Page 29 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

My stomach roiled and I placed a hand over it.

Turning on my heel, I fled. Straight into Peter’s apartment. His space was swarming with investigators. It wasn’t in shambles like mine. No one seemed to notice me as I headed for the door to Peter’s bedroom.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Warm hands wrapped around my stomach, pulling me against a firm body. “Not a good idea, sugar. You don’t want to see that.”

Bastian’s hands splayed over me, tightening. I held still a moment, let the feel of him ground me. Exhaling, my shoulders fell. “I want to see it, Bastian. I need to. Peter… He was my neighbor. If this is…if this is my fault⁠—”

“Eleanor! None of this is your fault. Did you ask someone to kill Peter?”

“What?! No!”

“Then it isn’t your fault. Hear me?” He lowered his head until his lips brushed my ear, sending shivers over my skin. “If I hear shit like that out of your mouth again, we’re going to have words, understand?”

I swallowed but nodded, then said, “Please, let me go.”

He sighed, then released me.

I stepped forward into the chaos. Peter’s body was on the floor of his bedroom, limbs splayed. There was blood seeping into the carpet. His night shirt was long, but it didn’t fully cover his legs.

My breaths came faster with each second.

A large hand came around my stomach, splaying wide as Bastian crowded in behind me. “Seen enough?” he bit out. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I didn’t answer. My eyes were still fixed on Peter’s body, unblinking. There was a bullet hole in his forehead. But it was the darkened markings on the floor and one across his torso paired with the cut of a knife, that had me whispering, “Scorch marks.”

“I see that. Why do you think WBI was called in?”

A tremor passed through me. Bastian’s hand tightened on my stomach. “Come on, sugar. Out of here. You’ve seen enough.”

He pulled me away and I let him, trying to get Peter’s face out of my mind, his open mouth, glassy eyes, wide with fear. What struck me as weird, though, were the scorch marks, both on the floor and his body. The one on his body was paired with a knife, like it had been on fire when it cut him.

I chewed on my bottom lip as Bastian led me from the apartment. At some point, his hand had twined with mine. It was a testament to how rattled I felt that I hadn’t even reacted.

“You’re not staying here,” he growled, turning me to face him, dropping my hand to take my shoulders. “For obvious reasons,”

“I… There are a few friends I can call.”

“Nope. Not happening.” His grip tightened on my shoulders. “Get some clothes, whatever you need for the foreseeable future.” I tried to speak, but nothing came out. “I’m taking you home, sugar. With me. End of discussion.”

11

Eleanor gaped at Bastian. “With… With you?”

“You heard me. Hurry up.”

She opened her mouth⁠—

“Look, sugar, I don’t want you here longer than necessary. You’ve seen enough.”

Her expression morphed into a glare, but he didn’t back down. In fact, he welcomed that sass. Better that than the alternative, given what happened to her apartment and neighbor.

“I can stay with friends.”

“No.” He ran a hand over the shaved side of his scalp. Fucking hell. What the fuck was wrong with him? This was not how things were supposed to happen.

He was supposed to put more space between them. Not less. But that was before this.

He didn’t trust anyone with her safety. Not when someone clearly wanted to harm her. She’d said his name earlier. Luke. The piece of shit who’d hurt her.