Page 32 of Raven

I felt the same way around Maddy. That day, when I ended up at the medical center after the Carnage fight, the way she stood her ground, didn't cower under my gaze, and turned around when I tried to have my way made me curious. In fact, it challenged and surprised me.

I was hooked.

When she paused her calm, pretty eyes on me that day, anger flared up in my blood for the first time in years.

She wasn't Mac, a seasoned guy who saved the worst scum in the hood. She was a girl, several years my junior, and that—that—was not ordinary.

So, I dug deeper. Maddy Wise had disappeared from social life. No legal activity either. No check-in with the after-Change registry. No claim on her bank accounts. Nada.

Interesting, I thought, why wouldn’t she try to claim her funds? Or look up her relatives?

I dug out her medical file. Turned out, two years ago, she was checked into a hospital on the mainland two days before Archer’s private jets took off for Zion for spring break. She had acute severe asthma. I asked around—she arrived at Zion that same day. So, I asked my darknet guy to get the detailed medical records for her from that hospital.

And there, right there, was the truth about Maddy Wise. Not only did she never check out of the hospital, but as per her records, she had an intubation procedure at 3:05 p.m. the day the jet took off for Zion. She was still at the hospital the day of the first nuclear attack.

You don’t have to be a genius to realize that our Maddy couldn’t be in two places at once.

The hospital was bombed. She was never on the list of deceased or recovered. Maddy Wise simply stopped existing. Yet, whoever was claiming to be her was on Zion.

It only took a minute of research to find out who her best friend was—Milena fucking Tsariuk.

Well, well. Coincidence? I think not.

Maddy is a mystery, and the way she makes me feel is unusual, to say the least.

When I was in my sex-exploration era, I used to look at women and wonder how far they'd go in bed, what tricks they had up their sleeves, what their pussy looked like, and how they orgasmed.

Maddy? My dick turns into a tungsten hard-on when I imagine taking her dress off. Just the dress. The first time I thought about what panties she wore, I jerked off. When I found her lost bracelet at Archer's birthday party two months ago, I twisted it in my hand for hours that night at home, then rubbed myself and came like a maniac when I imagined putting it back on her wrist.

Sure, I wonder what she'd be like in bed. But I want to crack her open. Do things to her. See what the difference between Maddy and Milena is. Know what Milena is like. Learn what makes her come out of her shell. The thickest shells are the hardest to break but they hide the softest core. She is this whole package that I can’t wait to get my hands on. Most importantly, I want to find the reasons for her hiding and know how to protect her.

She is mine, if only for a short while. Which means, I won’t let anyone harm her.

When I open the door to the patient room, Maddy stands by the window, the blinds open, her arms hugging herself. Slowly, she turns to look at me as I close the door behind me and study her.

She is a nurse. Where does a nurse get a gorgeous, toned body like that? Then I remind myself that she lived on the Eastside for two years like a hippie. They did gardening or something like that, cleaned and built stuff.

She is still wearing her minidress and fancy sandals. Of course, you didn’t come here for a regular shift, Maddy baby.

She dressed up for me, I fucking know it, and it makes my chest hum with satisfaction.

There’s that fierceness in her eyes that she fails to hide. They sparkle. There’s a dare in them.

There you are, Milena.

I want to see this side of her. I will claw it out of her if needed. It’s always the quiet ones who know how to tame monsters because they know how to hide their own.

Maddy pulls the blinds closed.

Oh? Is she expecting something to happen?

She nods to the examination table. “Shirt off,” she orders.

I like her in charge. Unlike the last time I was here, I don’t argue. I wonder what she will do next.

I pull the shirt over my head and drop it onto the chair, then take a seat on the edge of the examination table, spreading my knees wide so that she has nowhere to stand but between them.

She walks up and touches my shoulder wound.

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