41. Chapter 41
Wren
Maya hasn't stopped shaking since we picked her up.
Even now, curled under a blanket on Theo's enormous sectional sofa, her hands tremble as she clutches a mug of hot chocolate.
Her eyes keep darting to the windows, as if expecting the killer to be peering in—never mind that we're twenty-eight floors up.
"This place is..." she trails off, looking around the spacious living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows and minimalist furniture. "It's like something out of a magazine."
I nod, settling beside her with my own mug. Theo's apartment is impressive—all sleek lines and muted colors, with subtle touches of luxury that speak of serious money without being ostentatious. The kind of place that looks effortless but costs a fortune.
"Drink," I tell her softly. "Sugar helps with shock."
She takes a sip obediently, then turns to me with haunted eyes. "I can't stop seeing it, Wren. Every time I close my eyes, I see—" She breaks off, swallowing hard. "His hands. Just... sitting there on the counter like some sick display."
I squeeze her shoulder, wishing I could take away the images burned into her mind. I know all too well how trauma lingers, how it plays on repeat when you least expect it.
"Movie?" I suggest, gesturing to Theo's massive television.
Maya nods gratefully. "Something mindless. Something with absolutely no blood or violence or..."
"Disney?" I offer with a small smile.
"God, yes. The most saccharine, happily-ever-after Disney you can find."
I queue up the most cheerful animated film I can find, then retrieve the bags of junk food Theo bought before leaving us alone. True to his word, he'd purchased enough chips, candy, and ice cream to feed a small army—or two traumatized women trying desperately to forget.
For the next few hours, we lose ourselves in animated worlds where good always triumphs over evil and everyone gets a happy ending. Maya gradually relaxes beside me, the trembling in her hands subsiding as she works her way through a bag of sour gummy worms.
"This is nice," she says during a lull between movies. "Almost makes me forget..."
I nod, understanding perfectly. "That's the idea."
She turns to study my face, her expression softening. "You're using your voice more. It sounds stronger."
I touch my throat self-consciously. "Trying. It’s still hard sometimes, pushing past my memories. Reminding myself I have a voice."
"Well, I think it's beautiful," she says firmly. "And brave. After everything you've been through..."
I shrug, uncomfortable with the praise. To distract her, I reach for more snacks, pushing a bowl of chocolate-covered pretzels toward her.
We start another movie, but I can tell Maya's attention is wandering. She keeps glancing at me, then away, as if there's something she wants to say but can't quite find the words.
Finally, during a musical number, she huffs and hits pause on the remote.
"Okay, enough distraction," she declares, turning to face me fully. "Tell me about this project you need my help with, the one you mentioned."
I hesitate, not sure if now is the right time. "It's not important. We can talk about it later."
"No," Maya says firmly. "I need something to focus on. Something that isn't..." She gestures vaguely, and I know she means the café, the blood, the horror she saw. "Please," she adds, her eyes pleading. "I need something else to think about. Something good."
How can I refuse her when she looks at me like that? I set aside my own bowl and reach for my phone, pulling up the photos I've been collecting for inspiration. Taking a deep breath, I begin to explain my idea for the launch party tomorrow.
Maya listens intently, her eyes gradually widening as I outline my plan. By the time I finish, she's sitting up straighter, the haunted look in her eyes temporarily replaced by excitement.
"That's... wow," she says, a genuine smile breaking through the tension for the first time all day. "That's actually brilliant, Wren. Bold. Sexy. A little dangerous, even."
I grin, pleased by her reaction. "Will you help me?"
"Are you kidding? Of course I'll help!" She studies my face for a moment, her expression becoming more thoughtful. "The stitches in your scalp will make it a little hard to pull off, but I have an idea."
She pulls out her phone, scrolling through images rapidly. "See, we can work with this. We'll need some specific supplies though..."
I watch as she makes a list, her fingers flying across the screen. It's good to see her focused on something other than the horror she witnessed this morning.
