Page 17 of Black Bird

“She’s not a booty-call, Wren. That’s my future wife in that room. Do you have any idea how bad I feel about this shit? Did it ever occur to you that I’m not the pampered prick that you think I am? I’ve never given Sarah any reason to doubt my feelings for her.”

Wren moved down a step and stood eye level with him. “She’ll never be your wife, Brent. Somewhere inside that beach bod, you know that whatever you feel for her isn’t the same as what she feels for you … ordoesn’tfeel for you. You two are like oil and water. No matter how hard you try … you’ll never mix. She doesn’t belong in that family. And if youdo actuallylove her, you won’t subject her to it. You should think about that.” They stared quietly at one another before Wren turned and started back up the stairs to take the elevator.

“And you think the broody detective is what she needs?”

Wren paused on the landing, her hand resting on the rail as she looked back down at him over her shoulder. “That’s up to her.” She almost looked as if there was a flash of pity in her eyes before she continued through the door and it slammed loudly, echoing down the stairwell. He’d never felt more confused or lonely in his entire life.

Perhaps the most painful part was knowing that he couldn’t disagree with her.

Sarah leaned back against the incline of her hospital bed; knees tucked against her chest as she stared at the tray of covered food in front of her. It had been almost a half hour since Detective Northwood had walked out of her room, and she wondered just how deep the partnership between the brunette and that leather-clad man from the bar actually went. It sure seemed to her like there was something other than loyal colleagues with similar interests hidden between them. Or maybe, it was just hidden inside the woman that had sat nearly speechless in that chair next to her bed when Sarah had mentioned how he’d made her feel.

There was so much clutter in her mind. So much, and yet—and yet just thinking about him gave her some strange sort of peace. Of course, that peace was rudely interrupted by the stab of guilt she felt about it where Brent was concerned. She’d never treated him like this. Even when he’d started seemingly using her like a shiny new watch after she’d agreed to marry him. He had still been the same when they were alone, and when she’d first said yes … she had meant it. She wasn’t exactly sure when her mind had changed. Wasn’t sure how to tell him either, or break things off in a way that wouldn’t ruin him with the press. Or ruinher,either. Now that this had happened, the last thing she needed or wanted was thousands more people hidden in bushes or staking out her apartment in a dark SUV. She couldn’t imagine that being pleasant for anyone. Least of all, a senator’s son.

She looked around at the dreary room. It was like a prison. She just wanted to go home. She leaned forward, shoving the tray aside and setting up her laptop. While it booted up, she checked her phone. Wren had texted a while ago, apologizing for making a scene in front of the detective. Sarah hadn’t answered her, and Brent hadn’t so much as attempted to speak to her after he’d stormed out. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. A few moments later, she filtered through emails, deleting spam and checking the due dates on her bills. She was starting to lose track of how many days she’d been in here. One email in particular caught her eye. The welcome packet from EverLife. It was filled with information about the benefits, forms she’d need to sign, disclosure agreements, and paperwork about her direct deposit and tax information. She started downloading the documents and sorting them out when another email dinged into her inbox.

It was as if they knew she was looking at it, though she hadn’t sent any reply. Another email from EverLife. From the CEO. Sarah’s face paled and she started reading through it.

Sarah,

We hope that this message finds you well. Your colleagues here at EverLife want to wish you a speedy recovery, and offer whatever support needed as you heal following this unfortunate event. We were truly sorry to learn of this news and want you to know that your position with our company is in no way compromised due to this situation. Please allow yourself as much time as is needed and feel free to reach out to us should we be of any assistance. We look forward to having you as part of our growing team.

Best regards,

Nicholas Specter

CEO at EverLife Plasma & Research Center

Something twisted in her gut, and she bit down on her lip, sucking it into her mouth and opening up her browser, hoping and praying to anyone listening that she wouldn’t find what she was expecting. It was a prayer unanswered.

“Fuck.” She slammed her elbow against the tray cart and palmed her forehead as she ran her fingertip down the mouse pad on her computer. Article after article popped up about her attack, and all the fabricated bullshit within them. She randomly chose one and clicked the link, opening up an article that had pictures of the crime scene. Yellow tape blocked off the throng of onlookers in the alley where her life turned upside down. Tabs with numbers laid on the ground where they had moved off her body.

