Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
KAOS
I woke early.
The scent of her was everywhere in the room.
I remembered it from before—a heady, vibrant mix of roses and sweet vanilla—but it was so much more potent now.
It woke up parts of my brain that had long since been dormant.
Last night, I hadn’t been prepared for seeing her in the moonlight, silver illuminating the curves of her body, hair spread out over the pillow and long legs tangled in the sheets.
I hadn’t intended to touch her then, but her pull had been too strong.
Her beauty was a mockery, a reminder of what we could have had with someone else.
I slid out of bed carefully, intending to check on her.
My brain was clear this morning, the sunlight of my emotions unhampered by the usual thick fog I lived with.
They were so bright and burned uncomfortably strong, but it was important that I pushed through it today.
The shame was there, ever present, but I needed to be alert so I could deal with the Crimson Duchess.
I didn’t care about the commands that Finch had given her. She was Thaddeus’s daughter, and I didn’t trust her one inch. I had seen firsthand how she could be just as cruel as he was.
I left the room carefully, checking for an ambush, and walked down the corridor, keeping my footsteps light. Laurel was curled up where I’d left her on the couch, and as I watched, a black cat leapt up beside her. She lifted her head, her hair poofing around her in a tangled mess.
The cat started kneading her leg, a purr rumbling to life. “Mrow?” it said, butting its head against her face.
“Someone’s a bit pushy,” she said, her voice muted with the dregs of sleep as the scrawny fluffball settled on her lap.
My lip curled. If we were going to be stuck with her, I’d be sure to make the most of it. She could say goodbye to blissful moments like this.
I stepped into the room, my footsteps audible, and Laurel turned to look at me as the black cat fled. “Even cats can’t stand you,” I mused, watching the cat disappear under a chair.
“He’s got anxiety,” she said, arms wrapping around herself. I snorted, and she narrowed her eyes. “He’s a rescue. From an abusive home. He hid under my bed for a week when he got here. And you’re invading his safe space.”
Right. Sorry, but a cat with anxiety was the least of my problems right now.
Laurel straightened her back and folded her arms on her lap as I walked over to the other couch. Her sweet, floral scent was stronger here, and it drew in my mind. The shame that always ate at me was easier to ignore, and the usual ever-present buzz in my veins was cooling.
She stiffened as I sat down and put my feet up. Good. “Get me breakfast. And coffee. Then come stand here,” I ordered, waving in front of me.
I heard her mutter furiously to herself as she got up and went to the counter. A smile crept onto my face as I heard her slamming things closed in the kitchen much harder than she needed to. Amusement hadn’t come easily for such a long time, yet I found myself delighted at her little tantrum.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I felt her approach me. She leaned over me to set down a black coffee and a bagel, and I flinched as her arm brushed mine. Her skin was just as soft and warm as it had been last night.
She sucked in a breath as I pulled away from her. Her scent had taken on a fragile, pained note.
I ignored her and took my time enjoying my breakfast and coffee. She stood in front of me, as I had ordered, getting more and more restless but unable to leave.
“I’d like to go get ready for the day,” she said finally.
“Huh,” I said, not looking at her. The smile tugged on my face again as she gave a huff, almost too quiet to hear.
“I might be late if I don’t start soon.”
I looked up this time to find she’d folded her arms over her chest. “That must really suck for you,” I replied, raising my brows.
Finch appeared from the bedroom, dressed and ready for the day. He grabbed himself a coffee and sat in front of us, giving Laurel a strange look.
“Can I move?” she asked.
“Why don’t you sit down,” said Finch, waving at the seat beside me. “We’ve got some things to discuss.”
Apparently, that was enough to release her, and she sat down next to me.
“Right.” Finch was either dense or deliberately ignoring her death glares. “So, today, you’re going to help us map out the interior of the building, particularly the cages. Everything you know about security. We’re going to make a plan to get Ocean out.”
He paused, looking at both of us before addressing Laurel.
“I also need you to get me a place here. With full VIP privileges. Preferably one of these villas close by. I need to be able to walk around here without having to dodge cameras all the time.”
“You’re leaving?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, sounding tired. “One of us still needs to be out there.”
But that meant he’d be leaving me here, in this house.
Of course.
Finch had always seen what Ocean had missed. The monster in the mirror. He could barely stand me, and I didn’t blame him for wanting to get away.
“I can’t do that,” Laurel cut in. “If I tried to request a villa for you, my father would be breathing down our necks in seconds. You’ll have to try and book one the normal way.”
“There’s no one you can ask who can call in a favour?” Finch asked.
She made a face like she was sucking on a lemon and didn’t reply.
