Chapter 22
MARA
Iblink for the first time in what seems like minutes.
The party resumes. The gray clouds part, revealing twinkling stars once again, and I stand in shock at how quickly everything has changed.
I glance at Damien, who remains silent, standing resolutely where Crew had just been.
His body is tense, his leather wings fully spread out, and he sips his whiskey, rubbing his temples.
He walks toward me, and I quickly pull the knife from the wall inches from my temple. The wounds on my back throb, but somehow I can feel the pain lessening, as if the outburst has propelled my powers to work harder.
“I suggest you put the knife away.”
I don’t respond, trying to slow my racing heart and breathing. I do as he says and carefully slide the knife back into its holster against my thigh. My hands shake as I lift my gaze and see Damien watching me with a sour expression.
“Please don’t say anything,” I say.
“Oh, I’m not,” he chuckles. “I don’t want to end up with a knife in my back. Or side.”
I sigh, pick up the drink from the table, and take a long sip of the whiskey.
I’ve struggled with anger issues my entire life.
The uncontrollable feeling of rage has always been at the back of my mind.
It drives me, tests me, and pushes me to my limits more often than I’d like to admit.
It’s a blessing when fighting for my life, and a curse when it explodes. I can’t reel it in.
I dust off my dress and tuck a piece of fallen hair behind my ear. I can only imagine what I look like right now. The night is over, and I won’t be returning to any party.
“Want to go to your room?” Damien asks. “Although after that stunt, I bet every man here would like to dance with you for showing out like that. I know Carver would love to as well.”
I cast him an unamused glance. “I have absolutely zero interest in seeing Carver.”
“Just thought I’d offer.” He places his drink down. “Crew is pissed.”
I huff, dropping my head. “No shit.”
Damien sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Crew isn’t fun to have on your bad side, but from what I’ve seen, neither are you.”
I relax my shoulders and let a heavy exhale leave my lips. “Take me to my room. Please.”
He nods. “Come on.”
I follow him through the double doors where the music, people, and party fill the space with booze, laughter, and desire. I don’t see this dying down anytime soon, and I’m happy to be leaving. However, the situation doesn’t sit well with me, and I find myself looking around for someone.
Where is he?
And who is he with?
Damien immediately turns right, avoiding as many people as possible, and we slip down a narrow hallway leading back to the main part of the Order. It’s quiet in this area, but I swear I can still hear the whispers traveling around me of what I’ve done, like my internal regret isn’t enough.
We ascend the black marble stairs and proceed down the hallway lined with numerous doors. With each turn, I lose track of where I am. I try to count the doors I pass to memorize my position, but the dim lighting and the hallway’s uniformity make everything blend.
I shouldn’t have had that much whiskey.
At the end of the long hallway, we come to a stop in front of three doors.
The tall wooden doors loom over us, and paintings line the wall depicting old wars, Elders, and statues that send a chill up my spine.
It’s dark, ancient, and there’s something about this entire Order that makes me uncomfortable yet interested.
“The door on the left is yours, mine, and Locke’s is in the middle, and Crew’s is on the right.” He points to each.
“Why do you two share a room?” I ask.
“Because we are Crew’s lackeys, apparently,” he laughs, shrugging. “But we always keep a few rooms open for murderers to stay here if needed.”
I give him an unamused look as he realizes his joke’s abysmal timing.
“My bad,” he says.
My eyes snap to Crew’s room, and I can’t help wondering if he’s in there with the woman he swept away. My stomach twists, and I walk straight to my door and push it open.
Am I fucking jealous right now?
Damien follows closely behind as I cross the threshold, taking in the enormous room.
He flicks on a lamp, lighting up the space before us, and my eyes widen.
Black walls make the space feel dark yet cozy, with fabrics draped over the dark furniture.
A large Gothic bed sits in the far corner near a massive window overlooking the abandoned streets of the Ashmeed District, and a television is mounted on the wall above the fireplace.
“Cozy?” Damien says.
“I’ve seen worse,” I say, as I enter the room further, looking at everything my eyes can take in.
He sits close to the fireplace and settles in comfortably.
“I hope you don’t mind if I hang out for a bit.” Damien crosses his legs. “I have a strong suspicion that Locke is in our room, and I don’t really feel like watching him fuck someone.”
