Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Ijust about manage to keep stride with him as we walk, Stryx remaining limp in his arms and the thought slowly dawning on me that he’s walking without direction, like he knows exactly where he’s going.
Of course he knows where he’s going. If he’s been leaving those notes, he knows exactly where we live.
I watch him carefully with narrowed eyes, though every time I sneak a glance at him, I catch his eyes whipping away from me.
“You’re staring,” he grinds out.
“And you’re not?”
“Octavia–”
“We can’t keep doing this,” I hiss, my impatience getting the better of me.
He raises his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware this had become an us thing.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I seethe, my hands curling into fists at my side. “Why do you keep showing up everywhere I go?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Maybe I’m following you,” he says with a shrug.
“Why?”
“Why indeed.”
I huff loudly, pinching the bridge of my nose, my patience hanging dangerously on a precipice. “What do you want from me, Riven? I feel like I’m going around in circles here.”
“Good, I’d hate to make it easy for you.”
Maybe this lock is going to be harder to break than I thought. Then again, I could break his face instead. At least that would be somewhat satisfying.
“You know, I think you might be the most irritating person I've ever met,” I mutter, and he chuckles darkly.
“Yet here you are, hanging on my every word.”
I take a deep breath and count to ten, trying to calm my anger before I do something I regret. Stryx stirs faintly against his chest, and I realise a mortal glamour has fallen over her again.
Is Riven doing that?
I fall silent as I trudge beside him, my breath still uneven from the chaos of the Archives, watching every shift of his expression for a clue.
The streets are quieter than usual at this hour, the dappled light from the setting sun slanting between the narrow buildings, glinting off the polished brass buttons on Riven’s cloak, catching in the sharp edge of his profile.
My mind refuses to still.
If he’s truly not the murderer we seek, then why is he always here? The notes, the timing, the way he appeared outside the Archives today…it all feels too orchestrated. And yet, why would a killer save the lives of the people hunting him? Why risk exposure just to pull us out of danger?
Maybe the notes aren’t the threats I thought them to be.
My thoughts tangle like threads I can’t unpick. Perhaps he’s trying to tell me something he can’t say aloud, bound by oath or magic. It would explain the riddles, the way his eyes seem to constantly glint with meaning he never voices.
But then there’s Cyril. The image of my old friend’s body, his throat slit, appears behind my eyes, bile rising in my throat. Riven killed him. He hasn’t denied it. And Xavier… Xavier’s sister is dying because of him. They both are.
I quicken my pace, trying to keep up with him despite the constant pain in my hips, words burning in my throat.
“You could at least tell me why you’re helping me,” I mutter quietly, my tone sharp.
Riven continues to stare ahead. “Helping you serves my own interests,” he replies. “Don’t mistake it for charity.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’ll get, for now.”
Frustration prickles at my skin. The urge to confront him and demand the truth about the notes swells in my chest, but my courage flickers like a dying flame. His silence, his calm, it unnerves me more than any threat can.
We turn down our street, the fading sunlight washing over the crumbling facade of our apartment building. Riven pauses at the foot of the stairs and shifts Stryx carefully in his arms. I step ahead to open the door, the hinges creaking in the quiet.
I hesitate on the threshold, debating whether it’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever had allowing this man into my home, but a sudden sharp pain shoots through my hip, reminding me I don’t exactly have a choice.
Riven smirks at my obvious indecision, but to my surprise, he waits patiently without comment.
Reluctantly I give in, opening the door wider, and he brushes past me into the apartment, laying Stryx gently on the couch, the shadows of the dying fire clawing up his figure.
He retreats a step from her, returning his attention to me where I still stand transfixed on the threshold. Slowly, he prowls towards me, his face unreadable in the harsh shadows. He pauses mere inches away, and the question I’ve been roiling over finally leaves me in a single word.
“Corvus?”
The word escapes me on a breath, barely audible, but his eyes meet mine and something flickers there; surprise, perhaps even a trace of amusement, before he leans in close to my ear.
“Good girl,” he growls, a half smile pulling at his lips as he draws back.
Then he marches out.
I stand frozen in the doorway in the flickering half-light, my pulse racing, reeling from everything that’s happened. Did he just confirm my suspicions, or is he playing yet another game with me? Once again my questions remain unanswered, my doubt deeper than ever.
I stride over to Stryx to confirm she’s okay, her breathing normal, her features relaxed in sleep. Then I pull a blanket over her carefully, and before I can change my mind, I charge back out the door.
I’m done playing nice. That infuriating man may not want to talk, but I’m going to make him.
The sun has barely dipped below the rooftops as I exit back onto the street, Riven disappearing into the maze of Dhakira’s narrow alleys up ahead.
I slam the apartment door behind me and stagger after him as fast as I can.
I just about manage to keep him in my sights through the winding streets, but the evening darkness starts settling in, making it more difficult by the minute.
I follow anyway, my cloak snapping in the chilled wind as I pull my hood further over my face, shadows stretching long and hungry as the last light bleeds out of the sky.
I keep my distance, my heart drumming in my ears as I trail him through the twisting backstreets, past shuttered shops and crumbling stone walls slick with the evening mist. Every now and then I catch a flash of movement—a glint of green eyes, the edge of his coat—but each time I round a corner, he’s gone.
The sound of his boots echoing ahead of me seems to vanish altogether, swallowed by the dark.
“Damn it,” I mutter, quickening my pace.
The alley grows narrower, darker, the air colder. The lanterns here are dead, their glass cracked, fuel long burned out. I slow, squinting into the dark, my heart rate increasing rapidly as my Shadow watches me in the gloom.
“Riven?”
No answer.
Something darts in the edge of my vision, too quick to name. I spin, my hand going to the dagger at my belt, but before I can draw it, a shadow detaches itself from the wall and surges toward me.
