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23
“What the hell are you doing?” I cry.
In the same instant, Braxton asks if I’m okay.
But my voice is louder, angrier, and it demands to be heard.
“You can’t just barge in! What if—” My mind whirls with a list of all the embarrassing things I could’ve been doing. Yet few of them are as bad as being caught in an Unraveling.
I mean, how am I supposed to explain why he’s caught me standing frozen before my own window, tears streaming down my face, as I mumble, whimper, and hyperventilate?
I jerk free of Braxton’s grip, flip the switch next to the hearth, and move to stand in front of the fire, where I make a show of warming my hands, hoping to mask the real cause of my jittery fingers.
“I knocked.” Braxton’s tone is less defensive than I would’ve expected. “Multiple times. And loudly, I might add. Natasha—” He makes to step toward me until he sees my sharp look of warning and wisely stays put. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
His gaze is imploring, but I’m quick to turn away and stare into the flames. It’s been so long since the last Unraveling, I assumed I’d outgrown them. Still, I’m not about to explain it to him. I can barely even explain it to myself.
“Is that how things work around here—if I don’t answer on your timeline, you storm in?” My tone is harsh, but I have every right to be angry. “And how the hell did you even get in—is your thumbprint all-access? Is there no respect for anyone’s privacy?”
He exhales a deep sigh. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But, after repeated knocking, I decided to look in.”
“And as you can see, I’m fine,” I insist, though I don’t dare meet his eyes for fear he’ll see the lie.
Braxton regards me for a long, cool moment as though debating how to proceed. Deciding on a practical approach, he motions toward an elaborate silver tray heaping with fine china, freshly brewed coffee, and pastries.
“You’re scheduled for lunch soon,” he says, “but, since you missed breakfast, I thought this might tide you over.” He busies himself filling two gold-rimmed cups, one of which he offers to me.
On the surface, the gesture is kind. But it’s going to take a lot more than that for me to lower my guard. Still, I take the coffee, pluck a croissant from the basket, and settle onto a velvet settee. Seeing as how I’m now stuck on this rock for the foreseeable future, I may as well use the moment to learn what I can.
I don’t waste any time; I get straight to the point.
“What exactly is this place?” I tear off a piece of croissant and plop it into my mouth, hoping to come off as just curious and not at all bothered by the sight of that disappearing person.
According to what little my dad told me, the Unraveling is kind of like how a psychic sees into the future. Only instead of the future, I get a glimpse of the past.
Which means at some point, a person in a red velvet robe disappeared, then reappeared in the maze down below.
Though what it might mean, and why I was chosen to see it, is anyone’s guess.
Braxton sits stiffly in the silk-upholstered chair beside me. “What is it you really want to know?” he asks.
Without missing a beat, I say, “What’s the price? What does Arthur want from me?”
Braxton doesn’t so much as blink. And with his blue gaze resting on mine and his hands on his knees, he reminds me of a witness on court TV—nervous, sworn to tell the whole truth, but not yet decided whether he will.
He inhales a slow breath. On the exhale, he says, “This isn’t about human trafficking or mail-order brides.” Reaching for his coffee, he cradles the cup between his palms. “That’s the first conclusion most people jump to, but it’s nothing like that. Gray Wolf really is an academy, though I admit, it’s not the usual kind. The classes here are more…hands-on. The lessons have real-life applications—and implications as well.”
“Real-life implications like people vanishing into thin air?”
He tries to play it cool, but it’s too late. I catch the startled look that flashes across his face.
“Down there.” I motion toward the window. “In the maze.”
His features darken and shift as though considering whatever comes next. “There’s nothing down there, Natasha. Or at least, there’s no maze."
