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Reaper flinches, regret and consternation flashing across his beautiful face, but he doesn't call back his words.
A low rumble of thunder echoes through the rain-soaked courtyard. Lightning strikes overhead, illuminating cracks in the cement and leaves plastered to the side of the massive warehouse the Fae converted into their safehouse.
The metal building backs up to a cliff, making it impossible for anyone to attack from behind. The Fae own the other buildings on the street, ensuring they remain vacant. This one is currently at capacity, brimming with Fae warriors and the few Blooded who were brought to Seattle.
Most were sent to safehouses outside of the city. Those sent here are the few the Fae believe capable of helping to protect us—men like Stephan and Garrison who spent time in the army.
The top floor of the warehouse has been converted to bedrooms. The warriors sleep four deep. The bottom floor is reserved for common spaces—a kitchen, meeting rooms, and a massive amount of wood. Apparently, it's a cover, a front to explain why the Fae have so many warehouses scattered throughout the state. They own a large mill.
I stare at Reaper for a long, silent moment, my heart aching.
"They're my parents," I say again.
"I know, little Valkyrie. I know. But it isn't safe. We can't allow you to go."
My shoulders droop, tears threatening to spill over. I guess that's it, then. He's spoken, and what I need doesn't matter.
I turn from him, hurrying toward the back door so he doesn't see me cry.
"Tori."
The door slams shut behind me. I hear his loud curse, and a pang strikes my heart. But I don't turn around and go back. There's nothing else to say on the matter. He isn't willing to give me this one thing, the only thing I've asked.
It stings.
Rationally, I know I'm being unfair. It's not his fault that he is who he is. It's not his fault that the world is what it is. But they're my parents and I didn't even get to go to their funeral. I don't want to be rational. I just want to grieve.
Tears drip down my cheeks as I wander aimlessly through the massive warehouse in search of the darkest corner—one where he won't immediately find me. With fifty other souls crammed into this place, there aren't many places to hide. I keep my head down to hide the fact that it's not rain running down my face.
Abigail is in the kitchen with Adriel and Damrion. From the sounds of it, the warriors are arguing again. They're always arguing when it comes to her. I don't think they realize that if they'd just stop, they'd see what's right in front of them. She loves them both.
But she'll never be able to open her heart fully to them when she lives in fear of losing one of them because they can't get along. They're the only thing standing in the way of the happiness they seek. But they don't see it. They're too busy being angry at each other. The only person they're hurting is each other. And Abigail.
"Tori, are you okay?" she asks, her voice soft.
"Fine," I lie, hurrying my steps as I pass through the room.
The vivacious Seer doesn't believe me. She takes a step away from her warriors, concern etched across her lovely face. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I quickly shake my head and walk faster. "I'm fine," I say again. "Everything is fine."
She doesn't believe me, but she lets me go.
I slip out of the room, biting my bottom lip to keep from sobbing.
It takes all my strength to keep my steps even as I escape into an empty hallway. I turn right and scurry past two of the Fae warriors, their indistinct murmuring fading into the background as I keep my eyes averted and hasten down a deserted hallway.
There are no windows in the hallway. The warehouse wasn't designed to be beautiful. It's a place of safety, meant for protection. Like the bedroom upstairs, the walls are painted in dark, muted tones. The floors are cement.
I spot an empty meeting room at the end of the hallway and slip into it, pulling the door closed behind me. Grief gnaws at me relentlessly, like a ravenous wolf.
"Crap," I whisper into the cold room, tasting salt on my lip as tears continue to spill. I've loved Reaper almost from the moment I first laid eyes on him—the Fae destined to be mine—and yet he seems miles away from me now. I need him more than ever, but for the first time since he carried me out of my prison, I feel alone.
"Everything is not fine," I confess to the room, my voice echoing. My confession hangs heavy in the air, like a dark cloud ready to burst. And with that, I let the sobs shake through me. My body is racked with violent shudders, my shoulders convulsing with each painful cry.
The door swings open, hitting the wall with a bang.
Reaper. A tumultuous storm of worry, fear, and pain fill his amber eyes as he stares at me. He's massive, a formidable warrior. Yet, in this moment, he looks vulnerable…human.
