Chapter Twenty-Five – Wren
Chapter Twenty-Five
Wren
I’ve been tied to this chair for hours, and my back is screaming at me. The rope around my wrists isn’t tight enough to cut off circulation, but it’s tight enough that I can’t slip free. At least they haven’t gagged me, and they took the bag off my head when we arrived. Small mercies.
The bedroom is oppressive in its luxury. Olivia is a maximalist, and it shows. Oh my God, how it shows!
Crystal vases crowd the dresser, porcelain figurines line the shelves alongside leather-bound books that look like they’ve never been opened, paintings in gilded frames cover nearly every inch of wall space, and in the corner stands a taxidermied peacock with its tail fanned out in a permanent display.
I hate taxidermy. The faint musty smell it gives off makes my stomach turn.
The curtains are drawn, so I have no idea where we are or what time it is, though I think it’s late.
Olivia was with me earlier, sitting on the edge of the bed like we were friends having a chat.
She fed me a chocolate praline with her own hand, her fingers brushing my lips as she placed it in my mouth.
She smiled and said I needed a bit of sugar in my system, and that this would all be over soon.
Her kindness felt genuine in the moment, but I’m not stupid enough to believe it actually was.
Now I listen to her argue with Garrett in the living room. The door is closed, but their voices carry through.
“I will come with you, and you can’t stop me,” Olivia says. “Don’t call Viktor. He can’t stop me either.”
Garrett’s voice comes back strained, almost pleading.
“Please, Mrs. Kyzer. I have this under control, and I promise you that if all goes well and it turns out Wren is innocent, I will bring her back myself, unharmed.”
“Nonsense. I’m not coming for Wren. I’m coming for my son.
No one believes in my Romy, but I do. He’s smart, he takes initiative, and this time, he struck gold.
I want to be there for him when you all see that he was right all along, and Wren isn’t some spy or undercover cop.
I want him to see his mother is on his side. ”
Garrett doesn’t respond to that. I can picture him standing there, cigarette in hand, at a complete loss for words.
I’m shocked at Olivia’s reaction. She can’t be serious.
For her to be present during this sort of operation, when drugs move hands, is beneath her.
Most likely, not even Lucien or Cesar will be there.
From what I’ve glimpsed over the past few days, I know the two brothers are out of Roman’s operation for good, too mad at him to contribute anymore.
And Viktor is probably cooped up in his palace or wherever he spends his time, far removed from the actual dirty work.
But Olivia is undeterred. She’ll do whatever the hell she wants, and no one can talk sense into her. She’s certain that her youngest did a good job, so this isn’t necessarily about trusting me. It’s about trusting Roman, who trusts me. She wants to be there to witness his triumph.
The door opens, and Olivia sweeps into the bedroom with a warm smile on her face. I study that smile, trying to figure out if it’s honest or if she’s just a great actress. I still can’t tell.
“Garrett will untie you now,” she says, her voice light and pleasant. “He’s such a barbarian sometimes, isn’t he? You’ll have to forgive him, I beg you.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” I say, keeping my own voice calm and compliant. “I understand.”
“Of course you do.” She beams at me like I’ve passed some kind of test. “You’re such a darling, and so well behaved.”
Garrett appears from behind her, and I see that he looks defeated. His brow is permanently furrowed, and a cigarette dangles from his lips as he moves to untie me.
I move slowly when the ropes fall away, rubbing my wrists and rolling my shoulders.
I want them to think I’m compliant and I’m not going to cause problems. Things are going well, as far as I’m concerned.
If they take me out of this apartment, there’s a chance Zeth will find me.
I’ve been thinking about him all this time, wondering where he is, if he got the USB stick to Tom safely.
I know he won’t find me if I’m trapped in here.
I doubt he can find this location at all.
But once we’re moving, once we’re out in the open, maybe he’ll catch up to us.
“Come now,” Olivia says, threading her arm through mine like we’re old friends. “We’ll go on a little adventure, and when all this is over, we’ll have that coffee.”
We walk like that to the front door, but Garrett stops us before we can leave, and he slips the bag over my head.
Olivia doesn’t protest, and that tells me everything I need to know.
Her kindness toward me is fake. Despite her desire to believe that Roman is infallible, she’s entertaining the idea that I might be a mole.
We walk to the elevator and ride down a few floors.
The chilly night air hits me when we exit the building.
Olivia lets go of my arm, and after Garret helps her into the car, it’s my turn.
The car ride is long, and I try to track the turns in my head but lose count after a while.
I think we’re headed outside the city. The roads feel smoother, less stop-and-go than city traffic.
When we finally stop and Garrett helps me out so I don’t hit my head, my sneakers crunch on gravel. I hear another car door slam shut somewhere nearby, and then Roman’s voice as he rushes toward us.
“Mom? What are you doing here?”
Garrett removes the bag from my head, and I blink in the dim light. A warehouse looms in the dark.
Olivia is hugging Roman, smoothing down his wild hair as he clings to her.
“I’m here to support you, baby,” she says, pulling back to look at his face. She takes his hand, and they start walking toward the warehouse. “Come, let’s get this over with, so we can have a nice, late dinner and talk.”
I follow Garrett, but I let myself fall behind a few steps, looking around.
We’re in some kind of industrial area, warehouses and empty lots stretching out in every direction.
The night is eerily quiet, and that makes me anxious.
Where are the FBI agents? Are they already in position, waiting to catch everyone in the act?
Garrett grabs my arm and pulls me forward, his grip tight enough to bruise. He leans in close and hisses in my ear.
“No funny business.”
I wonder if Zeth is somewhere around here, watching from the shadows. I wonder if he can see me. The thought gives me a small measure of comfort, even though I have no way of knowing if it’s true.
