Page 5 of Lavender and Lightning

“One step at a time, love. Let’s get you dressed and see how long it’s going to take,” I say, deflecting the question for the moment.

Lex is going to kill us.

three

Lydia

Rhettisbesidemeon the couch, one arm wrapped around my shoulders. Lee Nyueng is sitting on my coffee table, so close his knees almost touch mine, a tiny notebook in hand. We’ve talked to three different officers and a detective in the last few hours, telling the story over and over to the point I’m ready to scratch the eyes out of the next person who asks for me to “start at the beginning.” Lee and Rhett are chatting, but my brain refuses to take in any of their conversation.

I’d heard every horrifying second the intruder had been in my apartment, but seeing the shifted blankets and clothes, the disturbed furniture, the undeniable proof that a stranger touched my safe space, hit me like a cannonball to the gut. I’d sunk onto my tiny couch and haven’t been able to tear my eyes from my bed since. Not too long ago, a swarm of people in white paper jumpsuits arrived. The forensics unit had swabbed and dusted just about every surface on or around the door itself, and then fanned out, looking for missing pieces. Each splinter had to be accounted for, as any of them could have evidence. I’ve never seen anything this thorough, short of a murder investigation on television. Something in me can’t help but wonder if my association with Pack St. Clair has anything to do with this.

I’d hoped that they would leave my nest in peace. But between my fixation on my bed, and Lee pressing us into repeating the exact words the intruder used, my bed, my omega nest, had to be examined. People I don’t know, who I can’t even look in the face due to their masks and hoods, are systematically pulling apart my nest bit by bit. My stomach roils as they take each blanket and pillow, each article of clothing I’d tucked away, and inspect them. They hold up the smaller pieces like a fresh kill, and spread out the larger ones, handling everything I’d worked to create with so much care yet so little regard. Once something is deemed useless, it’s tossed in an empty bin they found somewhere.

My eyes burn when a pair of techs start handling an emerald green blanket, my teeth grinding as I try not to move or speak. I can’t feel my body, my entire focus on the way these strangers are manhandling my things.

“I think we’re done here.”

Rhett’s voice draws me out of my tunnel vision, and I take a deep breath. His whiskey and old books smell dulls the edges of my raw nerves, but my hands still shake, and I tuck my good one under my thigh. I don’t bother looking up, but I can feel Rhett’s gaze on the side of my face.

“We’re still waiting on–”

“Lee, I’ve given you as much of my patience as I can manage today. I’m taking my omega home, so she doesn’t have to watch this. She’s been through enough,” Rhett interjects harshly.

I let Rhett pull me to my feet, his fingers sliding into the places between mine on my good hand. Lee rises too, and I realize how much shorter he truly is than Rhett. He’s only maybe an inch taller than me, so he doesn’t look nearly as intimidating as he thinks he is as he puffs out his chest. His cool bamboo scent grows stronger for a moment, but Rhett brushes right by him. As we pass the forensic team, I stop short, staring at the green blanket in their hands.

“Can… can I have that? Please?” I ask, words coming out a little choked.

“I’m so sorry, honey, but this is all evidence for the moment. We’ll have it back to you in two shakes,” a female voice says from behind the blue mask, the brown eyes behind her safety goggles sympathetic.

Biting my trembling lower lip, my shoulders fall as disappointment sinks like a stone in my chest. Rhett puts some clothes into a backpack for me and slings it over his shoulder before taking my hand again. I’m too focused on the unsteady feeling in my stomach and knees that I almost miss it as we pass through the destroyed doorway to my apartment and into the hall beyond. But just on the edge of my senses, something makes the hair on my arms and neck stand on end. A pungent scent, one I both recognize and yet somehow can’t place. I know every scent in this building, all of them soft or neutral beta and omega scents. Nothing harsh or stomach churning, nothing that burns the inside of my nostrils for a moment before the scent disappears. And while the cleaning products maintenance uses to mop the floors are noxious, they haven’t ever made me want to run for the hills as fast as my legs could carry me.

Rhett leads us silently through the halls, where I can hear other officers knocking on doors and speaking with my neighbors. We’re out of the building and into Rhett’s car in what feels like no time at all, driving through the streets of Everton. My mind whirs, trying to place that trace of scent. Because whoever it belonged to was the intruder, I’m sure of it. If I could just get my head on straight long enough to focus and think. But moving beyond the tar-thick panic of being in a car again is impossible, despite my best efforts.

“Your landlord was notified, and he’s going to be getting a new door installed before the end of the day. Lee said there’ll be someone there until it’s secure,” Rhett says after a moment.

“Thank you,” I mutter, taking deep breaths as I try to force away the urge to cry.

“I’m sorry you had to watch them do that to your nest. Absolutely heartless,” he goes on, voice getting heated and accent getting stronger.

I shrug with my good shoulder, looking at my hand as it rests in my lap. My vision goes in and out of focus, and I have to close my eyes to avoid getting sick. I know I’ve encountered that scent before, something savory and toxic. Onions and motor oil? Cheese maybe? But not fresh cheese, something that could only be produced in a lab.

Rhett is about to say something else, but suddenly, his cell phone rings out over the car speakers. Glancing up, I see Alexandra’s name on the dash screen. Rhett presses the answer button, and barely manages to get a greeting out before her sharp, transatlantic-accented fury comes pouring through the line.

“Where thefuckare you? I’ve been calling for hours, and you can’t even send more than a ‘can’t talk’ text? I can’t believe you! Of all the days–”

“Lex, if you’d jus’ let me fucking speak, I could tell ya that someone broke into Lydia’s fucking apartment!”

I flinch a little at Rhett’s shout, but it does the trick of getting Alexandra to stop talking. There are several full seconds of stunned silence. I never thought I’d live to see the day Alexandra St. Clair is struck speechless.

“Holy shit. Oh my God. Is she–are you–is everyone okay?” she stammers at last.

“I’m not hurt,” I answer before Rhett can speak for me.

He gives me a look, acknowledging my careful choice of words. Nothing gets by him, I swear.

“Am I on speaker? Lydia, sweetness, I’m so sorry. Have you talked to the police? Did they take anything? Can you tell me what happened?” she goes on, sounding almost frantic.

I let Rhett tell the story again, not wanting to repeat myself for the twentieth time this morning. When he’s done, he and Alexandra discuss the next steps, but I hardly listen. I’d given up hope of keeping our court date after the first hour of our detainment.

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