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The red flowers of my tattoo blend in with the blood on my arm, and a shiver runs down my spine as I stare at the ink. I remember thinking once how much the roses looked like pools of blood, and now it’s impossible to get that thought out of my head.
With a sudden vicious movement, I yank my crusted shirt over my head and throw it into a corner of the bathroom. I unhook my bra and hurl it after my top, then shove my pants down as I kick off my shoes. I’m usually pretty good at doing shit like this one-handed, but my muscles feel sluggish and uncoordinated, and I have to grab the sink counter to steady myself when I overbalance and almost fall over.
When my clothes are finally all in a pile in the corner, I turn on the water and step under the spray. It’s cold at first, and I hiss out a breath as the cool droplets cascade over my skin. The painkiller is starting to kick in, but I’m careful to avoid the large knot on the side of my head as I run my hand slowly through my dark hair, letting the gradually warming water break up the clumps of clotted blood.
I don’t look down as I scrub my hair and then my body, not wanting to see the pink-tinged water as it swirls down the drain. The coppery scent gets worse before it gets better, hanging in the steamy air until I massage shampoo into my hair twice.
When I step out of the shower and glance at myself in the steam-fogged mirror again, I look slightly more human—but still half-zombie. My fingertips ghost over the three scars on my chest before moving up to brush across a bruise on my collarbone. Now that all the blood that wasn’t mine is washed off, I can see the bruises and scrapes on my own body better. None of them are bad, nothing that won’t heal, but they dot my skin at regular intervals, each one a reminder of everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours.
“Hey, Rose? You decent?” Theo’s muffled voice comes through the door, and I wonder if he’s been waiting to hear the shower turn off. “I’ve got some clothes for you.”
“Thanks.”
Tearing my gaze away from the mirror and the girl with pale skin, dark hair, and haunted blue eyes, I grab a towel from the rack and wrap it around myself.
Steam billows out of the bathroom when I open the door, making me wonder for a second how long I was in the shower. Time doesn’t seem to mean much right now; it could’ve been hours or minutes, and I wouldn’t know the difference.
Theo’s gaze travels down my body quickly as if he’s assessing me for damage. It looks like he’s showered too, changing out of his blood-stained clothes into fresh ones. Concern shines in his blue-green eyes, but when he meets my gaze, he offers a small smile and hands over some pajamas I recognize as ones I left at Marcus’s place.
I take them, my heart skipping unevenly in my chest. “Ryland’s back? Did he find—”
“No.” Theo’s smile slips. “The place was empty. No sign that Marcus has been there.”
Goddammit.
I expected that answer, but it breaks my heart anyway.
“Fuck.” My fingers tighten around the clothes, twisting and bunching the fabric. “What else can we do then? Can we—”
“You can sleep,” Theo interrupts gently. “Doctor Adelman said you need to take it easy, and Marcus will kill us if we let you push yourself too hard and end up making things worse. Ry and I talked after he got back. We’re expanding our search for security footage to a wider perimeter to see if we can pick anything up. A car. A license plate. A face. Anything.”
It still doesn’t seem like enough. But they’re already doing more than I could, and despite the anxious energy pouring through me, my exhaustion is winning.
“Okay,” I murmur. “But tomorrow, I want to help.”
Theo nods, and I step back and close the door. I towel dry my hair and then put on the sleep clothes Theo brought me. I wore them both nights I slept in Marcus’s bed over the weekend, and as I slip the tank top on over my head, his scent tickles my nostrils—clean and fresh, with a hint of something like rich leather.
It’s an addictive aroma, something that I’ve come to associate purely with Marcus. As I breathe in the lingering smell of him, tears I haven’t allowed myself to cry yet burn behind my eyes.
Please. Please, Marcus. Don’t be fucking dead.
I blink hard, clinging with everything inside me to the last scraps of hope I have, then hang my towel up and step back into the bedroom.
Theo is sitting on the bed, and I start a little when I see him. I expected him to be back downstairs with Ryland by now, but he’s obviously been waiting for me. He stands up when he sees me, stuffing his hands into his pockets and tilting his head slightly.
“Anything else you need?”
“No. Thank you.”
He nods, then crosses to the window and closes the curtains, turning the room gray and semi-dark. He tugs back the covers on the bed and gestures for me to get in.
The second my body hits the mattress, my eyelids start to droop. I’ve been going on pure determination and adrenaline for a long time, but I’ve got nothing left.
Theo tugs the blankets up to my shoulders, then leans over and presses a kiss to my temple. “Sleep tight, Rose.”
He straightens back up, but before he can step away, my hand reaches out from beneath the covers, snagging his.
Theo pauses, looking down at our tangled fingers before glancing at my face. I can see the question in his eyes, and the answer comes easily to my tongue.