Yeah, all the pieces for a great story were laid out for the world to see. Fucking perfect.

She scanned the photo for any trace of the detectives she’d been introduced to—one in particular, who wasn’t in them. Her brows drew together, and she narrowed her eyes when she caught one familiar face standing close to the yellow barrier. She zoomed in and her stomach turned.

“Why the fuck …” she whispered under her breath, as she stared at Conrad Stratford’s smug complexion. It almost looked as if he’d tried to hide his identity under a stupid ass fedora and a dark blue scarf. If that was the case, he wouldn’t be hiding from her. Not when that face would practically be Brent’s in several years. The spectators around him seemed fooled. No one seemed to notice he was there. She snapped a photo with her phone and slammed the laptop shut.

He’d been out here all day. The sun was starting to set. The first sunset he’d witness in a very,verylong time. Athan took deep breaths of the cool air and watched the glowing horizon turn every color from deep orange to a blistering magenta. He welcomed the ache in his chest as it shuddered up and down with emotion he hadn’t remembered he could feel. It was going to take a lot … getting used to this. He just prayed that it would last. It would be like giving temporary sight to a blind man and then ripping it away, leaving him broken and soulless. He’d spent too long being that man. If a man was even what one could call him anyway.

A figure down below caught his attention as she walked from the parking structure onto the uncovered walkway between it and their building. Rhaena. She was carrying a shoulder bag that looked stuffed with everything they would need to work from home, and a brown paper bag in the other hand with God knows what inside it. That girl ateall the time.He supposed the only reason she needed that much food was because of how hard she trained, burning off everything she put in. Werewolves were also known to put away a large amount of food, but he’d never had the opportunity to see it for himself until they’d met. He whistled when she’d made it about half-way down the walk and she looked around her. He did it one more time and her head shot up, mouth parting as she spotted him out on the balcony. Athan smirked at her, turning a complete circle to show her his unharmed skin and she looked as if she were about to cry. He jerked his head toward the sliding door, and she nodded, walking a little quicker toward the building until she had disappeared from view.

Athan glanced back at the sun, which was also disappearing beneath the earth and silently thanked the girl that still sat in that hospital across town. He’d probably spend the rest of his life thanking her for this. Poe squawked from the living room as Rhaena frantically knocked at the front door and he finally stepped back inside his bedroom, sliding the glass shut behind him. He padded silently through the apartment, sliding the chain aside and unlocking the door. It didn’t open fully before Rhaena leapt into him, clutching her solid arms around him, and squealing with excitement.

“I hate that I wasn’t here to see the look that must have been on your face, Kane. I’m so happy for you.” She sounded emotional, although he couldn’t see her past the wavy brown hair that he was spitting out of his mouth. He wasn’t used to affection, but he embraced her anyway. It was the only thing that seemed appropriate. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel heavy with guilt at her words, though. As happy as this should have been, the way that he acquired it was anything but kind. He patted at her back, and she finally released him, sitting the bags on the kitchen table while he locked everything back up.

“Was Cap pissed about us working from home?” he asked, turning to face her and crossing his arms in front of him. Rhaena startedunloading things from the shoulder bag, not looking at him while she answered.

“I didn’t ask. I signed out the laptops and shoved the files into the pack. He did stop me in the break room to ask if you were alright, though. He didn’t say anything about us not coming in, just that he wants us at our best on the case.” She paused and finally turned toward him, putting her hands on her hips, and exhaling sharply. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, bud.”

He tensed, not knowing why that last part had unnerved him so much.

Rhaena smirked, grabbing the brown paper bag from the table and holding it to her chest. “But first …” The bag danced back and forth beneath her grip.

“Do I want to know?” Athan drawled, staring at her as if he’d wallop her.

“You didn’t text back, so I took it upon myself. Sit.” She pulled a chair out and it screeched across the kitchen floor while she gestured for him to fill it. He stared at the bag for a moment, slowly moving toward the chair and sighing in dread as he lowered himself into it. Rhaena dropped into the chair beside him, pulling warm subs wrapped in wax paper from the bag and sitting them on the table in front of him. He stared down at the food, expressionless—and then at her. “Meatball sub. The best Boston can offer. Trust me.”

“And if I say no?” he replied without an ounce of worry of repercussion.

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