19. Nineteen
NINETEEN
WRENLY
I woke up, stretching my arms above my head, and searched for Theo. His spot was empty beside me, the sheets cold and disheveled. As the sun descended below the horizon, I slipped out of bed, my bare feet landing with a thud on the hardwood floor, and peeked into the adjoining bathroom.
Empty.
“Theo?” I called out, my voice still husky with sleep.
No response.
I reached for my phone, but then I remembered I’d left it at the house when we’d rushed out earlier. Glancing around the room, my eyes landed on a laptop sitting on the desk in the corner. With nothing else to do while waiting for Theo to return, I decided I would check my iCloud messages on his laptop.
I sat in the chair and opened the laptop, tapping a key to wake it from sleep mode. I quickly navigated to the iCloud login page and entered my credentials.
As I waited for it to load, a pop-up at the bottom of the screen appeared, saying, “Movement detected—Wrenly’s Front Door.”
My curiosity piqued, I clicked on the notification. A file opened with a recording of the mailman dropping off a package on my front porch. Why was a camera set up at my front door? More importantly, why was the feed sent to Theo’s laptop?
I minimized the window and began searching through the other files on the desktop, looking for any clues that might explain what the fuck was going on. There were folders labeled Wrenly’s Kitchen, Wrenly’s Living Room, Wrenly’s Backyard, and Wrenly’s Bedroom.
With a shaking hand, I double-clicked on each folder, and a series of video thumbnails appeared on the screen. Each was time stamped with a different date and time, going back several weeks. I clicked on one in my bedroom, and my heart nearly stopped as I watched myself get into bed. The video version of me reached into my nightstand and pulled out a vibrator, slowly sliding it under the covers. My face flushed with embarrassment and rage as I realized Theo had been spying on me, watching my most intimate moments without my knowledge or consent.
With trembling fingers, I clicked through more of the videos, each one a further violation of my privacy. Tears blurred my vision as I watched myself going about my daily life, completely unaware of the cameras capturing my every move.
The sound of Theo’s bedroom door opening startled me, and I knew it was him before he even said a word.
“How long?” I asked, not bothering to turn around.
His footsteps paused behind me, and the silence stretched between us.
“Wren, I can explain,” he finally said, his voice tight.
I spun around in the chair. “How fucking long, Theo?”
He shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet my gaze. “It’s not what you think.”
“Not what I think?” I scoffed, gesturing to the laptop screen. “You have videos of me fucking myself in my bedroom, but it’s not what I think!”
He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “I was trying to protect you, Wrenly. I set up those cameras because I was worried about your safety.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Protect me? By watching me touch myself in my bedroom? How exactly does that protect me, Theo? So I’ll ask you one last time. How long have you been watching me?”
He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Since the day after Connor hit you. I used the spare key after changing your locks and installed them while you were in class.”
I stood, my fists clenched at my sides. “I trusted you. I let you into my life, into my heart. And this whole time, you’ve been watching me like some fucking pervert.”
He reached for me, but I jerked away from his touch. “Baby, please. Just let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” I spat. “I don’t want to see you again.”
I pushed past him, grabbed my purse, and headed for the door, but he seized my arm and pulled me back. “Wrenly, wait!”
I yanked my arm free, glaring at him with all the fury and betrayal I felt. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever fucking touch me again.”
I stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me. Tears streamed down my face as I ran down the hallway, desperate to put as much distance between myself and him as possible. My feet carried me down the front entrance stairs, the stones cold and unforgiving beneath my bare soles, until I reached my car. I dug through my purse for my car keys, half expecting to see him following behind me, but he wasn’t.
I didn’t know if that made me happy or sad. All I knew was I needed to get the fuck away from here before I had a panic attack. I got into my car, slamming the door shut behind me. My hands shook as I jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, and I pressed down on the gas pedal, speeding out of the roundabout and down the lane. I’d thought he’d been different and that he’d genuinely cared about me. But it had all been a lie. He was just another manipulative, possessive asshole who had no respect for boundaries.
