Page 97 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)

ALPHA

Plastic was laid out over the kitchen island, and Wren sat cross-legged on top of the counter, bent over a ceramic urn that she was meticulously painting, and swatting at a curious Denver, who had already left a dark green paw print on the back.

Sarah spooned ice cream into her mouth as she leaned over the side of the counter, watching.

“Red, come on …” Brent said as he hopped off the last step of the stairs behind her. “Why is his fat ass on the clean kitchen counter? I know damned well he couldn’t have hopped up there himself.”

Wren held up a finger. “Strike one, Stratford.” Sarah chuckled and pulled the spoon from her mouth. “Spoon me, bitch,” she said, opening her mouth as Sarah shoveled some into it.

Brent snorted, and shook his head as he opened the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of water. “I know you need an outlet, but isn’t that why God made me?”

Wren scoffed, licking ice cream from her lip as she continued to paint. “No. That’s why God made Cherry Garcia…and fluffy cats.”

“Babe…he’s not fluffy. He’s—”

“Strike two!”

Sarah giggled, and pulled Denver off the counter, cradling him as he batted her nose.

Athan was sitting on Brent’s couch, stoic and quiet as he stared at three plastic garment bags hanging from the coat rack on the wall by the front door.

They’d agreed to spread half of Nell’s ashes, and Wren would make her a special urn for the rest. She’d be the most important piece in the new shop.

History would never forget this woman. Wren watched Sarah slide in next to him, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t shocked to see Athan Kane reach out and pet Denver.

He looked over as Brent laid his chin over the back of Wren’s shoulder.

“Your guy’s good, Stratford. How much do we owe you?” Athan asked.

“Not a dime,” Brent smiled. “I hope you three only have to wear those this once…and never again. But they should sparkle. My suit man is the best in Boston.”

“Cringe, Brent…but I’ll let it slide. Three strikes in less than ten minutes is really bad fucking form.” Wren slid a paint-stained hand over her shoulder and stroked his face as he nuzzled into her neck.

“Looks good,” he breathed, kissing her cheek.

Her phone buzzed next to her on the counter, and they both looked down at it.

Brent tensed, and it took her a second to understand why.

A heavily-tattooed man that looked polar opposite of Brent, and a very fitting ringtone that reflected her disposition towards somebody that could have been an ex-fling.

“Who is Dom? ” he asked…with a tone. Wren snickered, and met eyes with Sarah, who was suddenly very interested.

“Oh, put that shit on speaker. I wanna hear this,” she laughed.

“Would you mind?” Wren said, smiling at Brent as she wiggled painted fingers. He swiped the call open for her, and turned on the speaker, listening like he’d pommel whoever was on the other end. Jealousy on Brent was starting to be a little better color. It did something to her insides.

“Yes, I’m doing great. Thanks for asking. No, I don’t miss you. Will I return to your shithole tattoo shop…also, no.”

“Oh, we’re way past that notion, Vintorri. You cost me eight loyal clients, and now my counter girl. Or are you gonna tell me that wasn’t you?”

Wren smirked as she wiped her hands on a wet towel.

Brent nodded, she supposed, because he just figured out who Dom was.

“Well…if they left, then I’m assuming you’ve already figured out they weren’t loyal to you .

And yes…I guess in a way, I did. Although Leigh’s been a little less than happy to be there since way before you fired me.

You’re such a self-righteous asshole, Dominic. Why are you calling me?”

“You’d be nameless if it wasn’t for this apprenticeship, and you know it.” Brent’s fists clenched against the counter, and Wren laid a hand over one of them.

“Keep telling yourself that. It doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m calling, because I thought you’d like to know she packed her shit today and left me with a ton of work I don’t have time to do.

I don’t know why I fucking care, but I figured you would.

That box of said shit? I found it in the middle of the back alley where she normally parks her car.

You apparently have a knack for landing yourself in trouble.

Didn’t smell right to me. I don’t think Leigh would pack it up just to leave it out back.

Especially not those stupid-ass headphones. ”

Wren went still.

The unicorn headphones…she loved those.

All eyes were locked on her then, and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. What were the odds of one of those vamps coming back to claim Leigh, because they’d slaughtered them all the night Foley was killed?

“Security feeds?” Athan asked from the couch.

“Dom…is the camera out back still fucked up?” Wren asked, trying to hide the shake in her voice.