I glance toward the wall, as if I could see Locke in his room, and I join Damien in the sitting area. The small couches and chairs are covered in velvet, and the dark fabric feels soft against my back as I settle into the chair.
“Want me to start a fire?” he asks.
I sit up straight as my heart pounds. “No.”
Damien raises his hands. “Whoa. Alright, no fire.”
“Sorry,” I reply, looking away. “I— I don’t like—”
“It’s okay,” he cuts me off. “I put two and two together. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
I lean back in the chair, letting the soft fabric embrace my back once more.
I can’t explain it, but since Crew and I fought, the pain in my back has dulled.
Damien grabs the remote and clicks the television on.
A dating show comes on the screen, and I roll my eyes.
However, I can’t help but snicker as Damien’s face lights up.
“Like these shows?” I ask, tilting my head.
He settles back onto the small couch, propping his feet up. “I won’t lie, they’re addictive.”
We watch in silence, the roaring noise of the TV trying to drown out my thoughts. After a while, I find myself leaning forward, waiting to see what happens next. Damien laughs to himself over the ridiculous commentary, and I can’t help but think: What is happening right now?
Damien notices my stare and looks at me with a grin. “Never in my life did I think I’d be watching TV with the Hollow—Mara Castten, the most feared angel assassin in centuries.”
I nod. “Feeling is mutual.”
I let the silence build once more, and as the show ends, Damien clicks off the television.
“You know, I think you are the only person who’s injured Crew not once but twice,” he says, tossing the remote down. “Tonight was interesting to say the least.”
“I guess that makes me good at my job.”
I repeatedly run the events of the night in my head. Crew’s face, watching it transform into something pure evil, and the sensation I experienced driving the knife into his side.
Damien leans forward, demanding my full attention.
“I’m not standing up for him by any means—Crew can be a dick, believe me, I’ve been his friend for a long time—but one thing he isn’t is a liar.
” He pauses. “I know you think he did something horrible, but if he says he didn’t, maybe he’s worth listening to. ”
His words sink in like a cold bath.
I shift on the couch. “For twelve years, I’ve hated him, wishing for any opportunity to wipe him off the face of this earth.
I’m not just going to believe the first thing he says.
” I narrow my gaze. “I know what I saw, Damien, and it was my father’s body in the streets and Crew running from the scene.
I don’t know Crew, so why would I give him a chance? ”
Damien nods as if he understands my feelings, and for the first time in a while, I feel heard.
“Did Crew kill my dad?” I ask.
“This isn’t my conversation to have,” he responds, shaking his head.
Damien stands, stretches, and walks toward the door to leave me for the night. Before he crosses the threshold, he glances back over his shoulder.
“Like you said, Mara, you don’t really know Crew.”
I eat my words.
“Clothes are in the bathroom, and the folders for the assignments are on the desk. Study and be ready at dawn.”
I nod and give him a soft smile for the kindness I know I don’t deserve, but he didn’t answer my question, and it eats at me. Damien returns the smile, and I turn to face the large window once more.
“Mara,” he calls, before fully stepping out.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think Crew is the type of guy to run away from something?”
No. No, I don’t.
“It’s not too late. Crew is a big, scary softy,” Damien says. “He’ll come around. Just let him explain when he does.”
“I’ll try.”
“He won’t stay mad long.”
I keep my eyes focused on the door as he closes it behind him. I hear his steps move toward the room next to mine, followed by a shout, and I can only assume he just walked in on something he didn’t want to see.
I stand, expecting pain to rattle my very core, and I’m surprised when only a dull sensation barks in response.
I move toward the bathroom, quickly changing into the clothes left for me—a red silk matching set that would make anyone blush—and move back into the room to find the folder sitting exactly where Damien stated.
I open the documents and start reading everything we need before we leave in the morning.
The people’s names, jobs, hobbies, and everything else are listed before me—all of which will lead us out of town and away for a few days.
I don’t read them all, skipping the last page as my eyes tire.
No matter how hard I try to focus on the task at hand, my mind wanders, and I catch myself glancing at the door, half tempted to slam my fist against Crew’s and demand we talk.
But similarly to what Damien walked in on with Locke, I’m not interested in seeing Crew fuck someone if he did disappear with that woman. There are many things we need to clear up, but I don’t think I’m in the best position to make Crew do anything right now.
