Page 33 of Stripped

"No, Primrose McNeil." Wraith hoped she had made it home safe.

"Angus' granddaughter. The dancer? I thought you were staying with her."

"Aye. I am. I want to know about her past. Boyfriends, acquaintances, anything you can pull up."

Dougal typed several things into his computer, bringing up different databases on his screens. His fingers moved faster than Wraith's eyes could keep up with. "There's not much from the past two years. A few posts on social media, but they're sporadic. I can't connect her to anyone else's account. I doubt she's been in a relationship ever." He continued to type. "There are a few arrests for underage drinking, but they've been expunged from her record. Grandda's doing, I suppose. This is interesting. She was expelled from the Royal Ballet Academy then brought back on probation. A bit of a wild child, it seems."

"Hmm." Wraith sighed. "Not much there."

"Most young people put everything on social media. She's the opposite. It's like she doesn't want anyone to know her."

Wraith nodded. That was exactly his problem. He stood up, placing his mug in the kitchen sink.

"You haven't taken your oath yet," Dougal said seriously.

"Apparently, I haven't proven myself. Especially now, with the botched assassination."

"I took my oath on the first day." Wraith knew he meant it as an insult, insinuating he wasn't competent.

"What the fuck do you want from me, Dougie?" He rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for getting you caught in the ditch that day. For the ambush, for the fucking IED blast that I couldn't save you from and for the men who died. But I don't want this. I want my old life back."

Dougal swallowed; there was a pained look in his eyes. "You didn't have a life, Robert," he said quietly. "You thought you were in love with a girl you could never have. You were hiding in the fringe, barely hanging on. It's what the war did to all of us who survived. You deserve more. The Watch will give that to you. And until you accept it, you'll never understand."

Wraith turned to leave. The Glock that Dougie kept for playing Russian roulette sat on the side table exactly where it was the last time he was here. He picked it up, checking to see if the trigger safety was in place and slid it into a holster on his chest harness. "I hope so, because killing people for a living is not really my thing."

"You're looking at it all wrong. Open your eyes and see what's in front of you," Dougal said. "And for fuck's sake, get off your damn high horse. You were a good person, and you're still a good person. You always will be."

Wraith closed the door behind him. The truth of what Dougie said cut deep. He was hiding in the fringe; he had been his whole life. He ran down the stairs, taking two at a time, until he made it back to his car. Once inside, he put the gun in his glovebox and started the engine. Then he slammed his fist into the dashboard.

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