“Sorry, but it is. It’s on my mile-long list of things I have to do, thanks to you. And her.”

Her eyes slowly closed, and dread filled every limb. They felt heavier. Sluggish. She didn’t let the prick have another word, reaching down to hang up in his face.

“Wren, don’t panic,” Brent urged, gripping her shoulders.

“I know what you’re thinking. That was my first thought too,” Athan added, raising with Sarah from the couch while Denver flopped over onto his side.

“It’s the middle of the day. It wouldn’t be vampires.

Not Poe’s, anyway. The only ones that can be out this time of day would be the ones Sarah helped, and they have no reason to hurt Leigh. ”

“No,” Sarah stilled, glancing at Athan. “There is one .”

Wren’s eyes popped open, and rage started to boil. “Fucking Sykes .”

“Rhaena told her not to come back here. She wouldn’t offer herself up on a platter like that just to get to Leigh, would she?” Brent asked.

“She did!” Rhaena piped up, barely clothed, and sweating as Brandon followed her out of the spare bedroom shirtless. She held her phone out in front of her. “Sykes and Leigh are both at the 12th. Foster just told me to get there. Now.”

“Oh, we’re coming,” Sarah ground out. “I’ve got quite the bone to pick with that cunt. Whether she helped me or not.”

“We’re all going,” Athan added, and Wren could almost feel ice in his tone.

“Everybody saddle up. She doesn’t leave Boston this time.”

Rhaena’s eyes were hard. She was a woman on a mission as she stormed back into the bedroom to dress. Brent fetched Denver and brought him upstairs to lock him in while Wren cleaned herself up and changed.

“If Leigh’s with her, then you know it’s not because Sykes forced her. She’s been looking for any reason to stick her neck out for her. Leigh’s been waiting for a blip on the radar for days.” Wren knew he was trying to help figure the situation out, but it only led her to the same conclusion.

“She’s not coming with us to Denver,” Wren said sadly.

There was no telling what kind of conversation was going on in that truck as Athan followed close behind on the bike.

It was a little warmer out today, and the telltale scent of spring was beginning to taint the air.

Boston would have a little longer to wait for short sleeves, and bare legs, though.

Sarah’s arms were tight around his middle as he tried his best to unclog his heavy mind.

What does one do or say to the woman responsible for breaking your neck, and burying you alive?

Even if there was a lot on the line? Rhaena braked up ahead at a light, and he lowered his feet to the asphalt, gripping the brake with one hand, and reaching the other down to Sarah’s arms. She was tense too. Probably wondering the same thing.

We’re whole. We’re alive. Revenge only keeps us at war, love.

Her chin rested on his shoulder, and he could hear her harsh sigh over the motor.

It’s still a dish I’d like to serve her sorry ass. Cold and fucking rare.

Athan huffed a laugh, revving his bike and moving forward with Rhaena’s truck as the light turned green.

Rhaena had told them all to ‘saddle up’…

and to be honest, it felt good to be back in this particular saddle.

This feeling of freedom, even in busy Boston, was a welcome one.

One he needed more of. He needed more of her arms around him while they burned a road to nowhere, and just enjoyed life.

Chasing the sun—instead of racing it. Breathing…

instead of holding it for the next raw blow.

All these years he’d lived. All the years she’d live now…

he was so exhausted with the constant stench of death, and chaos…

misdeeds and bullshit. Maybe being as stony as he’d always been would only take him this far.

Sarah said it was time for some changes.

And changes they’d make . Starting with whatever happened in this room when they got there.

The elevator ride was silent. Rhaena’s inner wolf seemed like it was dying to free itself, and Athan wondered if she’d be able to handle herself in front of the rest of their fellow officers—officers that still had no idea that a whole different world existed.

The precinct itself was eerily quiet. Nobody was saying much, all of them still heavy with their grief over the empty office with the lights turned off, and a huge red, white and blue wreath hanging on the closed door.

It was like an iron fist to the gut seeing it.

He wasn’t sure how the hell they’d all get through that funeral tomorrow afternoon.

Agent Foster appeared from around the corner of the hallway where the holding cells and interrogation rooms were.

Following close behind her was a really young-looking kid that seemed ambitious—probably for a lot more reasons than one.

They both dipped their chins in greeting as everybody approached each other in front of Foley’s door.