A note falls from the folder, and I lean down to pick it up. I unfold the page and read.
Study this.
I hope you are as smart as you are mean.
Be ready at dawn,
Your bothersome demon,
- I mean gorgeous, Crew
The chuckle that bubbles in my throat quickly fades, knowing this couldn’t have been written after my outburst. Exhaustion weighs heavily on me as I close the folders, drained from reading about the people I’ll have to murder, before walking toward the large bed.
I throw back the covers and settle in, letting the cool sheets wrap around me.
My necklace falls to the side, but I keep it close.
A vibration seems to pulse from the jewel, and it’s comforting, making me feel less alone.
It doesn’t take long for sleep to find me.
An auburn glow fills the room as my eyes open.
With the sun not yet in the sky, the soft dawn rays contrast with the black walls, and confusion clouds my thoughts.
The covers are tucked around me, and not even a pillow is out of place.
I slept more deeply than I have in weeks, and it takes a moment to remember where I am.
I slowly sit up, wary of my back, and gasp as I feel a slight pain moving through my spine and shoulders. I gently stretch and wipe the sleep from my eyes. The room is beautiful in the first glow of the morning light, and I scan my surroundings, taking it all in.
As I become more aware, the realization hits me that it’s dawn—and I’m late.
Fuck.
I jump out of bed, rush across my room, and without thinking, rip open my heavy door. I hurry two rooms down and drive my fist into Crew Bannermin’s bedroom door. The thump travels around the empty halls, and I cringe at the loud noise so early in the morning.
Silence follows, and I look down, realizing I’m standing in my sheer, silk matching set that literally shows everything.
Oh no.
My nipples are out.
Heavy footsteps pull my gaze away from my outfit, and the door creaks open to reveal darkness inside.
My body goes rigid as it opens wider, exposing Crew in nothing but a towel wrapped around his muscular hips.
The large butterfly tattoo on his neck is accompanied by many more that extend all the way down his toned abdomen, and I can’t help but stare.
My jaw slackens as I see his bare, inked chest ripple with muscles that form a sharp ‘V’ pointing straight to his dick like a welcome sign.
Holy hell.
Look at him.
I step back, giving him space to step outside, leaving the door slightly open. I quickly cross my arms. His face is expressionless, and there’s no anger behind his silver eyes—only exhaustion.
“It’s… dawn,” I stammer. “I thought I was late.”
He glances over his shoulder and steps to the middle, as if shielding someone or something from my gaze.
“I’m getting dressed now,” he says, monotone. “Or I was.”
“Oh.”
“You aren’t late,” Crew continues, unimpressed.
Embarrassment rushes over me, and I suddenly feel stupid for standing outside his door. I step back and notice his gaze moving over my silk pajamas, slowly scanning from my toes to my head, but there's still no emotion in his bright eyes.
I hear something rustle behind him, and I grimace.
Holy shit. She must be in there.
“Shit,” I say aloud. “Again, I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m not late, I’m early.” I chuckle to myself, and he watches me intently, as if extremely confused.
Crew holds the towel in place and turns to walk back into his room.
His harsh expression sends a wave of nausea through me, and for the first time, I don’t feel angry when I look at him—I feel sadness.
I glance down and see the red wound I caused near his ribs and the scar on his shoulder from the bullet. From me.
“Can we talk?” I wearily ask. “I think we should.”
I grip my necklace and move the stone in my hands.
“About?” he asks, clearly uninterested.
“Hm,” I hesitate. “The assignment, last night… us.”
He barks a sarcastic laugh. “Us?”
“Yes?” I respond.
“There isn’t an us,” he nearly shouts. “There is me, and there is you. You made that abundantly clear.”
“Crew.” I uncomfortably stand before him. “Come on.”
“I have zero interest in a conversation.” He turns to walk away. “Or you.”
“I’m sor—” I begin to speak again.
“Be ready in twenty.”
“Alright.” Embarrassment and rejection wash over me again. “I can do that.”
“Alright.” He nearly bites my head off.
“Should I pack a bag?”
“Don’t fucking care what you do.”
“Oh, be serious,” I snap.
“I am.”
Crew slams the door in my face without another word, and I’m left standing in the hallway, feeling stupid, dressed in lingerie.
With my fucking nipples still out.