I drove aimlessly for what felt like hours, my vision blurred by the constant stream of tears. Eventually, I found myself pulling into the parking lot of a small, dingy bar on the outskirts of town. I needed a drink, or several, to numb the pain and betrayal coursing through my veins.
The bar was nearly empty, save for a few regulars nursing their beers at the counter. I slid onto a stool and ordered a double shot of whiskey, downing it in one burning gulp. The bartender eyed me warily but poured me another without comment.
I lost track of how many I had, the whiskey dulling my senses and blurring the edges of my pain. The bartender had long since cut me off, but I didn’t care. As I sat there, hunched over my empty glass, a man who looked to be in his mid-forties slid onto the stool next to me. I glanced over, taking in his dark hair and ice-blue eyes. He looked vaguely familiar, but in my drunken state, I couldn’t quite place him.
“Rough morning?” he asked.
I may have been drunk, but I swore he had a Russian accent.
I let out a bitter laugh. “You could say that.”
He signaled the bartender for two more drinks, sliding one in front of me. “Vodka.”
“Thanks.” I threw back the shot, coughing as it burned my throat. “Jesus. That’s fucking strong. What kind of vodka is that?”
“Stolichnaya.”
“Sounds Russian.”
“That’s because it is,” the man said with a smirk. “Imported directly from the motherland.”
“It burns all the way down.”
The man chuckled as he extended his hand. “I’m Igor.”
I hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. I thought about giving him my real name, but why start telling the truth now? I had already lied to Theo about who I really was. What was one more lie to a stranger?
“Raven,” I replied, my voice slurring slightly.
“Raven,” he repeated, rolling the R . “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
I scoffed, turning back to my empty glass. “I’m not in the mood for flattery, Igor.”
He placed a hand on my arm, and for some reason, my skin felt like it wanted to crawl off my body and hide. Despite the alcohol dulling my senses, a flicker of unease stirred in my gut. Something about how he looked at me, his blue eyes cold and calculating, set off warning bells in my head.
I studied him more closely, trying to place where I had seen him before. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure. Perhaps our paths have crossed before in another life.” His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic.
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of alcohol. “No, that’s not it. I swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”
Igor leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Maybe you saw me in your dreams, krasavitsa .”
I jerked back, nearly falling off the stool. “I . . . I have to go to the bathroom,” I mumbled, stumbling to my feet. The room spun around me as I fumbled for my purse.
His hand shot out, gripping my wrist tightly. “So soon? But we were just getting to know each other.” His voice had lost its charming lilt, now cold and demanding.
Fear surged through my veins, cutting through the haze of intoxication. I yanked my arm free, backing away from him. “Don’t touch me,” I hissed.
He stood from his stool, towering over me. His face twisted into a sinister smirk as he stepped toward me. “Now, now, there’s no need to be rude, Raven . I thought we were having a nice conversation.”
I staggered back, my heart pounding. The few other patrons in the bar seemed oblivious to the situation, too absorbed in their drinks and misery. I glanced at the bartender, but he had disappeared into the back room.
“Stay away from me,” I warned, my voice trembling.
He let out a low, menacing chuckle. “Or what? Will you scream? Go ahead, krasavitsa . No one here will care. They’ve seen far worse in this shithole of a bar.”
He lunged forward, grabbing my arm in a bruising grip. I cried out in pain and fear, struggling against his hold. With my free hand, I reached for an empty vodka glass on a table near the bar and smashed it against his head with all the strength I could muster.
He roared in pain, releasing his grip. Blood trickled down his temple and my palm from where the glass had shattered against his skull. I didn’t wait for him to recover. I bolted for the door, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
I burst out of the bar into the chilly air, gasping for breath. My car was parked at the far end of the lot, and I stumbled toward it on unsteady legs. The alcohol and adrenaline coursing through my system made it hard to think straight.
