I must be messed up, because the allure is strong. Now I have Wren’s word he won’t hold me back. I’m already capable of killing, but can I do this?
It seemed like the answer should be no. It’s wrong. But he made me promise to let him help me. The possibilities make me dizzy when I know cruel brutality is what he’s skilled at.
Shifting around on the freshly laundered sheets of our bed, I seek him out. He’s still not back. He’s made sure not to leave me for long, so it doesn’t alarm me as much as it did in the first days.
Once a day he gives me a bath, carefully washing me. He tells me stories of growing up with his sister, what Colton and Levi were like when they were younger, how Jude pulled a con on him to steal his money when they first met in high school.
He appears in the doorway, eyes roving over me as if he’s checking to make sure I haven’t hurt myself in his absence.
“Where did you go?” I ask.
“An unexpected visitor is here. I escorted her to a room where you two can talk.”
“Cryptic.” I squint. “Do I have to get up?”
He crosses the room to tip my chin up. “Only if it’s what you want.”
I mull it over for a moment. Yes, I decide. I do want to get up. As soon as I welcome the change, a jittery energy tingles beneath my skin, like it was building up all this time. He takes me through the maze of hallways to a room far away from the central main room.
The second I see Isla, an overwhelming flood of emotions drowns me. Everything I’ve been blocking out comes back in a rush and I drag in a pained gasp.
“Oh, babe,” she whispers, enveloping me in a hug when I rush her. “I’m so sorry. I’m here for you.”
“He’s…he’s…” I can’t get the words out.
“I know. I saw the news after your mom called me.”
I flinch. “She called you?”
A new guilt takes root and grows alongside the one I’ve lived with for so long. I couldn’t take her calls. Wren dealt with the voicemails she left when I panicked and threw my phone at him. Was that yesterday? The day before? Time has been weird.
“It’s okay,” Isla soothes. “I know you don’t go home to see her a lot during breaks. She was only worried about you, but she also said she was used to your independence. The police haven’t released Ethan yet, so she’s holding off on funeral arrangements until they do. I told her you would call when you were ready and she understood.”
I close my eyes and promise myself I’ll call her soon. We have a lot to talk about. I can’t keep lying to her—not about any of it.
The room finally registers and I glance around to find Wren leaning by the door, bulging arms folded over his chest. My brows flatten. The distraction is enough to pull me further out of the fog making my brain sluggish.
“Did you kidnap her?”
A faint smile twitches his lips. “No. I reserve that for you and you alone. She showed up ready to kick the door in.”
“He did blindfold me though,” Isla says.
I glare at Wren and he shrugs unrepentantly. “Nest rules.”
“How long have I been out of it?” I ask, unsure if I want to know the answer.
“About a week,” he answers.
I see it in the dark circles smudged beneath his eyes and the tired slump in his shoulders. He’s run himself ragged to be everything I needed. I bite my lip at the affection blooming in me. To know I could fall apart and he’d catch me means so much to me.
“Before you ask, we haven’t found anything new or useful.” A flash of savagery twists his handsome features. “If we did, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
I close my mouth, swallowing back the slew of questions ready to spill out. The need to be proactive itches beneath my skin, restless from disuse by ignoring the world for days.
Isla takes me by the shoulders. “What do you need? You name it and I’ll make it happen.”
Wren emits a low, possessive grumble across the room. A smile ghosts across my lips.
“Coffee.” It’s the only thing I could stomach right now.
“Of course that’s what you want.” Isla’s fond expression is tinged with sadness.
“I’d rather see you eat something more substantial,” Wren says.
“I’d really prefer coffee.” In addition to coffee, I could use some room to breathe so I can sort out my thoughts. “From that place across town—the little shop by campus? They should still be open.”
Wren’s mouth thins into a line. “Is that so.” It’s more of a statement than a question. He doesn’t want to leave me alone. I nod and he stalks across the room, offering a wad of dark fabric to Isla. “Miss Vonn?”
