Page 75 of Bratva's Intern

“Now.”

Wren sucked in a deep breath. “Now?” he whispered. “But it’s the middle of the night.”

I shook him, still holding him by the jaw. Hard enough for him to cry out. Fear entered his eyes. Good. He was finally taking me seriously.

“You have five minutes to get out.”

I gave him a shove back, and he stumbled, tripped over the sheet, and almost fell, but luckily, he caught his balance on the sink, or I would have spoiled the whole menacing act by catching him.

I’d seen Wren angry, hurt, confused because of things I’d said. This was the first time I’d seen him looking at me with fear in his eyes.

A chill settled in the room as our gazes locked. He finally realized the severity of his actions, his transgression not only against me but also against the delicate balance we’d maintained in our working relationship so far.

“I’m sorry. I was just worried.” Wren dashed from the bathroom and into the adjoining room. I heard him scrambling for his things. My stomach felt like someone had dropped lead inside me. I clutched the sink and inhaled deeply.

He was lucky I was allowing him to leave alive with my secret.

A door opened, and I slipped into the room to investigate. I’d only given him five minutes, so he hadn’t found the time to make the bed. I stared at the rumpled sheets and the dent in the pillow where he’d slept, while I had no clue in the next room.

Would he truly have gotten up and left in the morning without me knowing he’d stayed the whole night?

The knowledge coiled in my gut like poison, thick and suffocating.

I wasn’t some fragile thing in need of constant watching. I refused to be. Those days of people hovering, of whispered concerns, of pity laced with fear were long gone. While my seizures hadn’t completely stopped, the VNS therapy had largely reduced them. It had been so long since I experienced a seizure. Why tonight?

I traced the subtle ridge on my chest where the implantable pulse generator lay hidden. Wren hadn’t seemed to notice it. Thank god. No one could know about it. My implant was the kind of secret that, if exposed, could unravel everything I’d built. It was why I never let lovers touch me. Why I only fucked in the dark, a shirt between their hands and my truth. If they wanted to feel something, I tied them down. Controlled what they could take.

My pulse pounded in my ears as I stepped into the hallway, the floor cool beneath my bare feet. My lungs still felt tight, like the walls were pressing in. I needed to see it for myself. That he was truly gone. That he hadn’t just tucked himself away somewhere in my house without my permission.

I descended the stairs in near silence. But as I reached the bottom, I hesitated.

Rain.

I hadn’t noticed it before, too lost in the storm brewinginside me. But now it was impossible to ignore the heavy downpour slamming against the windows, the distant rumble of thunder rolling through the night. Sheets of water blurred the world beyond the glass.

A cold dread curled up my spine.

Wren.

I wrenched the door open. A gust of wind whipped around me, bringing the scent of rain and earth with it.

Wren stood on the porch, curled in on himself, shivering, his arms wrapped tightly around his body as he tried and failed to avoid the downpour. At the sudden burst of movement, he stumbled forward but caught himself at the last second. His wide eyes met mine, his breath hitching, and then?—

He stepped back. Out into the storm.

The rain swallowed him instantly, drenching him in a heartbeat. His soaked clothes clung to him, his hair was plastered to his forehead, and water slipped down his face like tears. But he didn’t move. Didn’t run.

Just stood there, watching me. Waiting.

“I’m s-s-orry.” His teeth chattered. “I c-c-called a c-c-cab. I’ll b-b-be gone as soon as it gets here.”

Outside, the rain roared, pooling in rivers along the pavement. He was a dolt for standing out there. A stubborn, reckless idiot. And yet, I had been the one to force him into the night.

A cold, hollow feeling twisted in my chest. I didn’t like the taste of regret. Of shame that I’d kicked him out in the middle of the night.

With a measured pace, I closed the distance. Panic flickered across his face, and Wren bolted. I lunged, catching him by the arm before he could run off into the night. For a heartbeat, rain-slick skin slipped beneath my grip, but I tightened my hold.

Fuck, the rain was cold, sharp icicles digging into my skin.

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