Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
VALEN
Showering made me feel like a new person, and I spent the rest of the day with Rip, securing an airtight plan for Clover’s safety. But now I’m standing on her front porch with a dog the size of a small horse and absolutely no idea what to say.
A protection detail has never been so…complicated. It feels like a first date, and I don’t date. Not really.
“Knock, ya big ninny.” Chief hisses from the side of the house.
I take one step back to find him and Roman hiding behind a bush.
Jesus Christ.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I growl.
“Heading to the hospital to check in with Greyson as soon as you get your ass in that house.” Roman chuckles.
Aunt Vivi always made me feel like one of her boys, but at this particular moment, I’d be okay being an only child.
“Knew he was a chickenshit.” Chief isn’t even trying to whisper now. “You owe me twenty bucks.”
“You bet against me?” I hiss.
Chief shrugs, so I knock out of spite and instantly regret being baited.
After a long three minutes, Clover’s wide eyes greet me, and my chest does a weird aching thing while my tongue forgets what it’s supposed to do.
“Hi,” she says softly, sweetly, gently. So careful in everything she does. What’s she like when she…lets go?
“Hi.” I gesture toward Wrecks, who’s currently gnawing on her porch railing, so I tug him back to me by his leash. “Chief said you’re the proud new owner of this beast.”
“Apparently.” She glances down at Wrecks, and the worry and fear that were hiding in her expression melt away, right before he lunges at her.
“For fuck’s sake,” I growl, widening my stance and holding him back.
Her laughter catches me off guard, and my grip slips. Wrecks tears ass and sticks his nose right into the center of her belly. “It’s okay,” she giggles. “He won’t hurt me. Come on in.” She frowns over my shoulder, then waves. “Why are Chief and Roman hiding behind my hydrangeas?”
“Spying,” I grumble.
As soon as we cross the threshold, Wrecks makes himself at home by sprawling across her family room floor.
“Spying?” She giggles again, but it’s so soft I nearly miss it because I’m scowling at the wild beast who’s already snoring. “He’s…large.”
“He needs training,” I mutter.
A dimple appears on her cheek, and an offer to train the mutt is on the tip of my tongue, but her smile deepens, showing another dimple, and all my rational thoughts evaporate into thin air.
“Would you like some coffee? Or tea? Be careful what you choose in public though—you’ll make friends and enemies on both sides of our coffee versus tea debate.”
“That’s…”
“Endearing?” she says as I grumble, “Strange.”
“Sure.” My shoulder muscles relax. “We’ll go with endearing. I’ll take a coffee if you have some made. Thanks.”
I scan her walls, the end tables, the windows, the snow globes that still flutter glitter around them—they must be battery-operated. I’m not the least bit uncomfortable in her space. It’s…not normal.
I don’t relax. Not in new places. Not even at home, if I’m being completely honest.
Straightening my spine, I follow her into the kitchen, where she pours two mugs with hands that are only slightly shaking. It’s better than she was earlier. It’s progress.
“Madi and Elle left about an hour ago,” she says, handing me a mug. “Madi went to the hospital, and Elle had to get back to her daughter.” She taps her chin, a small line forming between her brows. It’s the only imperfection I can find. “They made me promise to text them every hour.”
Because of her stalker? Or because I’m camped outside?
“It’s good to have people checking on you,” I say instead.
“It’s excessive.”
“It’s what people do when they care.”
She studies me over the rim of her mug. I must have said the right thing because she’s smiling again—the first rays of sun after a long, cold winter.
We stand in her kitchen like awkward teenagers, drinking coffee to fill the silence, until Wrecks barks from the living room—one sharp, demanding sound that has Clover sloshing coffee over the rim of her cup.
“He probably needs to go out,” she says, setting down her mug.
“Already? He was just outside.”
“Elle said he’s curious, and if you don’t let him explore, he gets…destructive.” She uses a paper towel to dry her hands. “I’ll take him.”
“I’m coming.” I take a moment to soften my demanding tone. “For security. In case—”
“Security. Of course.” She’s already moving toward the door, so I can’t see her face, but her words are stilted, and I sigh in response.
She has Wrecks’s leash in hand before I even make it to the family room, but we step outside together, Wrecks dragging Clover down the porch steps. He’s too damn excitable. The dog is going to hurt her.
“He’s strong,” she chuckles, bracing herself with all her weight against the force of his forward motion.
“Here.” I take the leash from her, our fingers brushing for half a second, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end.
What the fuck was that?