“Do I even want to know what that’s for?”
Isla winks. “Coffee and those little bistro sandwiches you like. Coming right up! We’ll be back in twenty.”
“I’ll be back. You’ll be dropped off at the senator’s estate,” Wren corrects. Isla pouts. Rolling his eyes, he concedes another inch. “You can come here tomorrow.”
“Look at you, making more friends,” I say.
He rumbles his response against my lips, stealing a swift kiss. “Don’t push yourself too hard while I’m gone. I mean it. I will find out if you don’t listen.”
“I won’t.” Claiming one more kiss, I whisper, “Thank you.”
I don’t say it, but I mean it to encompass everything. He presses his forehead into mine until Isla clears her throat.
“Ya girl is still blindfolded here. Not a cute look. I’ll only stand it for so long because I love Rowan.”
Wren marches her from the room, stirring a momentary worry, but I trust he’s not going to hurt her. I follow into the main room. After days mostly trapped in the hazy confines of my mind, it feels like a long time since I was last in this room. A pang hits me in the chest. The last time was right before…
Shoving back the thought, I hover behind Colton, watching him work. He glances back and grins, lifting a closed hand over his orange and black chair for a fist bump I return.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He points to one of the screens on the wall. “Watch the bets and let me know if Queen_Q calls, would you? Today is the day I beat her, I feel it.”
I scan the online poker match. “What are you doing?”
“Multitasking like a pro, babe.” He types at lightning speed on his wireless keyboard, head swiveling from one screen to the next. “The rendering is almost complete, but I have to program the app so we can do a live run with it. Also have my minions helping me scrub through surveillance footage to see what we pick up.”
One of the screens further down catches my eye. It’s a livestream of local news on low volume.
The reporter stands by the gate to the shipyard and the scroller beneath reads BODY DISCOVERED AT THORNE POINT SHIPPING DOCKS.
I flick my gaze to Colton. He hasn’t noticed, too absorbed in the computer code he’s frowning at. Swallowing, I listen to the report.
“The tragic story of Ethan Hannigan, a twenty-six year old Thorne Point resident, draws to an end today when police closed the case.”
I can’t stop the harsh recoil at those words. To the reporter, it’s another story, another day, but to me it’s my brother’s life. If his case is closed, do the police know something Wren doesn’t?
“His body was discovered last week by a homeless gentleman who came forward when asked by police to cooperate with their investigation.”
Photos of two police officers display on the screen and I bite down on my tongue to smother my sharp inhale. Those are the cops who wouldn’t take my missing persons report no matter how many times I tried. Everything burns—my eyes, my throat, my whole damn body.
A memory of a different news report surfaces, mixing with the one on the screen, recounting the tragic story of the car accident I caused. Reliving my past mistakes while grieving Ethan bowls me over with a sense of having no control.
“The medical examiner ruled the death a suicide by over
dose when the autopsy revealed a deadly level of a synthetic opioid in Mr. Hannigan’s system. With that, the police have been able to close the case. Our thoughts and prayers go out to Mr. Hannigan’s family. Back over to you for the weather, Terry.”
I’m shaking as the report ends and the news moves on. Back over to you. Just like that.
The murderous ember that flickered to life in the tumultuous last few days sparks with new energy, growing into an inferno that won’t be stopped. It swallows me, fueled by so much fury and an inescapable need to do something.
They’re lying. Ethan never did hard drugs. He would never kill himself.
They took him. Tormented him for god knows how long. Killed him. And now they’re covering up his murder with this lie.
Fists curled into tight balls, I give in to the anger consuming me.
It’s cold at the shipyard tonight. The wind nips at my cheeks with a stinging chill that leaves my skin raw. I grit my teeth against the rising surge of rage. Unable to wait for anyone to help, I broke my promise to Wren. He’s going to be furious when he finds out after he made me agree not to go alone.
