I wanted vengeance.
A loud bang vibrates the ceiling above my head followed by loud yelling and grunts. Wren’s friend was awake.
“Fuck,” Ryker hisses, “how is she awake!? The doc gave her enough sedative to knock out a horse.”
I didn’t have the patience to deal with Aurora. I gave that shit to Ryker, if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t give a fuck about her safety or health, I would have shoved her into the nearest hospital –maybe– and left it at that.
But I’d already determined that Wren was my weakness and I needed something to help bring Wren back when her mind can’t handle the demons anymore.
I knew she was mine, she had admitted it but there is only so much I would be able to do. I may be a monster, evil, but my little bird was my tether and I would do anything for her.
Let it be said, even the devil can be tamed.
Ryker doesn’t bother with a glass, he simply lifts the bottle from the table and swigs directly from it before shoving back from his chair and stomping from the room.
The call from my father rings in my head.
Five, five, five, south street.
A safe house.
Taking Wren there would be the safer option, but I wouldn’t be able to stay. Not when the battle continues to rage on the streets. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to part with her now that I had her back. I throw the rest of my whiskey back and head back to the room. My men part to let me inside.
The room is shrouded in darkness, a small amount of silver light drifting in through the crack in the curtain but I see her shape writhing on the bed. Silently screaming as her dreams torture her in her sleep. So very broken.
Closing my eyes I try to settle the boiling rage before I cross the room and tug her into my lap, cradling her and restraining her to my chest to stop the thrashing. I can see speckles of blood seeping through the white bandages on her abdomen and her hair is slick with sweat but for whatever reason, be it pure insanity or not, she settles against me, the nightmares chased away by my presence.
Perhaps she was more broken than I thought.
Wren still sleeps when light streams in through the window the following morning. I worry about leaving her. I stare down at her face, tracing the lines of her nose, her cheeks, her perfectly shaped mouth with my eyes, unable to get enough.
Every emotion inside me feels too big, too important and I’ve no idea how to deal with or control them. I had always been taught that these feelings would be my destruction and now, as I stare at her, as everything inside me knots up so tightly I worry it’ll snap, I understand why. This was nothing but obsession. I amobsessedwith her. What the fuck do I do with that?
Gently, I pry her arm from my body and slip to the edge of the bed, running a hand down my face. Wren whimpers behind me but ultimately stays asleep as I drag my ass to the bathroom for a shower.
I have to harness this. Use it to my advantage. With how strongly I feel for my little bird it could bring some serious consequences, like seeing Valentine crucified on the tallest building of this city. He cannot hide for long, rats like him never go far and all I need to do is wait patiently for him to resurface.
I can do that.
I can wait.
Afterall, the sweetest meal comes to those who wait.