“Answer me. Do you know someone who could make that request?”
“Yes,” she muttered furiously. “But I can’t ask—” She cut herself off with a gasp, her face going red. “I can’t—” She tried again but winced, unable to finish. A muscle in her jaw twitched, and her brow furrowed. “I would prefer to find a different way,” she gritted out finally.
“Is this the easiest way?” I asked, enjoying how mad she was getting. It was simpler than ruminating on Finch leaving me.
“Yes.”
“Will it work?” I continued.
“Probably,” she spat, “but—”
“Great. So that’s what you’re going to do,” I finished.
Her face was going red, but she took a breath, folding her hands on her lap as she took a moment to settle herself.
She offered Finch a sweet smile. “Look, this contact…his name’s Soren Rosania.
” Finch’s eyes widened, and her smile brightened as she noticed.
That name did sound vaguely familiar. “You’ve heard of him?
I’m sure you can see what a waste it would be to ask him for something as simple as forged identity documents.
Not when it would be smarter to save this contact for something we may need later? ”
“No, that’s even better,” Finch said, and her smile faltered. “Ask him for the documents, a villa, and for his backing for my cover. And you’re sure he’ll agree?”
“No,” she replied, eyes flashing triumphantly.
“Aw, come on. Who’s gonna say no to that face?” I asked, reaching over and pinching her cheek.
She flinched back with a snarl, and I grinned.
“What’s the harm in asking? When can you see him?” Finch asked her.
“I have an appointment today,” she gritted out.
“Isn’t that just perfect?” I said. “He says no, we go from there.”
She sniffed in disdain and stood from the table. “Anything else you’re going to order me to do before I start my day?”
Finch shook his head.
I pretended to consider, holding her eyes for a long time. “Nope,” I finally said, and she gave another little huff before she stalked off to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
After she left, I studied Finch. He probably couldn’t wait to go, but we still had more to talk about.
“She doesn’t recognize me,” I said, drumming my fingers on the coffee table. I wasn’t sure if I was offended or not.
No, scratch that.
I definitely was.
It was the least she could do, really.
“No. She seems to think we’re common criminals. Let’s keep it like that for now. The less she knows, the better for us.”
“Didn’t you order her not to spill any secrets?”
Finch frowned. “Yes, but it’s impossible to make a command completely airtight. And if we reveal that we’re here to destroy her and her father, it gives her even more motivation to try and find a loophole. Better safe than sorry.”
I shrugged. Suppose I couldn’t argue with that.
It was about half an hour before Laurel glided out of the bathroom, chin raised high. Her hair flowed serenely down her back to her waist, and her makeup was impeccably done. She didn’t glance our way as she swept across the living room and opened the door.
“Have fun, princess!” I called.
She didn’t react outwardly, but I felt the flicker of annoyance in the bond as she slammed the door closed behind her.
By mid-morning, the energy I’d woken with was ebbing, and I could feel the tendrils of fog starting to cloud my mind. The happy mood that had come with Laurel had left with her, too, and in its place, dark thoughts were creeping back in.
Guilt, shame, fear, self-loathing…classic stuff, really. Old friends, and ones I was more than happy to try and drown in the fog. I breathed slowly, and my body took over, inviting me to a place of peace.
Calm.
Away from it all.
There had been a reason I’d pulled myself out of the peaceful numbness, but it was becoming harder and harder to remember why.
I kept finding myself blinking, unable to find my train of thought. My movements felt sluggish, my body hesitant to respond. My world was narrowing, my thoughts only able to catch slivers of things that seemed important.
Ocean.
I cared about him.
There was an omega, one I hated.
And Finch, he was here. He was helping, right?
Not like me. I was just a burden.
I stared down to where a coffee mug was gripped in my hand. Had I just finished this drink, or was I about to fill it up?
The mug, little bastard, was not giving up its secrets easily. I squinted down, trying to figure it out. There was some liquid in the bottom, but it was water. I could have just cleaned it after using it…or before I was about to use it. It wasn’t giving anything away.
This was a smug mug. It didn’t have a face, but I could tell.
Finch popped up beside me, causing me to jump. He wordlessly poured coffee from an urn into my cup, and then his.
Ha. Take that, smug mug.
I looked up at Finch. I should probably say something. What was it again? Why didn’t my brain work right?
“Thanks,” I said, staring at him. He handed me a cookie.
“Thought we could watch a movie?” he offered.
Huh.
Finch wanted to watch a movie with me?
Maybe I was dreaming.
Yeah, I must because real-life Finch was leaving me. Real-life Finch avoided me like the plague.
It would explain why everything smelled like vanilla and roses.
Nothing had ever smelled so good in real life.