"Goodnight, Octavian."
"Noapte buna,” I say and quickly correct myself to speak English, “Goodnight."
I stand there and watch her ascend the stairs.
As I do, trained thoughts of work enter my mind.
Tonight wasn't random. The woman in the parking garage was targeted.
And so was Keira.
Whatever these feathers mean, I'll find out. And when I do, I'll put a bullet in the skull of whoever left them.
Because next time, it won't be a message. It'll be her.
And they'll have to get through me before I let that happen.
10
KEIRA
The SUV rocks side to side as we drive. The car smells like leather and him. I've been in this seat enough times to recognize the scent.
Octavian drives in silence, as always, his eyes always scanning as we pass cars in traffic.
I stare out the window, watching Boston go by.
It's been two days since Bridget's body was found in that parking garage. I can't shake her lifeless eyes staring at nothing while black feathers decorated her chest like some sick art installation.
And that's not even including the conversation about Shadowharbor reps mentioning the word Morrígan. And now, with those words leaving her lips, she's dead.
None of it's a coincidence, and that's the unsettling part.
My phone buzzes in my lap. A text from Calli.
How you holding up? Feeling okay?
Define okay.
Fair. Call me later after your meeting?
Yeah.
I set the phone down and glance at Octavian.
He doesn't look at me, but I know he's aware of every move I make. He always is.
He hasn't left my side since it all went down. He's been annoyingly present. Always nearby. Always watching. I used to hate that.
But also, I don't know. If I'm being honest with myself, it's the only thing that makes the air feel a little less heavy.
I don't say it, of course. I'd rather die than admit I find any comfort in his presence.
But still, I notice when he's not in the room. I notice when he is.
So who knows what the fuck that means.
Anyway, I need to think of other things.