"I'll need to get all this tonight if we're going to have time to practice before the event tomorrow," she says, glancing up. "Do you think there's anywhere still open that would have what we need?"
I shake my head. "It's fine," I sign, then switch to my voice with effort. "I can cope without it. We can't ask anyone to do a supply run this late."
Maya stares at me, then bursts into laughter. "Are you serious right now? Do you have any idea what building you're in?"
I frown, confused by her reaction.
"Wren, honey, Theo is rich. Like, rich rich.
" She gestures around the apartment. "This building is home to tech billionaires and trust fund babies. If he doesn’t own this place outright, then the mortgage payments must be astronomical.
There's a concierge downstairs whose entire job is to fulfill ridiculous requests at all hours. "
A shudder runs through me at her words. Trust fund babies. Just like Levi, with his family's old money and the entitlement that came with it. The memory of his smug smile, his absolute certainty that he could do whatever he wanted without consequences, flashes through my mind.
Maya notices my discomfort and squeezes my hand. "Hey, I didn't mean to upset you. I just meant that whatever we need, the concierge will be happy to arrange it for us. That's literally their job."
I take a deep breath, pushing away the memory. "You're sure it's not an imposition?"
"Positive," she assures me. "Let's make a list and plan it out. The sooner we get started, the better our results will be tomorrow."
I nod, focusing on her enthusiasm rather than my own lingering unease. "Okay. Let's do it."
We spend the next half hour finalizing our list, Maya explaining each item's purpose with growing excitement. When we're done, she calls down to the concierge, who doesn't bat an eye at our unusual requests or the late hour. He simply promises that everything will be delivered within the hour.
"See?" Maya says triumphantly after hanging up. "Easy peasy."
I shake my head, amazed at how the other half lives . "Now what?" I sign.
"Now you show me what you're wearing tomorrow," she says, her eyes sparkling with renewed energy. "I need to make sure our plan complements your outfit."
I grin, standing up from the couch. "That's the other thing I need your help with," I say, my voice still growing stronger with practice. I cross to where my bags sit by the door and retrieve the dress Theo and I picked out, along with another parcel I brought from home.
Maya's eyebrows shoot up when I hold them both up. A slow, devious grin spreads across her face as she takes in what I'm showing her.
"Oh, my God," she breathes, standing to get a better look. "That's... that's evil. And absolutely perfect."
She reaches out to touch the dress, her fingers tracing the shimmery fabric. "Those two aren't going to know what hit them."
"That's the idea," I say, my own grin matching hers.
"Let's get to work," Maya declares, already clearing space on the coffee table for our supplies. "We've got a lot to do if we're going to pull this off."
For the next few hours, we plan every detail of tomorrow night. The concierge delivers our supplies exactly as promised, and Maya sets everything up on Theo's dining table like a general preparing for battle.
"You're sure about this?" she asks as we go over the final details. "It's a bold move."
I nod, more certain than I've been about anything in a long time. "I'm done hiding. Done being afraid. If Levi wants to find me, he will—whether I'm at home or at this event. At least this way, I get to be myself. I get to live my life."
Maya studies me for a long moment, then nods. "I'm proud of you, you know that? After everything you've been through... most people would crumble. But here you are, planning to knock the socks off your two hot boyfriends at a major industry event."
We work late into the night, perfecting our plan for tomorrow. By the time we finally collapse into bed—me in Theo's massive king-sized bed, Maya in the guest room—I feel a strange sense of calm.
Yes, there's a killer out there who's obsessed with me. Yes, he's escalating, becoming more violent, more public in his displays. But I refuse to let that define me anymore. Tomorrow night, I'll step into the spotlight on my own terms. I'll claim my voice, my body, my life as my own.
And if Levi is watching? Let him see exactly what he couldn't destroy.
Tomorrow night will be a statement—to Levi, to Jace and Theo, but most importantly, to myself. A declaration that I am more than what was done to me. More than a victim, more than a survivor.
I am Wren Maddox. And I am done being afraid.