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I wanted to break the hands of the person responsible. Saint or not.
“The attack trial?” Grey asked, and I cleared my throat, drawing his eye. I looked pointedly at Becca.
“She knows,” Rook said, finally dropping his hands and sitting up straight. “We should have told her from the start.”
My jaw ticked, but arguing wasn’t going to help whatever the hell this situation was right now.
Rook pushed to his feet and gave Grey a nudge with his boot before shouldering past me towards Ava Jade’s room. His face betrayed a storm cloud of dark emotion he was working hard to keep under control. “A word,” he muttered as he passed, and I glanced between Ava Jade and him, jerking my head to tell Grey to follow.
Becca tucked herself into her friend’s side, avoiding the blades strapped to Ava Jade’s thigh and the one clutched in her hand. The one with the crow etched into the handle.
I made myself leave her there; it took everything I had not to demand answers right there and then. I wanted to shake Rook. To shakeher. Make them tell me exactly what the fuck happened and why the fuck she thought it was okay to lie to us about her mystery texter for so damn long.
But that wouldn’t win me any fucking points now, would it? And with the sound of her broken song still in my ears, I found I just couldn’t do it.
Rook shut the door behind us and drew something out of his pocket. It took me a second to register what it was.
“What the fuck is that?” I asked, even though it was obvious. My skin prickled, burning up like my edges had been ignited and I was nothing but paper. “Is she on drugs?”
Rook’s dark eyes met mine, and he shook his head once.
I noted the broken window behind him and frowned.
“She was attacked,” he explained. “And whoever attacked her tried to inject her with it.”
He was fucking playing with me. There was no way...
Grey snatched the syringe from Rook and pressed on the plunger enough to let a drop of the liquid slip out the top of the short needle head. He rubbed it between his fingers and sniffed.
A smell like limes tickled my nose. Familiarly mixed with the tarry scent of pine. I leaned in towards the substance coating Grey’s fingertips, but it wasn’t whatever the liquid in the syringe was. That was odorless, this was something else. So faint I could barely detect it, but it was there all the same. So familiar it grated on my nerves that I couldn’t place where I’d smelled it before.
“Do you know what it is?” Rook asked.
Grey shook his head, but he already had his phone out. He dialed a number. Hung up and dialed again. On the third attempt, the line connected. “I need you to ID a substance for me.”
A pause.
“Greyson Winters.”
An exclamation on the other end.
“I need you to come and get it from Briar Hall. It’ll be waiting for you with security. I need to know what it is within the hour.”
Another pause.
“Tell no one of this. You are only to give the information to myself or my brothers.No one else.”
He ended the call and pocketed the phone.
I didn’t know who it was, didn’t care, my mind was still reeling. I stared openly at the syringe, my blood going cold. “Diesel wouldn’t…”
“If not Diesel then I can think of only one other potential,” Rook put in, his anger flaring across his cheekbones.
“Her stalker,” Grey uttered, curling his fingers tight around the syringe.
“Tell us the rest,” I demanded, and Rook explained the entire thing from front to back, humoring me each time I asked for clarity.
He’d left her alone, like a fucking idiot, but it was too late to fix that. And the lack of anything useful in his story drove me near to madness.
