Twenty-Seven Ella
TWENTY-SEVEN
Ella
“I know you’re good at this,” Wesley says to me, “but you seem familiar with this particular code. Have you, ah, seen it before?”
“It looks somewhat familiar, but I don’t know why.” I sit back as I lie to him. “I think I purged it from the system.”
He sits close beside me, glancing over his shoulder at the diamonds. They still glow with that sickly yellow tint, as if the sickness in the code has seeped into the stones themselves.
“I don’t think I can restore the stones,” I say.
He leans back, eyes flicking toward the sealed door. “We’re coming up on the two-hour deadline, and this place is airtight.”
“I know it is,” I murmur. “Hopefully she doesn’t want to kill us today.”
“I think she would love that,” he mutters.
I almost smile. “We didn’t save the diamonds now, did we?”
His gaze sharpens. “Did you do that on purpose?”
Of course I did it on purpose. I lie smoothly. “No. I can’t save the diamond. She’s going to need citrines if she wants my help with the energy.”
He appraises me. “Won’t that give you an in to the entire system?”
I shrug. “Not if she locks me out of the computer.”
The hum of the servers fills the pause. The room is colder than I first noticed, the air biting my skin the longer we sit.
Rows of black towers line the walls, blinking in uneven rhythm, throwing off pulses of pale yellow light.
It feels less like a server room and more like a machine breathing around us, steady, endless, watching.
He leans over, brushing his knuckles across my cheek. The touch is unexpected, and guilt stabs me hard. “So I’ve been thinking.”
Oh, crap. A pit drops in my stomach and I turn to focus on the stones.
Away from him. The diamonds dominate the center, their jagged edges catching every glow from the monitors, shadows crawling across the floor in fractured patterns.
The chill isn’t just from the air system.
It’s from the energy itself—wrong, unstable, turning this place into a tomb.
He doesn’t take the hint. “Ella, I think it’s time for us to take the next step. I know you like all your safe houses and running around town, but would you consider moving in with me?”
My mouth is suddenly dry. He’s smart, he’s sexy, he’s tall, blond, brilliant. “I can’t.”
His eyebrows arch. “Is it because of Justice Beathach?”
I choke, coughing hard even though there’s nothing in my throat. I clear it fast and then sneeze. Twice. “Why would you say that?”
“Bless you. I saw you two dance together at Alana’s wedding.”
“Oh,” I say lamely. I had even forgotten he was there.
Wesley shakes his head. “You know he’s a killer, right?”
“I do know that.” I don’t know what else to say.
I like Wesley. I like him a lot. It has been fun dating him, and it could have been even more fun if I’d let it go farther.
But with Justice, it’s different. Messy.
Dangerous. Half the time I want to kill him, and the other half I’m tearing his clothes off.
I ripped them off once already, and the memory makes my chest burn with guilt.
Even worse, I’m enjoying this game we’re playing.
My brain needs the challenge, and so does Justice.
I know there’s more to life than passion and sex. I know that. Wesley is hot. He’s steady. He’s brilliant. But he isn’t Justice.
“Why is it?” he asks.
I’ve been lost in my own head. “What?”
“That girls choose the bad boys. Not just the slightly reckless bad boys, but the bad, killer-monster-to-their-souls men beyond redemption.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m not choosing Justice.” My body might have done that, but it doesn’t mean we’re going to end up together. We don’t get along that well.
“Then why not give us a chance?” Wesley asks. He’s so reasonable.
I don’t have an answer.
He studies me for several moments. I like his attentiveness. I always have. But even so, I can’t stop comparing him to Justice, to the way Justice looks at me, the way his gaze burns straight through me. Maybe there’s something seriously wrong with me.
The hum of the server room fills the silence between us. Cold air pushes out of the vents above, steady and biting, wrapping around my arms until goosebumps rise.
Wesley leans in. “You know Justice helps run the Irish mafia, right?”
“Yes.” I sigh. “I am aware of his job.”
“Then why in the world would you want to get involved with him?”
It’s such a good question. “I’m not. I think you and I have nothing to do with anybody else. I like you, Wesley. A lot.”
He leans back in his chair and groans. “Oh no. Not the ‘I think you’re a great guy, Wesley’ speech.”
I wince. “You are a great guy.”
“Oh God, Ella, stop talking.” He runs a broad hand through his sandy blond hair, leaving it ruffled, making him look annoyingly adorable. “What do you want?”
It’s a good question. A fair one. “I don’t know.”
“You can’t possibly want an Irish mobster who kills people for fun.”
“No. I really don’t.” I swallow. “The whole killing-for-fun thing has never appealed to me. But I don’t think that’s Justice.” Oh, I realize that he’s killed people, but I don’t think he has any fun with it.
“You don’t know him.” Wesley snorts. “Honey, I’ve been in this business my whole life.
I know him.” He sobers. “Besides him being a very poor choice for you and an unsafe one, you’ve got to step back and look at the larger picture.
Alana and Thorn are married. That means Aquarius Social and Malice Media are aligned.
Although you’re on the outs with Sylveria, you are TimeGem. ”
The weight of it hits me all over again.
Wesley has no idea about the virus, no idea how close I came to tearing everything apart already.
If he knew, he wouldn’t be looking at me with that steady calm, wouldn’t be asking me to choose him.
His world is neat and rational. Mine is cracked down the center.
I shift in my chair, pretending to focus on the screen in front of us.
The code scrolls by, endless lines of white against black.
My hands hover over the keys, but my mind is caught between the cold hum of the servers and the warmth of Wesley’s hand brushing mine only minutes ago.
He doesn’t realize how much I’m hiding. He doesn’t realize how much guilt I’m choking on.
And I can’t let him.
