Chapter Fifteen – Zeth
Chapter Fifteen
Zeth
I watch through Wren’s eyes as she works on another batch of Crimson Haze.
The laboratory is quiet except for the bubbling of beakers and the occasional hiss when she adjusts the temperature.
She’s focused, and I let her be. She needs the distraction and needs to feel useful and in control of something.
But my mind won’t stop racing.
The plan was simple. After Wren made contact with the Kyzer family, I was supposed to separate from her and find Tom, her handler, report everything we’d learned, coordinate next steps, and keep the FBI in the loop.
I can leave this bunker easily, slip through the ventilation system as liquid, travel through the ducts, and reform outside somewhere safe.
I can meet with Tom. Hell, I could even go straight to Captain Holt if I needed to.
But I’m not going anywhere.
There’s absolutely no way I’m leaving Wren alone in this place.
She’s trapped underground with no windows, no escape route, and completely at their mercy.
Garrett has her exactly where he wants her, and I saw how he looked at her earlier.
Like she was something to devour. The memory makes rage simmer in me.
If that bastard tries anything, I’ll rip him apart before he can blink.
As long as Wren is stuck down here, I will stay merged with her. I don’t care about protocol or the established plan. Her safety matters more than following orders, and if the MSA or the FBI have a problem with that, they can deal with me later.
It’s not just duty anymore, either. I need to be honest with myself about that.
Yes, protecting her is my job, but this feels like more than professional responsibility.
She’s starting to mean something to me, something I don’t quite have words for yet.
The thought of leaving her vulnerable makes my entire being recoil.
“I heard that,” Wren’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
Shit.
“You should go meet with Tom tonight,” she says. “The FBI needs to know I’m alive, that I’m safe, and the mission is on track.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Zeth–”
“No. I’m not discussing this.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, and I feel her frustration bleeding through our connection. Then she sighs, and the fight drains out of her.
“Fine,” she says. “To be honest, I’d rather have you stay anyway. I didn’t expect this. Being locked down here… I’m scared.”
Wren doesn’t admit fear easily and doesn’t let herself be vulnerable unless she has no other choice. The fact that she’s telling me this means she’s genuinely frightened.
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”
She doesn’t respond, but I feel her gratitude like warmth spreading through our connection.
The main door unlocks with a heavy metallic click, and both of us tense up. I’m ready to act, if need be, but it’s just the undead guard. He ambles inside carrying two things: Wren’s duffel bag from the motel, and another bag that smells like food. Real food, not pizza.
He sets the duffel on the floor near the bedroom door and places the food bag on the counter near Wren. Then he turns to leave without a word.
“Thanks for bringing my stuff and for the food,” Wren calls out.
The undead stops. He looks back at her and nods once, then makes to leave again.
“Hey, what’s your name?” Wren asks.
Now he turns fully, and I can see surprise flicker across his decayed features.
He probably doesn’t get asked his name often.
Wren takes him in properly now. He’s tall, maybe six and a half feet, but hunched so he appears shorter.
He has spindly limbs that look fragile, but I know from earlier that he is deceptively strong.
His skin hangs loose on his bones, pale with purple-gray undertones.
He has sunken cheeks and hollow eye sockets.
There’s an earthy smell clinging to him, like turned soil and decay.
He opens his mouth, revealing rotted teeth, some missing entirely. He grins and the expression is strangely friendly despite the state of his mouth.
“You can call me Dale,” he says.
“Dale?” Wren blinks.
I feel her turning the name over in her mind. It’s possibly the most ridiculous name for an undead creature she’s ever heard. She expected something dark and ominous, not Dale. That’s such a normal, suburban dad name.
I can’t help it. I snort with laughter, and she hears me.
Wren fights to keep a straight face.
“Anyway, Dale, thanks for everything.”
Dale shrugs, still grinning slightly, then leaves and locks the door behind him.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Trying to make friends?”
“Why not? Dale seems like a decent one.”
“He’s undead. He’s literally a reanimated corpse.”
“So? Doesn’t mean he can’t be nice.”
“He probably eats human flesh.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe he’s vegetarian.”
We’re both laughing now, and it feels good. The tension breaks a little.
“Besides,” Wren continues, “undead people don’t talk much, which makes them excellent listeners.”
“Is that your criteria for friendship? Silence?”
“Sometimes it helps. You should try it.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so. And honestly, did you see what he was wearing? Those torn, stained clothes? I think Dale needs a friend who’ll take him shopping.”
“I don’t think the undead care much about fashion.”
“Clearly.”
The timer goes off, pulling us back to reality.
Wren returns to the refrigerator and removes the first batch of Crimson Haze.