“I’ve got him.” My voice is thick, but not with tension. No, I don’t know how to describe the assault happening inside me from a single touch.
The warm, fuzzy feeling vanishes when the same dark sedan from last night rolls down the street. It’s going too slowly to be a casual drive-by, and I drift my free hand toward my holster.
Luckily, Clover doesn’t notice. She’s busy watching Wrecks investigate a neighborhood free library box as though it holds all the secrets of the universe, but I clock the plate and don’t take my eyes off the car until it rounds the corner.
As soon as it’s out of sight, I loosen my grip on Wrecks’s leash and force my biceps to unlock.
Wrecks takes his sweet-ass time walking us through the neighborhood. He sniffs everything, while marking every tree, mailbox, and decorative lawn gnome in a three-block radius with a single drop of piss.
Why won’t he just let that fucking stream go?
Clover walks beside me, wrapped in a cardigan despite the early fall heat wave, her brow furrowed as though she’s lost in thought, mumbling numbers on repeat.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“Yes.” The word is barely above a whisper again.
“The counting. Does it help you?”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “It’s—” Sadness clouds her eyes before she looks away. “It’s something you taught me.”
My steps falter. “Me?”
She nods, biting her lip so hard the skin turns white around her teeth.
“When I was…” She pauses and taps her chin again. “I don’t even know. Twelve?” She takes a step, and I follow on autopilot. “You taught me to count to five because I can survive anything for five seconds.”
A new vision attempts to surface, and I nearly stumble over a crack in the pavement.
Little Clover, locked in a dark room, teeth chattering as she tried to whisper. Tiny fingers slide beneath the door, and I wrap them in mine. They’re ice-cold. I can’t warm hers fast enough.
“Valen?” She steps in front of me, clutching my biceps and forcing me to focus on her face. “Are you okay? W-what happened?” Her gaze darts to every tree, every car. Fear is alive and festering inside her.
Her reaction snaps me out of the vision—a memory I, for once, wish I could forget again.
“They…” My voice breaks. I hate the weakness. I will be strong for this woman. “You always wore white. And if you got in trouble…”
Her throat works as though she’s choking on air. Then she releases me, grabs Wrecks’s leash, and moves forward at a much faster pace.
She speedwalks while her mind runs from whatever hell is trapped in her memories—innately, I know that’s the truth because I do the same thing.
It takes a moment for my feet to work, and when they do, I jog to catch up to her.
“When I got in trouble, I was sent to…to the room.” She says it with such sadness that I feel sick. “Mr. Styx made sure I went.”
She’s staring at me as though that should mean something, but I’m coming up blank.
“Is that your dad? Mr. Styx?”
The leash slips in Clover’s hand, and she lurches forward like a baby giraffe to catch it. I get to it before she does and hand it back to her, but she won’t look at me. “No, Valen. Mr. Styx wasn’t my father. He was an elder—Terra’s right-hand man. At least until he…left ROS.”
“You’re not referring to her as my mother.” I noticed it earlier, the way she hedges my connection to her unless absolutely necessary, but it stands out to me now.
“No, you asked me not to. You said she was dead to you, to us, and—”
“Woof.” Wrecks barks and takes off after a squirrel, dragging a shocked Clover behind him.
“Gah.” She doesn’t even scream. It’s more like a “whoopsie,” and then she windmills her free arm. I react on instinct and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her back to my chest.
For three heartbeats, neither of us moves. I feel her breathe, fast and shallow. There’s a floral scent coming from her hair, and I fight the urge to bury my nose in it. Then Wrecks barks again, and the spell shatters.
He’s such an asshole.
“Guess we’ll have to work up to walks,” I say, scowling at her new furry friend. “He’s going to break you.”
She’s still pressed under my arm and pats my belly before pulling away, but my entire body comes alive with her touch.
“It’s hard to break what’s already been shattered, Valen. Wrecks is a good pup.” She turns to the overactive nightmare. “Right, Wrecks? You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”
Holy shit. I might be jealous of a fucking dog.
“So,” she says, down on one knee with her face buried into Wrecks’s scruff. The Bernese mountain dog swallows her with his fur. “The journals. How many do you have?”
It’s a record scratch in my mind. “What do you mean, how many?”
Clover’s shoulders curl in. “I thought Terra destroyed them all.” She plucks at her bottom lip. “Maybe you have the one we hid.”
There are more journals. My cousins were right. “I was hoping we could talk about the entries. There are things I don’t understand. Things written in—”
“Code,” she finishes. “You had to. If Terra found them—”
“She would have hurt me.”