Chapter 21
LEX
Cutting people apart used to mean something to me. At least I think it did. It was at least a means to an end, or maybe a goal I felt inclined toward. Now, it’s nothing but a painful waste of time when I could be looking for her. Plus, guts stink.
My gloved hands dig through slick organs, looking for a cause of death that doesn’t matter. This specialty doesn’t matter; the extra work I’m trying to accomplish doesn’t matter. I pull out the liver and weigh it.
“Whatever a liver weighs,” I call to Cillian, who makes a note but says nothing. A time when she stood beside me and asked me clever questions cuts me apart as surely as I cut this cadaver. Nothing matters since Sable left.
And my mentor is a liar.
I don’t know why. I don’t know how, but he knows more than he’s let on.
So far, he isn’t cracking. We’ve been back at Bellthorn for three days, early for the semester, but deadlines are looming over us outside of the usual coursework.
I hadn’t planned for a tense days-long standoff between the two of us, but I also didn’t expect him to come back.
“Is something wrong?” he asks. His innocent tone reeks of guilt with Sable missing.
“It’s been a month since anyone has seen her,” I say. “Any ideas where she might be?”
“Nothing has changed since the last time you asked me.” Cillian’s story has been the same this entire time, perhaps too perfectly.
“It just doesn’t make sense for her to ask to go to the dorms.”
“Maybe she was meeting a friend.” His pen scratches across the paper.
“She didn’t have any friends.” There wasn’t a soul at Bellthorn actually looking out for her, not even me. My miserable heart sinks.
“Soren was the last to see her. Not me. So, even if I did know why she wanted to go over there, I’m not the last person who was with her.”
The reminder is a gut punch, and unfortunately, completely true. I don’t know what Cillian was up to or why, but Soren is the reason she’s gone.
“Why did he let her leave?” I’m not actually asking Cillian. I’m just so overwhelmed I can’t help but speak out loud.
“He was screwing around on her, and she found out.” He shrugs. “Most cheaters are cowards.”
“Cheaters are cowards.” I hate to agree with him when I can’t trust him, but I do.
I turn away from the body, ripping off the gloves and dropping them in the trash.
My exhaustion is suddenly bone-deep. I can’t stand to be around him anymore when I think he’s enjoying this game, and I’m no closer to finding her.
At the very least, I think he enjoys the fact that the founding families are without a toy to play with.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“You can take care of this,” I say instead of answering.
“Yes, but I’m not supposed to. You are.” He tips up his chin, challenging me with his blue eyes. He’s maintained his innocence, but his attitude says otherwise. He’s always held some resentment toward me, but he’s never openly defied me the way he has in the past few days.
“Report me,” I say, but it doesn’t have the playful tone it would have before. It’s a threat.
“Whenever you actually find out what happened to Sable, you’re going to owe me a huge apology, Morwen.”
Instead of telling him to fuck himself like I’m inclined to, I head into the hall, slamming the door behind me.
My hands start to shake uncontrollably, and I curse myself and how far from okay I am without her.
Sable. Sable. Sable. I silently beg for her return.
Mocking religious men is a pastime of mine, and prayers have always seemed ridiculous, but I can’t help my weakness now.
I don’t care if I’m begging an empty universe. That’s how badly I need her.
If you bring her back to me, I’ll devote my life to helping others.
My phone vibrates, lighting the screen with a notification. I hold my breath before I look at it, not able to afford the disappointment of hope. When I finally face it, the message still glows.
Soren: We have Sable. Bring your medical shit. She’s hurt.
The shock and anger that he’s texting me only lasts a moment as the words process.
“No shit,” I say as I look around, feeling like the universe suddenly just got a whole lot more mysterious.
The emotions come one after another, too intense to fully process.
Joy, fear, shock. Why the hell is she with Soren right now, and how did he, of all people, find her?
Rage courses through me as I think back to the day a month ago when I found out why Sable left us.