The liquid glows crimson, thick and perfectly stabilized.
She fills a dozen small vials, caps each one, and lines them up in a neat row.
Then she strips off her latex gloves and lab apron and grabs the food bag.
She carries it to one of the metal tables and opens it. Like I guessed, there’s real food inside: soup that smells like chicken noodle, mashed potatoes, grilled chicken breast, and a side salad. Everything is still warm.
“Seems like Garrett really wants to take care of me,” she thinks as she starts eating. “Making sure I eat healthy.”
I bristle at the mention of his name.
“I don’t like Garrett.”
“You shouldn’t. He’s a snake.”
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“What, did you think I like him?” She sounds amused. “He smokes like a chimney.”
“That is disgusting,” I agree emphatically.
“Absolutely revolting. I can still smell it on everything. Now I’m sorry I bought that pack of cigarettes and smoked one. But I promise my habit was never that exaggerated.”
She eats, and she doesn’t even think about pizza. I thought pepperoni pizza was her favorite food, but it appears she’s not that fussy. Besides, this food is well prepared, which means that, indeed, Garret wants her in top shape. She’s valuable to him now.
Even though it’s well past midnight, Wren decides to make another batch of Crimson Haze once she finishes eating. Better to work until she crashes than lie in bed staring at the ceiling. I understand. Staying busy keeps the fear manageable.
She puts her gloves and apron back on and begins the process.
Her movements are automatic now, muscle memory taking over.
Base compounds, temperature adjustments, precise measurements.
The basilisk venom, the vampire blood. The mixture glows as it completes, and she places it in the refrigerator to chill.
She sets the alarm, then rests her head on her folded arms atop the workstation.
Just for a minute, she tells herself.
I feel her consciousness getting fuzzy. Within seconds she’s deeply asleep, breathing slowly and evenly. I could wake her, but I don’t. She needs rest, and I can stay alert for both of us.
The door unlocks suddenly, a loud metallic scrape that jolts Wren awake. Her head snaps up, disoriented, her heart pounding. Garrett strides in, clearly annoyed, and Wren scrambles to her feet just as the alarm starts beeping.
Garrett’s expression darkens.
“Go the fuck to sleep if you’re too tired to work,” he snaps.
Wren’s jaw tightens.
“For one,” he continues, “when you’re exhausted, you might mess up the recipe or ruin expensive ingredients. Can’t afford that.”
“I’m a professional,” Wren shoots back. “I know what I’m doing. So, fuck off.”
Garrett grins at her defiance, like he enjoys seeing her bite back.
“Two,” he says, “I need you functioning properly. Eat well, sleep enough, stay healthy. You’re valuable, and I need you in peak condition.”
Wren huffs but turns to the refrigerator. She removes the second batch and fills another dozen vials. There are twenty-four vials in total now, lined up neatly.
“Go to bed after this,” Garrett orders. “Tomorrow, you can work non-stop if you want. But tonight, sleep.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. He turns and walks out, slamming the door behind him. The bang echoes through the concrete space, and the lock engages with a solid thunk.
Wren finishes cleanup, strips off her gloves and apron, and washes her hands. She grabs her duffel bag and heads into the small bedroom, closing the door behind her. The space feels claustrophobic. She digs through her bag and changes into sleep clothes, then brushes her teeth in the bathroom.
When she climbs into bed, she can finally feel how exhausted she is. The mattress is surprisingly comfortable.
“No dreams tonight,” she says.
“Of course.”
“Promise me. If any explicit dreams emerge, though I doubt that will happen given the less than stellar circumstances, you’ll end them. For both of us.”
“I swear. I’ll end them immediately.”
She relaxes, trusting my word. She pulls the blanket up to her chin, closes her eyes, and surrenders to exhaustion. Within minutes, her breathing evens out and her consciousness fades. Her thoughts go quiet as she crosses into deep sleep.
Alone with my thoughts now, I have to admit something to myself: I’m disappointed.
Everything happened so fast. We were just beginning to acknowledge what’s between us and starting to navigate these feelings.
Now circumstances have forced everything back into professional mode.
There’s no space for dreams or intimacy, or figuring out what we could be to each other. The timing is terrible.
But then I mentally slap myself for being selfish. This is a dangerous situation. Wren is trapped underground with violent criminals who could hurt her or worse. The last thing I should do is think about her that way. I need to stay focused, alert, and ready for any threat.
I make a vow to myself as I lie awake inside her sleeping body: I will protect her with my life. It doesn’t matter what it costs me. It doesn’t matter if I never get to explore these feelings. Her safety is everything, and I won’t let her down.