Behind me, I heard the bar door slam open. Heavy footsteps pounded on the pavement, getting closer with each passing second.
“You shouldn’t have done that, malen’kaya ptichka ,” Igor shouted, his voice laced with fury and something far more sinister.
Panic seized my chest as I fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking so badly that I could barely get it into the lock. Just as I managed to wrench the door open, a large hand clamped down on my shoulder, spinning me around. I didn’t think; I just fought, and that meant throwing my fist out as hard as I could, hitting the face of my assailant.
“Oh fuck! Wren, it’s me,” Theo cried out, holding his hand to his mouth.
I blinked in confusion, my alcohol-and-fear-addled brain struggling to process the sight of Theo standing before me, blood dripping from his busted lip where my fist had connected.
“Theo? What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked him while I scanned the parking lot, but Igor was nowhere in sight.
He winced, gingerly touching his lip. “I tracked you because you didn’t go home.”
“What? How?”
“GPS tag in your purse.” He recoiled, protecting his face in case I punched him again.
I stared at him in disbelief. “You put a tracking device in my purse? What the actual fuck, Theo?”
He held up his hands defensively. “I know. It sounds bad when I say it out loud. I just wanted to keep you safe.”
I scoffed. “Safe? You’ve been spying on me, violating my privacy in the most intimate ways possible, and now you’re stalking me? That’s not keeping me safe, Theo. That’s psycho behavior.”
He took a step toward me, his eyes pleading. “Baby, please. I know I fucked up. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel violated. I just . . . I care about you so much. The thought of anything happening to you terrifies me.”
I shook my head, tears burning in my eyes. “If you cared about me, you would have respected my privacy and my boundaries. You would have trusted me to take care of myself.”
“I do trust you. But there are dangerous people out there, people who would hurt you to get to me. I was trying to protect you from them.”
I laughed bitterly. “Like the guy in the bar just now? The one who grabbed me and threatened me? Where were you and your cameras then?”
His eyes widened in alarm. “What guy? What happened in there?”
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed. “Some Russian creep. He was hitting on me, but there was something off about him. When I tried to leave, he grabbed me and threatened me.”
Theo’s face darkened with anger. “Did he hurt you? I swear to god if he laid a hand on you . . .”
I shook my head. “No, I managed to get away. Smashed a glass against his head and ran like hell. But I recognized him from somewhere. I just can’t place it.”
Theo’s brow furrowed in concern. “What did he look like?”
I described Igor to him—mid-forties with dark hair, ice-blue eyes, and a Russian accent.
“He called me . . . my-lenkai teech-kuh or something like that when I hit him. It was like he knew who I was.”
Theo’s eyes widened. “ Malen’kaya ptichka ?”
“Yeah, that’s it. What does it mean?”
“ Little bird ,” he responded quietly, lost in his thoughts.
“Are you oka—” I began to ask but then realized what he had said. “Little bird? The nickname you gave me? Why would he call me the name you call me, Theo?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“Theo? Wh?—”
“What did you say his name was?” He cut me off mid-sentence .
“Igor.” As I spoke, his face grew pale. “Why?”
“It seems like the demons of my past are back to haunt me.”
I stared at him in shock. “What?”
He ran a hand over his face, looking suddenly exhausted. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you. About my past, about the people I thought were dead.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What people?”
He shook his head. “It’s a long story, and this isn’t the place to tell it. I need to get you somewhere safe.”
I crossed my arms, my earlier anger resurfacing. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me the truth. All of it.”
He looked around the parking lot, his eyes scanning the shadows. “Not here. I promise I’ll explain everything, but we need to go. Now.”
The urgency and fear in his voice made me hesitate. Despite my reluctance, I realized I still trusted him to some extent. If he claimed we were in danger, I took his word for it.
I nodded, albeit unwillingly. “Fine. But you better start talking in the car.”
Moving to the passenger side I settled into the leather seat, remaining quiet as he sped out of the parking lot into the night.