Page 62 of Lovely Violent Things

“The only people who know what happened in that office are you, me, and Halen.” Her name is a razor dragged across my bones. She’s out there, right now, where I can’t protect her.

Because of him.

I tamp down the fury vibrating my fucking sinew and say, “And the only ones who know what will happen in this cell are you and me, Alister.”

“The only thing that’s about to happen is you’re being sent back to whatever fucking psycho facility you belong in. And Halen?” He takes a daring step forward. “That cunt is off my case.” Disgust curls his top lip as he glares at me through his swollen eyelids. “Hope she was a good fuck worth your freedom, Locke.”

Rage is a fire-hot branding iron shoved beneath my flesh. Alister turns toward the holding cell door, reaches for the handle.

“What’s wrong, Alister? Rules at the FBI made you soft?” My chuckle is mocking. “Damn, maybe I fucked the wrong pussy.” I unfasten the top button on the placket of my shirt, then snap the rest open, discarding the rumpled garment to the concrete floor.

His shoulders tense, the jab hitting its mark square in his fragile ego. When he turns to face me, all pretense is wiped from his hardened features. His gaze absorbs the stag skull inked on my chest, and a flicker of uncertainty registers behind his steely façade.

“When you show your face tomorrow,” I say, baiting him further, “all anyone will talk about is how you got a beat down by a fucking philosophy professor.” I touch the chaos star tattooed on my shoulder, feeling the pulsing drumbeat ricochet against my rib cage, the resounding demand for carnage. In a display of insult, I open my arms wide. “I don’t have a scratch on me.”

He grinds his molars against his feeble attempt at control.

“The whispers will circulate then,” I continue. “About how the asinine agent tried to rape—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he seethes, fury igniting his short fuse.

Monsters don’t like to be shown their reflection.

With a knowing sneer, I dip into my pocket and produce the pull tab from Halen’s jeans. I hold it up, my finger pressed to the broken prong.

Alister’s incensed expression wavers, the evidence of his attack on her held between us.

An interruption comes as three hard knocks at the door. Breaking his locked stare, I shift my gaze to the door. The sight of Agent Hernandez through the glass trips my heart.

“Where’s Halen?” I shout.

Alister reaches behind him to open the door, never taking his eyes off me. “What do you need, agent?”

Hernandez glances between me and Alister, his features contorted in confusion as his eyes land back on me, shirtless. “She’s missing,” he announces. “I can’t find Halen, or get her on her phone.”

I’m barreling toward the door before the last word leaves his mouth. Alister places his hand over his Glock fastened in his chest harness, issuing a nonverbal warning. My steps halt, every muscle in my body strung tight and ready to snap.

“She’s probably off getting herself into more trouble,” Alister says to the agent. “Get Agent Rana and the team on it. I don’t want to be bothered.”

My eyes narrow on him. He’s not concerned for her safety, nor does he think she could lead to the suspect. He wants the department cleared out. He wants us alone.

Curbing a dark smile, I move my focus past his shoulder to Hernandez hovering in the doorway. “Find Devyn,” I order him around my clenched jaw. “She’ll help locate Halen. Go now.”

With one last unsure glance between me and Alister, Hernandez nods and takes off.

Alister loiters in the doorway like a taunt. Tossing the bloody tissue to the floor, he pivots just long enough to shrug out of his gun harness and set it outside the cell. Then he closes and locks the door, sealing us inside. He places the key on the sill beneath the glass window.

Another taunt.

“She’s in danger.” The sharp tong of the pull tab bites into my fisted palm.

“And I sent every officer and agent out to search for her,” he says. “No one will accuse me of not taking a concerning matter with a consultant seriously.”

I run my tongue across the smooth surface of my teeth, a flame of malice licking my viscera. It’s in Alister’s best interest for Halen to simply disappear.

And goddamn it, my little Halen took the first opportunity she got to put herself right in the path of the Overman. Her fucking logic and misguided belief in some ultimate good.

Holding the zipper tab between the fingers of my left hand, I press the broken edge of the tong to my right pectoral, breaking the skin. I carve a line into my flesh opposite of the sigil on my right, the symbol for my muse.

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