Inside the warehouse, I see a crate sitting in the middle of the concrete floor.
I’m guessing it’s filled with the Flame I cooked.
I hear two cars pulling up outside, and then a few men enter.
Suddenly, there are two parties facing each other with the crate in the middle.
I don’t recognize the men who just joined us because the light is too dim to make out their faces.
I stand back and watch, thinking it’s better to keep in the background and not draw attention to myself.
I wonder if this is the warehouse where I was first taken when they kidnapped me.
I discreetly look around, trying to find Zeth in case he’s here, but I don’t see anything.
The atmosphere feels tense, like everyone is waiting for something to go wrong, and I hope it does.
Wrong for them, right for me. God, how I want this to be over.
Roman steps forward and shakes hands with the man who seems to be the boss of the other group. Then he opens the crate and takes out one vial, holding it up to the light.
“You came for Crimson Haze,” Roman says, his voice confident and proud, “but the Kyzers have better. This is a revolutionary concoction. You’ve never seen anything like it, I promise. We call it the Flame.”
The man uncorks the vial and sniffs it, swirling the liquid around.
When the vapors hit his nose, he closes his eyes and grunts in approval.
He shakes Roman’s hand again, and his eyes are bright in the poor light.
I think he’s not completely human. Maybe he’s a hybrid of some sort with enhanced senses, if he was able to determine that fast that the Flame is special.
The man motions for one of his guys to pass a black suitcase to Roman, who opens it to reveal stacks of money inside. He grins wide.
“Pleasure doing business with you.”
That’s when all hell breaks loose.
The doors to the warehouse burst open and uniformed men flood inside with their guns at the ready.
Someone shouts, “Don’t move, FBI!” But of course the guards from both sides start shooting.
The agents return fire, and the next thing I know, bullets are flying everywhere. I duck and try to find cover.
Garrett puts himself between Olivia and the rest of the warehouse, shooting at the agents. Olivia turns to me, and her face is twisted with rage.
“You traitor!” she screams at me. “What did you do? Who are you?”
I ignore her and try to run, but she pulls a gun from her purse and aims it straight at me.
“I will deal with you myself,” she says.
I freeze with my hands in the air, but from the corner of my eye I see a pool of black liquid moving across the floor toward me. My breath catches. That’s Zeth. I know it’s him, and I can’t fight the urge to meet him halfway. I want to feel him inside me because only then I will feel safe.
I bolt to my right just as Olivia presses her finger on the trigger.
My foot connects with Zeth’s liquid shape, and I feel him taking over me, pouring himself under my skin.
Just as the bullet is about to lodge into my chest, Zeth rushes to the surface like armor around me.
I’m inside him now, or more like I’m still standing here, but Zeth is all around me, enveloping me to protect me.
We are one.
I feel the bullet pierce him under the sternum, but his body matter bounces it back. Before I fully wrap my mind around what’s happening, the bullet is out and ricocheting across the floor.
It’s dark inside him, but it’s not a scary kind of darkness. It’s warm and safe, like nothing can reach me. I can see through his eyes the way he sees through mine when we’re merged, and I realize the roles are reversed now. It’s fascinating.
Olivia gasps and starts shooting again, round after round. I see her desperation through Zeth’s eyes as his body keeps rejecting the bullets with no effort at all. He advances toward her until her gun is empty and she’s pressing the trigger with no effect.
Zeth grabs her arm and twists.
Olivia drops the gun and screams.
“You...” she starts to say, but Zeth pulls her close to his face.
“I’ve been wanting to do this,” he sneers.
He squeezes her arm so hard that I hear the bones shatter.
Olivia wails, and when he pushes her back, she tumbles to the ground and stays there, cradling her ruined arm.
I can feel that Zeth wants to do more, wants to cause her pain, destroy her completely, and it’s terribly hard for him to hold back, but he does.
Silence has fallen over the warehouse. When Zeth looks up, I see through his eyes that the agents are cuffing the people who are still alive.
Roman is in cuffs, his face pale and shocked.
Garrett is lying on the floor in a pool of blood, his stare blank.
I feel nothing when I see him dead. Today, he showed his true colors, and he got what he deserved.
Captain Holt approaches us.
“Where is Wren?”
Zeth retreats and pours out of me, and then I’m myself again, whole and untouched.
“Are you hurt?” Captain Holt asks, looking me over with concern.
“No, I’m fine.”
Captain Holt nods and looks at Zeth, who’s now standing next to me in his humanoid form.
“Good job, you two. We hit all their locations at once. I just got word that Viktor Kyzer was arrested, along with his sons. This is more than we expected. What you did here will make the history books.”
I don’t know about that. It seems like an exaggeration. But I’m relieved that it’s over, that we survived and the mission is complete.
“What now?” I ask.
“Debriefing,” Captain Holt says, patting me on the shoulder. “Then I think you should take a vacation before your next case.”
I smile at that. He looks at Zeth with satisfaction in his eyes, clearly pleased that he made the choice to hire a bodyguard for me. He pats Zeth on the shoulder as well before heading back to his team.
I turn to Zeth and throw my arms around him. I don’t care who sees. I’m overwhelmed that he’s here, that he came for me, that he literally took bullets for me and saved my life.
Zeth cradles me in his arms.
“You’re okay,” he whispers against my hair. “You’re with me.”
“Yes,” I say, pressing my face to his wide chest. “I’m with you.”
As the chaos is slowly sorted out around us, agents calling out instructions and paramedics arriving to tend to the wounded, all I can do is cling to him. I realize now, standing here in his arms with my heart still racing and the smell of gunpowder in the air, that I may never let go.