He leans back, his chair creaking, as he continues drawing lines together for me. “If you and Justice end up together, that aligns TimeGem and Malice. That leaves Alexei Sokolov out in the cold. He won’t allow that to happen. He’ll take out one or both of you.”
My money’s on Justice in that fight. The thought is instant and unwelcome. Truth is, I have no idea. They’re both mob bosses. Maybe they’d kill each other. What I do know is that I don’t ever want to be on the opposite side of Rosalie.
“I don’t look at life that way,” I tell him.
He tilts his head, a small smile tugging. “I know. You’re all heart.”
“No, I’m not. I’m all brain,” I shoot back. “I’m phenomenal with computers.”
“Yeah, but I still think that’s your heart,” he murmurs.
The words sink into me, sweet and painful all at once. I draw in a long breath. “Wesley, I just think—”
He lifts a hand, cutting me off. “No. We’re not breaking up while we’re trapped in this server room.”
I fall quiet. The truth is, I’m not sure we’ve ever been anything real. We never agreed to be exclusive. But he watches me, steady and certain, and the weight of that gaze presses on me until my chest feels tight.
He places his warm hand over mine. “I need you to think about this carefully, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
The door unlocks with a heavy click, the sound sharp over the hum of the servers. Cold air rushes across the floor as Sylveria strides in, her gown sweeping behind her. Two guards shadow her, silent and alert.
I lift my chin and give her my coldest stare. “We tracked a computer virus through your system and neutralized it. But I can’t do anything about your diamonds, which were somehow infected by this virus.” Playing dumb doesn’t sit well with me.
Her gaze slides to the center of the room where the stones pulse with that sickly yellow. “A computer virus infected my diamonds?” Her lips press into a white line. “That’s unacceptable.”
Ha. If she only knew. “It’s worse than that. I’m concerned that the virus has also infected you. If so, it could spread to any diamond you use.” I’m so curious.
“That’s ludicrous. Humans can’t catch a computer virus.
” She squares her shoulders, eyes locking on me.
Thoughts flash across her face as she no doubt thinks it through.
As someone who exchanges energy with a stone, she knows their power.
I can see the acceptance when it hits her. “Did you do this?” she snaps.
“I didn’t.” The words are sharp, and for once, they’re honest. I didn’t do it this time. “This wasn’t me. I don’t know who did it, but there’s only one way to find out. Do you have another diamond you could try to charge?”
“Of course I do.” She sweeps across the room to a recessed storage panel. Her palm unlocks the seal, and she pulls out a diamond the size of a marble. It gleams faintly in her hand.
The server fans whir faster, filling the room with a low rush of air. Wesley leans forward, his chair scraping against the concrete, gaze fixed on Sylveria. My own pulse picks up, a sick twist of dread and curiosity.
She draws a breath and centers herself. Energy stirs, faint at first, then stronger, and the gem flares with a soft glow. For a second, it’s almost beautiful. Then a crack splinters across the surface, and the glow yellows, bleeding from the edges inward.
Wesley glances at me, his jaw tightening.
“It’s compromised,” I say. “You now carry the virus.”
Sylveria closes her hand around the fractured stone and opens it again. The crack remains. She frowns. “I caught a virus from a computer. Did you know this could happen?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I’ve seen some data that it’s possible.” Of course I know all the data, but she doesn’t need to realize that. I didn’t think it would happen like this. “At least it’s not killing you.”
“A computer virus can’t kill a person,” she says.
Oh, how wrong she is. “Who the heck knows? We’ve never truly understood how humans exchange energy with crystals.”
She stares at the damaged gem. “So now I can’t charge the diamonds.” She speaks slowly, as if testing the words.
I do imagine that would suck. “Have Corinda and Stacia tried to charge the damaged stones?”
“Corinda has,” Sylveria whispers, paling. Her blue eyes shoot sparks.
“What about Stacia? Can she charge diamonds?” Wesley asks.
Sylveria’s nostrils flare. “Yes, but not with the skill I have. She doesn’t have enough of a connection to the gems to be the sole charging force.”
The hum of the servers grows louder, a steady pulse in the walls. I shift my weight, keeping one eye on the diamonds in the center. They glow faintly, yellow where they should burn clear, and the sight twists my stomach.
“There might be a cure for your virus,” I say. “I just don’t know what it is.” That much is the truth. There’s no way I can duplicate what Alana did to save Thorn. I don’t have that connection with Sylveria or with diamonds.
She walks to the cabinet, her gown whispering over the floor, and pulls out a citrine the size of a bowling ball. The beauty gleams under the sterile lights. “I guess you’re going to have to charge this, aren’t you?”
My blood starts to hum, and I have to fight every instinct in my body not to connect to the stone. “I’m not going near that.”
“Excuse me?” She looks stunned, and so does Wesley.
Yeah, I would freaking love to charge a citrine here. “I have no idea what’s been infected and what hasn’t. If I’m going to charge a citrine, it’s going to be one I acquire, not one that comes from you. Every gem in this place might be infected, and I’m not willing to risk that.”
She smiles, cold and deliberate. “I could just suffocate and kill you.”
“You sure could,” I say cheerfully. “But that leaves you up shit creek, doesn’t it? Unless you think Stacia can take over full time for you.” I’m bluffing. If I have to, I’ll charge that citrine. She probably knows it.
She studies me for a long moment, her fingers still curled around the citrine.
Then she smiles, all teeth, as she places it gently on the desk next to the computer.
“I guess that’s up to you, then.” She sweeps toward the door and steps outside, her skirts brushing the floor.
The lock engages behind her with a sharp click.
At first, nothing changes. Then the vents overhead shift, the hum turning hollow. My next breath catches in my throat, thinner than the last.
Wesley meets my gaze. He doesn’t have to say a word. We both know what she’s done.
The air is already running out.