Page 81 of Wilde and Deadly

Dom sighed. “He’s stewing. Bad.”

“No shit,” she muttered. “Where is he? I’ll talk to him.”

He studied her for a second, then shook his head. “I already tried, but you know how he gets all broody and shit. And after today…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

“Where is he?”

Dom arched a brow, amused. “Where do all the comic book characters go to brood?”

Rowan rolled her eyes. “Just tell me, Dom.”

His smirk was faint, but it disappeared just as fast. “Roof. He’s got that stormy, ‘I’m about to break something’ energy, so…” He winced. “Tread carefully.”

Rowan huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t do careful.”

Dom’s expression softened. “I know. That’s why you’re a good match for him.” He pushed off the counter and clapped her shoulder lightly as she passed. “Good luck.”

She didn’t need luck.

She needed Davey to pull his head out of his ass.

With a quiet sigh, she made her way up the stairs, slipping through the rooftop access door.

And there he was.

Davey stood at the edge of the roof, silhouetted against the night sky, hands braced on the ledge as he stared out over the city. His broad shoulders were rigid, his stance tense like he was barely holding himself together.

He looked like a man standing at the edge of a battlefield, right before the first shot was fired.

She approached quietly, her footsteps barely audible on the concrete. She knew he'd heard her anyway—Davey's situational awareness was second to none. Still, he didn't turn, didn't acknowledge her presence.

“Didn’t take you for the brooding rooftop type, Wilde.”

Davey didn’t flinch, didn’t turn. “Not in the mood, Bristow.”

Rowan scoffed, moving to stand beside him at the ledge. “When are you ever in the mood?”

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking. “I'm serious. I need to think.”

“And you think better when you're alone, freezing your ass off on a rooftop?” She leaned her hip against the ledge, studying his profile. The harsh lines of anger, the barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface. “Talk to me, Davey.”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t answer.

Rowan sighed and moved beside him, leaning her forearms on the ledge. The city stretched out before them, neon lights flickering, people moving below like nothing had changed.

Like Elliot hadn’t nearlydiedtoday.

She glanced at Davey, watching the way his fingers curled into fists. “You’re blaming yourself.”

He exhaled sharply, finally turning to face her. His blue eyes were stormy, filled with a mixture of rage and fear that made her heart clench. “He ismyresponsibility.”

“You really think Elliot would let you put that on yourself?”

Davey let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “Elliot can think whatever the hell he wants. It doesn’t change the facts.”

Rowan studied him, then nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re right.”

That got his attention. His head turned slightly, blue eyes flicking to her in suspicion. “I am?”

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