Page 44 of Avidian
“Something happened last night, Katja,” Marco says, crossing an ankle over his knee. “And there’s more going on here than the case with Damien.”
I keep my expression neutral, but my mind is racing. Damn right a lot of things happened last night.
“What happened?” I venture cautiously, my demeanor careful, respectful. Normally, I don’t ask Marco questions—I respond, act, obey. This feels like a dangerous line to cross, but I have to know.
Marco studies me, the firelight illuminating his face in the dimly lit room.“Avids went missing from Viktor’s property last night. He’s furious, as you can imagine. And I suspect there’s more going on here. They didn’t just escape—it would have been impossible.”
He rubs his chin, his eyes narrowing like he’s sifting through possibilities. I stay quiet, trying not to betray the rapid pounding of my heart.
“I don’t feel comfortable keeping you here when one of our rivals—or Viktor’s enemies—could be murdering or stealing Avids.”
Internally, I sigh with relief. He doesn’t suspect us.
“I don’t fully trust my brother,” Marco continues. “And I especially don’t like this situation. But I’m not ready to go home yet. I have unfinished business here. You, however...”
His piercing gaze lands on me, and I sit perfectly still. I don’t want him to send me home, but I can’t risk protesting any more than I already have.
“You have to understand,” Marco says, leaning closer, “I care for you, Katja.”
His hand lands on my knee, and I instinctively stiffen. This is an unusual side of Marco—softer, almost sincere. It has me holding my breath.
“You are my most prized possession,” he says tenderly. His hand moves from my knee to cup my chin, tilting my face toward him.
I force a wan smile, swallowing down the urge to roll my eyes. Yep. You only want to send away your precious pet to keep her from being stolen.
“Do you trust me to keep you safe?” Marco asks, his eyes boring into mine like he’s daring me to say otherwise.
I nod and lie through my teeth. “Of course, Marco.”
“Very good.” Marco drops my chin, his hand retreating as if the moment of closeness never happened. I glance down at my lap, avoiding his gaze.
“I want you to continue the case,” he says, his tone shifting back to its usual authority. “You and I both know you haveenough of a connection now to work on this from a distance. I still expect you to solve this, and Viktor will want results.”
He’s right. I don’t need to stay here to contact Damien or Carmen. The connection is already forged.
“Will I be returning home today then? Should I pack?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
“You won’t be returning home,” Marco says, and my head snaps up before I catch myself, quickly glancing toward the fire to cover the slip.
If not home, then where? The question buzzes in my mind like a warning. But I keep my expression neutral, my curiosity masked.
“Your things are being packed for you as we speak. I’ll see you in a few weeks,” Marco says, rising from his seat with a finality that leaves no room for argument. My mouth almost drops open—a few weeks. This is so out of character for him. Something else is going on, something I’m not privy to, and I want to know what it is.
“And Katja,” he adds, pausing at the door, his sharp gaze slicing into me, “don’t disappoint me. I expect you to deliver the next time we meet.”
The weight of the threat presses on me. Solve the case by then or face the consequences—Marco’s way of ensuring obedience without saying too much.
“I understand,” I manage to say, though my insides twist at the thought of dealing with Damien and whatever games he has in store.
He nods once and strides out, the door clicking shut behind him. No further explanation, no reassurance—only expectations. And now I’m left to wonder where I’ll be sent and how I’ll manage to untangle this mess before time runs out. I’m going to have to project. It’s the only way to get to the bottom of this.Contacting the spirits on their playing field is the only move I have left.
“How are you not ready yet?”Malachi asks as he hauls my luggage into the room, his eyes scanning me where I still sit in front of the fire, wrapped in a towel with my wet hair dripping down my back.
“Hello, you have all my stuff,” I retort, throwing up my arms. “I’m not using that ridiculous excuse for a comb again.” I hurry over, opening one of my bags on the bed.
“I see you packed everything. That must mean you spoke with Marco,” I say, digging through the bag for clothes and a toothbrush.
“He came to you already?” Malachi asks, crossing the room to grab a duffle bag from the closet. He starts tossing his things into it with no real care or organization.
