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“Do you think it’s a jab at you?” Yasha asks, tipping his chin towards the picture.
I shake my head. “If anything, it’s a compliment. He’s worried about me. He’s like a dog pissing on the street corner, trying to mark his territory.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Yasha grabs the paper and scowls at the image. “He’s trying to insulate himself with witnesses.”
“As if they could save him,” I mutter.
The fact that he thinks any amount of social pressure could stop me from getting to Cora is laughable. He has no idea the beast that he poked when he fucked with me.
He thinks these photos will save him, but I can see how tired Cora looks. How weak she is. If I needed more motivation—which I certainly fucking did not—I have it now.
I snatch the newspaper out of Yasha’s hand and study the picture again. This time, I look at the background.
The photo is a close-up. Nothing more than a few letters from a sign behind them is visible. And the description is useless.
I throw the newspaper back down on my desk. “We need to find out where they’ve been. I need a team trailing them.”
“Done.”
“Let me know if—”
“There’s something else,” he interrupts. “Before I saw the paper, I was going to call and tell you the news.” He smirks, clearly proud of himself. “I got us a meeting. With Marcus St. Clair. He’s expecting us.”
I try not to let my emotions get too out of hand. It might be nothing. He might not have any useful information for us.
But at this point, I’ll take any lead I can get.
I push back from my desk without hesitation. “Then what the fuck are we standing around for? Let’s go.”
15
IVAN
I feel the air change the moment we step out into the hallway. I’m pretty sure I smell sulfur and brimstone, too, actually. Which makes sense, because—
“Ivan!” she calls out.
Yasha curses behind me as I look down the hall at Francia.
She’s standing at the mouth of the hallway, blocking the exit. Her hands are on her hips and a sickly sweet smile twists her face.
I never found Francia attractive, but she was a cute enough girl. Innocuous. Now that I know what she’s really like, though, it’s as if I can see through the optical illusion. Whatever trick she uses to look nice and normal doesn’t work on me anymore.
All I see is the desperate fucking ghoul underneath.
“Where are you two off to?” she asks.
It’s the first time I’ve stood face to face with her since she moved in. Last night, I brushed past her in the kitchen. She was at the table eating what looked like warmed-over slop. I breezed past and went to my room where Niles had left me a plate of steaming hot beef and broccoli with a chocolate souffle for dessert.
I need to talk to Niles about the piss-poor job he’s doing making our new house guest feel welcome. Maybe give him a raise.
“Out,” I growl at her.
It’s as much as I’m willing to say. It’s already more than she deserves. She should be grateful.
“Do you know when you’ll be back?”
“No.”
