Chapter 27
I should be working, making plans, building strategies against Malcolm and the Institute. Not…this. Not obsessing, not thinking about when and how I’m going to drag Cason back to me.
The feed flickers quietly on the tablet in my hands, Cason’s apartment pulled up in perfect clarity. I’ve been watching it long enough that I know the flow of it. When he moves, when he doesn’t. The way he fills space even when he’s alone.
I shouldn’t be sitting here in the study of the safehouse, watching and waiting for him, knowing that he hasn’t been home in over twenty-four hours.
But then the door finally opens, and there he is. Alive. Relief unfurls some of the tension in my chest.
Cason disappears down the hallway, and I pick up the glass of Scotch I’ve been sipping on and take another drink.
After several minutes, he comes back, his green hair wet, damp strands clinging to his forehead and dripping water onto his glasses.
Gray sweatpants hang low on his hips, a light pink, oversized shirt slipping on his shoulder just enough to expose the line of his collarbone.
My jaw tightens.
Focus.
He drops into his chair, and I continue watching. At first, I don’t understand what he’s doing, what it is I’m seeing.
And then I do.
The system responds to him by his touch alone, no manual manipulation. Data flies across the screen, files and folders opening despite his hands not moving. My eyes narrow as I lean forward, watching closer.
That’s definitely not normal.
Then I see it—electricity. It’s faint at first, then unmistakable. White-blue arcs snap across his skin like something alive.
Everything in me goes cold, then hot.
He died.
Someone fucking killed him.
My shadows lash violently across the walls before I can stop them, the room around me darkening as something brutal and furious claws its way up from my chest. My fingers curl against the edge of the desk hard enough to crack it.
Who the fuck did this to him?
Even if they brought him back, even if he’s sitting there breathing, pulse intact, they still…
On the screen, Cason leans back, electricity still dancing across his fingers.
“You’re fucking mine, Reese Morgan.”
I go still. Is that why he did this? Revenge for my revenge? I suppose I can’t fault him for it with how badly I hurt him, but, unfortunately, now I want to hurt a lot of other people right now. My vision is bathed in red, everything pulsing in sync with the rage flooding my veins.
And yet, my mind snags on one word—mine—and a slow, dangerous smile pulls at my mouth.
I pick up my phone and press a button without taking my eyes off the screen. The moment the call connects, I say, “I need you to do something for me, Baz.”
There’s a pause on the other end, background noise, movement. Then, “Well, you sound homicidal.”
“I need a message delivered.”
Sebastian’s a few hours away on an assignment to approach a possible newly Ascended.
But between the two of us, he’s the bigger brains on all our dark web networks.
He’s the one most capable of getting a message to Cason that would be the least traceable.
Considering my plan to lure him to me, to the safehouse, that’s important.
“To him?” he asks, already knowing.
“Yes.”
I give him the quickest explanation I can and tell him what to send. Fortunately, he doesn’t ask questions that could make this take longer than it needs to.
When it’s done, I hang up the phone. The message appears on Cason’s screen moments later, and he turns, looking directly into the camera. Directly at me. My shadows settle but not quite calm as something dark and possessive coils deep in my bones.
“See you soon,” he says.
My smile sharpens. “See you soon, little menace.”
And this time, I’m not letting him go.