But I needed to act. I need to get revenge for my brother.
The ire of Wren and his Crows is something I’ll need to face later. If I make it out of this.
I gave myself enough time to change into dark clothes and search the desk, taking Wren’s silver lighter and a gun before I hopped in my car and sped away from the Crow’s Nest. After sneaking into the shipyard, a plan formed on the fly through the haze shutting everything else out.
It’s insane. Dangerous enough to get people killed. Exactly what I’m going for with my intent to destroy everything by burning it to the fucking ground.
The onsite gas station has medium size propane tanks lined up. A viral video I saw once popped into my head when I spot them. When surrounded in flames, pressure builds up enough to cause them to explode.
Perfect.
I steal them one by one, keeping to the shadows as I place a few around the perimeter of the warehouse, hidden amongst the crates. The last thing I take from the gas station is a canister of gas to spill over anything flammable before I light this bitch up.
Crouched in the exact spot as the night I came to investigate the SynCom warehouse, I scan the labels on the crates. From my search before, I know these assholes were connected to a drug bust. The rat they spoke of that night, information destroyed—they were talking about Ethan. They did this to him and I’m making them pay.
They’re here, strolling around, smoking cigarettes and laughing. They have no idea what I’m about to do. Each bark makes me seethe. My brother won’t ever laugh again.
The rest of the shipyard is empty for the night, but these men keep a close eye on their section. They must store their drugs here before shipping it out to poison the world for their profit.
These are bad people who deserve this.
I hate them with every fibre of my being.
Like a vengeful angel of death, I tuck my heart away and set my jaw. I avoid the men on guard as I spill gasoline, creating a death trap for when I ignite the lighter. It’s lucky the wind is coming off the ocean tonight, masking the strong scent.
I start the fire at the back of the warehouse. Kneeling cautiously, I hold the flame close and gasp as the fumes flare up. It spreads faster than I expect. I scuffle back, hypnotized by the hungry fire licking anything in its path. Within mere minutes it eats through the gasoline-soaked crates and wreaks destruction anywhere it touches.
I imagine the fire is me, burning everything important.
For Ethan.
A wicked satisfaction fills me watching the flames engulfing the warehouse. Shouts of alarm ring out in the night. The heat warms my raw cheeks.
I’ve never danced with my darkness as much as I do in this moment. Instead of running away from it, I embrace it.
A loud bang startles me, followed by more shouting.
“There!” someone yells in a thick, angry accent.
Another bang buzzes by, closer this time, lodging into a wooden crate not far from my head. Every hair on my body stands on end and fear floods my system.
Gunshots.
That didn’t factor into the plan. Heart racing, I scramble for cover as another shot rings out overhead.
“Fuck! This is bad.”
The plan blowing up in my face level bad.
An explosion follows the next shot and yelled curses have me poking my head up. I watch in horror as two propane tanks shoot sky high in the opposite direction I meant them to go. Instead of crashing into the warehouse windows, one takes out one of the shooters with a violent blow to the head that turns my stomach. The other crashes into the nearby crates, blocking my exit with towering flames that engulf the narrow path I was supposed to leave through.
The warehouse is surrounded by fire…and so am I.
Thirty-Four
Rowan
This was a terrible idea. Clarity hits me like shattering glass, ripping me from the hold of insanity. Frantic and in survival mode, I search for a way out. The other shooter is distracted by his buddy’s death, but with a snarl he starts firing in the direction he last saw me.
“Shit!” I duck and crawl as fast as I can.
When I find another tall crate, I stand, leaning heavily against it while my heaving gasps end in coughs on the acrid smoke rising from the blaze. I take out the gun I brought, but I can’t see where the guy went when I aim.
A shot comes from a different direction and I veer away on instinct, only to duck with a scream when another propane tank explodes in my path. This one does its job, taking out the window and a good chunk of the metal siding to leave a gaping hole. Pulse pounding, I force my feet to move, squeezing the trigger to return fire. Someone bellows in pain, but more bullets keep coming my way. The men are converging on me.
