Page 12 of Wicked Dove

Another eye roll, and she tucks the device away. “I was scanning your neck.”

My glare deepens as I fold my arms over my chest. “What for?”

“For your magical mark.” She says it like it’s obvious.

It’snotobvious.

“That’s just my tattoo,” I insist, still covering the spot as her eyebrows raise.

“Sure.” She turns away from me as I frown, confused.

“What does that mean?”

Before she can even consider answering, which I’m sure she wasn’t, her watch beeps.

“Come,” she commands, heading for the door without waiting for me to follow.

“Where do you expect me to go when I can’t fly?” My chest tightens with anticipation and she glances over her shoulder at me.

“Who said anything about flying?” she asks, opening the door wider to reveal…

“What the hell?” I blurt, disbelief carrying me toward the door.

It’s not blue skies and clouds that greet me, not even dark skies and glittering stars, but what I can only describe as a science lab.

Gulping, I watch as she saunters from the room, weaving between the rows of worktops and past the shelves lined with vials, each filled with an array of colors.

Uncertainty wars inside of me.

I can either hide away in here, going nowhere, or I can follow her into the unknown.

Dammit.

I’m sure waiting here won’t get me home, and while I can’t promise that out there will be better, I have to hope it is. Reluctantly, I rush after her, my socks slipping on the hardwood floor.

We don’t see a single person as she heads down the hallway, aware I’m right behind her.

“What is this place?” I ask, nerves rising inside of me.

“The Sanctum,” she offers, and I heave a sigh of frustration.

“The asshole told me that. But what does that mean?” I push, and she shrugs, not bothering to look back at me.

“This is the testing area,” she explains, tapping away on a device on the wall to our left.

“The what?” I repeat, and she shakes her head.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Because I don’t know what’s going on,” I retort defensively.

“If you shut up and paid attention, then you would,” she snaps back, finally tilting her gaze in my direction, only to glare.

Huffing, I fold my arms over my chest. “Where is Walker?”

“Who?” Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, making it abundantly clear she has no idea who I’m talking about.

I want to scream. I wish the world would stop and set itself right. I don’t want any of this. As for Walker, I have to keep reminding myself that he’s okay. He has to be. He’s going to worry about where I am. I’ll fight my way out of here knowing he’s searching. That’s what I have to trust.