In an instant, my back hits the cold brick wall, hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.
Riven’s hand catches my wrist and pins it above my head, his other hand clutched round my throat, his body pressing tight against mine.
The faint glow of the lights from the street behind us carves sharp planes across his face, his jaw tense, eyes burning with a feral kind of intensity.
“You’re not as subtle as you think you are, Miss Wren.” His voice is low and dangerous, half amusement, half warning.
I glare up at him, trying to keep my voice steady. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You should have left it at that.”
“You’re hiding something.”
He leans in closer, and I try to ignore the feeling of his body pressed against mine, but his warm breath against my ear makes it almost impossible.
“Of course I am,” he murmurs.
My pulse races, a mix of fear and fury, and something…else. “You think you can just use people like pawns in your little games? Keeping secrets while others die?”
His grip on my wrist tightens, his fingers flexing at my throat. “I’m the only reason you’re still breathing, Octavia,” he says quietly, eyes gleaming like a cat’s in the dark. “Don’t mistake my restraint for patience.”
I stare up at him, defiant despite the tremor in my voice. “Oh, I haven’t. I know exactly what you are.”
“And what would that be?” he whispers with a tilt of his head.
“You are a bad person, a psychopath,” I hiss at him.
“Why?”
“Because you’ve done awful things, obviously.”
“Yes, I have,” he agrees. “But you never asked me why.”
I hesitate, tempted to indulge him, but I refuse to give in to this game he’s playing. I’ve had enough.
“I don’t have time for your excuses. I won’t bow to them.”
He observes me intensely, a slight smirk dancing in the corner of his mouth as his hand squeezes a little tighter around my throat.
“Yes, you’re not usually one for submitting, are you?”
I remain silent, refusing to endorse his rambling.
“I’ve seen your fire. Seen the way Blackwood tries to protect you, control you, all the while you fight back, every time. Sometimes I wonder, a woman with such intellect as yours…you may appear small and broken to everyone else, but I also see you for what you truly are, Miss Wren.”
“Whats that?” I whisper, unable to help myself.
He leans in close, his stubble grazing against my ear, his warm breath caressing me in the most sinful way.
“A dangerous creature,” he breathes, his deep voice vibrating against my ear and making me squirm involuntarily. I stare back at him defiantly, refusing to show him how much his proximity is affecting me, but his smirk tells me my attempts are futile.
“You love this, don’t you?” he says with a knowing smile. “You hide it well, but I can see it in your eyes. All the mystery, the puzzles, you crave it.”
“You’re wrong,” I insist, though I’m about as convinced of my words as he seems to be.
He leans in close again, our noses almost touching, and a shiver rolls down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold. “Tell me, Detective, did you enjoy my little notes?”
I scoff, a sarcastic smile spreading across my face. “Trying to use them to flirt with me, are you?”
“Why? Is it working?”
My smile drops and I swallow thickly.
“Yeah, I thought so,” he smirks.
“Get. Off. Me,” I hiss through my teeth, and he chews his lip before finally leaning back a little, loosening his hold on me slightly.
“You sure? For a minute, it looked like you were enjoying yourself.”
Before I can argue back something flashes in his eyes and his attention shoots to the wall behind me.
“Why do you keep doing that?” I snap, the tension between us shattering.
“What?” he frowns, his gaze returning to mine.
“Looking over my shoulder all the time. That must be the tenth time I’ve seen you do it.”
My Shadow presses in, his presence overwhelming my senses.
He knows.
The voice echoes inside my head and my breath catches.
No he doesn’t, don’t be ridiculous, I think back at him, but amusement that’s not my own floods my senses.
You know exactly what he’s looking at.
I start picking at my nails as anxiety tiptoes its way up my spine and I grit my teeth hard, trying to school my features into neutrality as I silently argue with the damn thing.
You’re just a figment of my imagination, there’s no way he can–
“Who are you talking to, Miss Wren?”
My blood turns to ice in my veins, and my heart skips a beat. Riven is watching me intently with a slight frown, like he can hear every word going on in my head.
Impossible.
I told you…
How? Surely he can’t read minds, no mortal can.
The corner of his lip curls slightly in a half smirk as he tilts his head, staring at me with those piercing eyes. “You’re not alone, are you? Who can you see, Octavia?”
“No one, you’re being ridiculous,” I scoff, trying my best to sound like my heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to burst out of my chest.
“You’re lying, again.”
I feign innocence, shrugging as nonchalantly as I can. His expression softens when I refuse to answer, my pulse hammering as he regards me in that intense way of his.
“I’m not your enemy, Miss Wren.”
“How could you not be after everything you’ve done?” I snap. “I know what you did to Xavier–”
“That weasel had it coming, believe me,” he growls.
“How could he possibly–”
“You’re the smart one, you figure it out,” he cuts in. “But you’re running out of time. We all are.”
“What do you mean ‘we all are’?” I breathe, the warning in his eyes making my heart lurch.
He huffs a laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Do not mistake the absence of great battles and armies as peace, Miss Wren. War is brewing. The underbelly of this cesspool of a city is churning viciously, and currently, you are powerless to stop it. A war is coming, and I intend to see it put to an end.” He leans in close, his eyes narrowing into a stare I can’t escape.
“And Gods help me, I will cut down anyone who stands in my way. So you better figure this out quickly, Detective. At the end, you’ll either be with me or against me, and I don’t like your odds if it’s the latter. ”
He steps back and releases my throat, making me stumble forward as his hand drops away. When I look up again, he’s already taken a step back into the shadows.
“Go home,” he says, voice ice cold now. “Whoever attacked you in the Archives won’t be the only one hunting you now.”
And then, like smoke in the night, he’s gone.
The alley is silent once more, save for the echo of my own ragged breathing.