Soren had just promised her all kinds of things before running off to fuck Arabella again.
Goose bumps rise on my skin as I stare at the text. My head tingles, and I only realize then that I’ve stopped breathing. She’s hurt, and nothing else matters. What the hell happened to her that she’s hurt?
Me: If she needs immediate attention, take her to the ER.
Soren: Get us a room in the La Chalet hotel near campus.
Me: Are you dense? If she needs help now, get it for her!
Soren: Are you? Get us a room and bring your stuff.
My anger toward him is so potent that it nearly boils over.
She was gone because of him. That means she’s hurt because of him.
Soren has a lot of nerve to give me an attitude after everything he’s cost us.
Soren doesn’t matter, though. What matters is Sable.
I leave the tower, not giving a shit how I look, as I run all the way to the parking garage.
Once I climb inside the car, I call the hotel.
The mention of my name is enough to get us the penthouse suite.
There are several bedrooms available, which should give us space to attend to Sable’s needs and provide her with privacy if she wishes.
The hotel isn’t far, only about ten miles, but traffic is surprisingly heavy.
Weaving through several tight spaces, I earn myself a collection of middle fingers.
More than worth it when I pull up in front of the hotel a few minutes later, before Soren and Sable.
The valet stand sits inside a covered archway that prevents the flash of paparazzi cameras.
The car is entirely hidden from the road as I pull inside.
Stepping out of the car, I look around more thoroughly. Everything is designed with discretion in mind. This was a smart choice. Sable Briarwick is interesting enough to draw attention, but this hotel hosts celebrities and billionaires when they don’t want to be found. She should be fine here.
The valet takes my keys with a smile and a promise to treat it well.
It is a fun car. The doorman stands in front of the already open door and wishes me a good evening as I walk inside.
The space is beautiful, designed in a warm, wood-and-gold palette, a timeless sort of wealth rather than a chic one, but I can’t enjoy any of it, knowing that Sable is coming here, hurt.
Expensive-looking women who remind me of my mother and her friends stand in a group near the front desk and block my path.
My irritation and impatience are so thick that I nearly find myself barking at them as I ask them to excuse me.
“Checking in,” I say to the woman behind the desk when I finally make it up to her. The card hits the counter in front of her, and she stares at it but doesn’t pick it up.
“Just a moment,” she says with forced politeness, finishing whatever she’s working on behind her computer.
I tap my foot as I watch the door. I want this done and ready for her before she gets here, but I don’t want to wait another second either.
She finally picks it up and reads the name on the card.
Her eyes flash nervously. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Morwen. I shouldn’t have kept you waiting.”
I say nothing, trying to hide the fact that I’m barely human. Her fingers fly across the screen. Finally, she hands me two key cards. I take them from her and put my card back in my wallet.
“I have a few more people on the way. I’ll need them brought up discreetly and immediately.” I’m not trying to be a dick, but I think my face says something I’m not meaning to.
She blushes and looks down to avoid my gaze. “Of course. No problem, sir.”
“Thank you,” I say, before turning my back on her and heading to the elevators. The key card is required to get inside, then I tap it once more to access the private floor of our suite.
Me: The staff are waiting to bring you guys up.
Soren: Great.
That’s all he has to say?
When the door finally closes behind me, nervous anxiety rolls off me like steam.
Numerous scenarios play out in my head, and none of them are good.
I try to comfort myself with the fact that they rejected the emergency room.
I like to think that Soren is smart enough to figure out whether her life is in immediate danger.
I’m not so sure about giving him that much credit, though.
He’s the reason Sable left to begin with.
I don’t understand exactly how I got here.
A few months ago, I was excited for another year of toying with the Offering.
Even after meeting Sable, I humiliated her for fun, so numbed by life it was the only way for me to get off.
Now look at me, desperate for her to return to me safely.
I glance down at my trembling palms, and I curse, hoping I can get myself together before she’s here. She needs me.
The knob twists, and everything stops. My time is suddenly up.