As I weave through the crates and navigate the dangerous fire, I know I fucked up big time. Wren made me promise for a reason. I should have waited for him instead of doing what I always do—isolate myself so no one sees me struggling. He wasn’t stopping me, only demanding that I let him help.
My goddamn independence got the best of me and giving the urge power over me might cost me my life.
Reckless, Rowan. Completely fucking reckless and it might get you killed.
In my head it sounds like Wren.
Is that what I wanted by chasing impulsiveness to the point of destruction?
No. I’m not dying. I don’t want to leave Wren like this.
I pull up short, blocked by more fire. Panic pricks at my awareness, mixing with the out of control adrenaline.
“Fucking get that little bitch!”
I stay low, squeezing through crates that have yet to catch fire. There are more voices than the first two who noticed me. They’re pissed and out for blood. A stack of flaming empty crates crashes over me when it can’t stand on its own anymore. I narrowly escape, but cry out as a burning piece of wood catches my shoulder.
“There she is!”
Heavy footsteps head in my direction and I run, forced to leave the gun I dropped. They chase me, giving me no choice but to do another stupid thing. It’s my only option. Every other route is blocked by fire or people who want to kill me for what I’ve done.
Heart in my throat, I run into the burning warehouse.
It’s not as loud inside, the flames busy eating through the wood crates awaiting shipment and sorting outside. Black smoke billows out through the broken windows and coats the top of the rafters. I duck low as I move, desperate for a clean breath of air.
Someone is screaming in pain and calling for help. I don’t answer his pleas.
There are two other exits to this place. I saw them when I set the trap. Fuck, I didn’t think I’d have to use them to get out of this mess myself.
It was cold out there, but inside it’s sweltering, both from the flames surrounding me and the radiating heat from my shoulder. I think I was burned. Grimacing,
I hurry for the first door.
“Ah, fuck!” I yank my hand back from the handle, shaking it out from the pain of how hot it was.
Glaring at the door, I don’t waste time backing away over broken glass to try the other way. Outside it seems like they’ve given up on finding me. Maybe they believe chasing me in here was enough. Unless they’re focused on putting out the fire to save their product before coming to gun me down.
The man who was crying before has stopped. My stomach lurches, but I push myself to keep moving.
“Damn it.”
Dread fills me as I reach the other wall past an office. The exit is blocked by a tower of crates. Smoke seeps in through the cracks between them. I’m not getting out that way either.
Spinning around, I keep a feeble grasp on myself before hysteria condemns me to death. Flames lick up the interior of the metal siding from the window the propane tank exploded through. I don’t have long to figure something out.
I’ll make a run for it. It’s the only choice I have.
Rapid gunfire sounds again from the way I came in to escape. It halts me in my tracks. Tears sting my eyes and a coughing fit chokes me, sending me to my knees.
It’s no fucking use. I’m trapped in here. I’m going to die because of my selfish, vengeful brashness. I’ve always prided myself on not being helpless, but this is my own fault. If I’d listened to Wren, this wouldn’t be happening.
Bitter ash coats my throat, but I don’t know if it’s the real deal or from the fear and regret cloying at me.
A terrified sob tears free when something breaks down in the rafters holding up the roof.
I don’t want to die. Not like this.
Regrets fly through my head one after another, each one more heartbreaking. I wish I’d told Mom everything, wish I hadn’t ignored her the last few months. Sniffling, I’m unable to withhold a pained whimper as I picture hugging her, Ethan, Isla, every one of the Crows—
Wren.
“I’m sorry.”
The ache in my chest steals what little breath I have left. I’ll never see him again. I want to keep fighting to get back to him. He’s my rock, my wicked protector. For him, I need to try. I can’t give up yet. I need him.
Crowned Crows of Thorne Point: A Dark New Adult Romantic Suspense Page 27
