door I need.
I find it in Locker C-12, right where I expect it to be. It’s been locked behind biometrics and passcodes. Getting into the locker costs me a thumbprint.
Not mine.
Someone else’s. I don’t think the guy will be needing it anymore when the Foundation finds out it’s his I used.
I get a good look at it when I open the door and stare inside at the only item sitting on the shelf.
The black book isn’t just a ledger.
It’s a weapon.
The book is bound in cracked leather. There’s no title on the spine, just a strange, embossed and foiled sigil, one only inner-circle members know.
The number “27” is there, too, in case someone needed further clarification the sins this thing holds.
Inside is everything we need, everything Valerie needs, to disrupt everything.
I’m just tucking the book into the lining of my coat when the door behind me opens and I tense.
I’d known something was off, known this was too easy, and yet still, I’m surprised when that door opens and he walks in.
I didn’t even know he’s in town, that my chances of running into him were high.
I might have thought of a better plan if I had.
Victor Mallace.
The name hits like a blade to the gut. He steps through the vault door slowly, deliberate, like a man who’s been waiting a long time to settle a grudge.
He still wears the same gloves, all black leather and scuffed knuckles that I’ve always seen him in.
He still moves like a soldier left too long in the field.
The man is one of the Foundation’s top cleaners.
When he smiles, you can tell he enjoys hurting people.
Someone like him doesn’t belong anywhere near my little star, and I’m going to make sure he never gets the chance to go after her.
Because if he leaves here alive, they’ll send him. They always send him.
“Thought I smelled something rotten,” Victor drawls, stepping fully into the light. “You always did stink of sentiment.”
“Victor,” I say smoothly. “Still doing the Foundation’s dirty laundry?”
Victor’s grin widens. “You always thought you were better than us just because you’re up there with the suits. You aren’t. And I’m going to enjoy bloodying up that pretty face.”
The door slides shut behind him with a hiss, locking us in together.
“Good to know you think I’m pretty,” I reply, my expression hard.
“How long you gonna pretend you’re clean enough to deserve that woman?” Victor asks, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. “She’s an enemy of the Foundation. Which makes you a traitor. You know what they say about traitors.”
“Yeah,” I say, slowly undoing my cufflinks and tucking them into my pocket. “They’re usually right.”
We launch at each other without further conversation.
I strike first, quick and brutal. A punch to the throat.
A knee to the gut. I try to disable him rather than kill at first, mostly because I want him to hurt, but Victor isn’t built to fall easily.
The cleaner catches me mid-swing, twisting my arm violently behind my back before slamming me face first into the metal wall.
My vision explodes with stars and it reminds me of Valerie, a blissful moment behind all the pain.
I throw my elbow back, wild, but Victor ducks and drives his fist into my ribs instead.
The crack is loud in the room, like a gunshot going off too close to my ears.
The pain blooms white-hot a split second later.
I stagger when he shoves off of me, but I steady myself and prepare for more.
This won’t be an easy fight to win, not when he’s built like a tank.
Victor lunges, grabbing me by my coat and throwing me across the room.
I crash into a shelf of classified items, the contents raining down around me.
Something sharp pricks my arm in all the chaos, but I ignore it.
My hip growls in protest at me as I try to get back up.
“That the best you got?” Victor sneers, circling me. “I expected more from the famous Wolf.”
“Not even close,” I grunt, rising up slowly.
The second round is uglier.
I go low, diving forward like a bull, ramming Victor into the vault door. I slam my shoulder into his gut, jab him in the solar plexus, follow it up with a head butt that cracks Victor’s nose and makes my head ring.
But Victor just laughs despite the blood streaming down his mouth. “Still soft. Here you are, big man, weak for a woman whose blood belongs to the Foundation.” He wipes the blood off on the back of his sleeve. “She is a pretty thing, isn’t she? I wonder what she tastes like.”
“You’ll never know,” I snarl. “Because she belongs to me.”
Victor grabs me by the hair when I lunge for him, and I fight against his tight hold that threatens to scalp me.
He yanks me back and headbutts me twice, once to stun, once to maim.
I reel under the hits, trying to maintain my bearings in the midst of the pain.
Another punch to my face knocks me off my feet and into the wall. Pain blooms around my eyes.
Victor shoves me down hard, his boot to my chest, my ribs screaming. I wheeze, my vision swimming as I try to keep myself together. My hand reaches instinctively toward my belt as he presses me down.
Victor kicks my hand aside.
“You should’ve stayed gone,” Victor says, looming over me, panting. “You gave up everything for her.”
“Yes,” I cough out, smiling through blood. “And I’d do it again.”
Victor reaches for something at his back, but that’s when I move.
I surge up with a blade drawn from my boot and catch Victor under the ribs.
I shove it deep and twist, eager to stop him from going after my little star.
Victor screams, but I don’t stop. I pivot, using Victor’s massive weight against him, and slam him face-first into the vault wall.
Then I rip the blade out and drive it right into his neck, once, twice, three times.
Blood sprays across the metal, hot on my hands.
The massive man slumps with a gurgle, twitching as I stand over him, my chest heaving and my mouth full of iron.
My ribs are probably broken, at least some of them.
My eye is slowly swelling shut. My suit is torn and soaked in blood, both with mine and Victor’s.
The vault lights flicker just as an alarm begins to shriek.
I turn, grabbing the black book where it had flown from my jacket, and walk out of the vault without looking back.
Yes, I limp, but I move like a man who has just declared war. There won’t be many people of Victor’s caliber outside. I can handle security guards and whatever I need to so I can make it back to her.
I’ve gotten my first true taste of freedom, what that would look like beside Valerie, Knox, and Gilden, and I want it. I need it. Valerie needs it.
And I’ll do anything to give it to her.