“About Will? What…what do you think will happen with him?”
Daemon growled. “God, I do want to hunt him down, but here’s the deal. Worst-case scenario, he’s pissed when the mutation fades, and he comes back after us. If so, I’ll take care of him.”
My brows arched. Worst-case scenario to me was if he came back in any form—normal, mutated, or whatever—and got anywhere near my mom again. “And you think there was no way the mutation stuck?”
“Not if Matthew is right. I mean, I wanted to do it to get you out of there, but it wasn’t this true and deep want. He nicked an artery, but he wasn’t dying.” He cast me a look. “I know what you’re thinking. That if it did, we’re connected to him.”
Healing Will without really knowing what the outcome would be was a huge risk and sacrifice for Daemon. “Yeah,” I admitted.
“There’s nothing we can do about that now but wait and see.”
“Thank you.” I cleared my throat, but it didn’t help. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”
Daemon didn’t respond, but his fingers tightening around mine grounded me in reality. I told him about the Daedalus, but as expected, he hadn’t heard of them. The little talking we did on the way to the office building weakened my voice further, and each time my words ended on a raspy note, Daemon flinched. I pressed my head against the backseat, forcing my eyes to stay open.
“Are you okay?” Daemon asked as we neared Street of Hopes.
My smile felt wobbly. “Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me right now. Everything…”
“Everything is about to change.” He pulled along the back of the plaza, hitting the brakes. Pulling his hand free, he cut the engine. He took a deep breath as he glanced at the clock in the dashboard. We had five minutes.
Five minutes to get Dawson out of there if what Will had said was true. Five minutes wasn’t nearly enough time to prepare for this.
I took off the seat belt, ignoring the weariness sinking into my bones. “Let’s do this.”
Daemon blinked. “You don’t have to come in with me. I know…you’re tired.”
No way in hell was I letting Daemon face this alone. Neither of us had any clue what waited inside, what kind of condition Dawson was in. I opened the door, wincing as pins and needles shot across my feet.
Daemon was beside me in a second, taking my hand as he looked down, meeting my eyes. “Thank you.”
I smiled even though my insides were twisting and turning. As we walked up to the front doors, I started a mini prayer in my head for whoever was listening. Please don’t let this end badly. Please don’t let this end badly. Because in reality, this could go wrong on so many different levels it was frightening.
Daemon reached for the handle on the double glass doors and surprise, surprise, the door was unlocked. Suspicion blossomed. Too easy, but we’d come this far.
Looking up, I saw a circular piece of onyx embedded in the brick. Once inside, we’d be powerless, with the exception of healing. If this were a trap, we were so screwed.
We went inside. To the right, the alarm system shone green, meaning it wasn’t set. How much money did Will invest in this? The guards at the warehouse, Vaughn, and all the people he had to pay off to just leave the office building…unlocked?
Money would’ve been of no real hindrance to him. Hell, he’d turned over his own niece.
The lobby looked like any office-building lobby. Half-circle desk, fake plants, and cheap tile floors. There was a door leading to a stairwell that had been conveniently left open. Glancing at Daemon, I squeezed his hand. I’d never see him so pale, his face so hard it could’ve been made of marble.
His destiny waited upstairs, in a way. His future.
Squaring his shoulders, he started toward the door and we went, climbing the stairs as fast as we could. When we reached the top, my legs were shaking from exhaustion, but fear and excitement spiked my blood with adrenaline.
At the top landing, there was a closed door. Above it, there was more onyx—a sure sign. Daemon let go of my hand and wrapped his fingers around the handle, a slight tremor running up his arm.
My breath caught in my throat as he opened the door. Images of the impending reunion flitted through my thoughts. Would there be tears and shouts of joy? Would Dawson be in any shape to recognize his brother? Or was there a trap waiting to be sprung on us?
The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight streaming in through one window. There were a couple of folding chairs propped against the wall, a TV in the corner, and a large kennel-like cage in the middle of the room, outfitted with the same kind of manacles that had hung from mine.
Daemon stepped into the room slowly, his hands falling to his sides. Heat blasted off his body as his spine stiffened.
The cage…the cage was empty.
Part of me didn’t want to process what that meant, couldn’t let the thought sink in and take root. My stomach cramped, and tears burned the back of my sore throat.
“Daemon,” I croaked.
He stalked to the cage, stood there a moment, and then knelt, pressing his forehead against his hand. A shudder racked his body. I hurried to his side and placed my hand on his rigid back. Muscles bunched under my touch.
“He…he lied to me,” Daemon said, voice ragged. “He lied to us.”
To come this close, to come seconds from seeing his brother again, was heartbreaking. The kind of shattering there was no coming back from. There was nothing I could say. No words could make this better. The emptiness tearing open inside me was nothing compared with what I knew Daemon was feeling.
Choking back a sob, I knelt behind him and rested my cheek on his back. Had Dawson ever been here? There was a good chance he’d been at the warehouse because of what Mo had said, but if he’d been here, he was gone now.
Gone again.
Daemon jerked up. Caught off guard, I started to tip over, but he whipped around, catching me before I hit the floor and pulling me to my feet.
My heart stuttered and then accelerated. “Daemon…”
“Sorry.” His voice was rough. “We…we need to get out of here.”
I nodded, stepping back. “I…I’m so sorry.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. “It’s not your fault. You had nothing to do with this. He tricked us. He lied.”
I honestly wanted to sit down and cry. This was so wrong.
Daemon took my hand, and we headed back to the car. I climbed in, buckling the seat belt with numb fingers and a heavy heart. We pulled out of the plaza, hitting the road in silence. Several miles later two Ford Expeditions sped past us. I twisted in my seat, expecting the vehicles to do a one-eighty in the middle of the road, but they kept going.
Turning around, I glanced at Daemon. His jaw was carved out of ice right now. His eyes glowing like diamonds from the moment we stepped out of the office building. I wanted to say something, but there really weren’t words that could do the loss any justice.
Daemon had lost Dawson all over again. The injustice of it ate away at me.
I reached between us, placing my hand on his arm. He glanced at me briefly but said nothing. Settling back against the seat, I watched the scenery blur by in a mesh of shadows. I kept my hand on his arm, though, hoping it brought him comfort like he’d given me earlier.
By the time we reached the main route leading to our road, I could barely keep my eyes open. It was late, past midnight, and the only good thing I had going was my mom was in fact at work and not wondering where in the hell I’d been all day. There had probably been texts from her, and she wasn’t going to be happy when I responded with some lame excuse.
Mom and I were going to have to talk. Not now, but soon.
We pulled into Daemon’s driveway and the SUV idled to a stop. Dee’s Jetta was in the driveway, along with Matthew’s car. “Did you call them, tell them what happened to…me?”
He took a breath and I realized he hadn’t been breathing this whole time. “They wanted to help find you, but I had them stay here in case…”
In case things had gone badly. A very smart move. At least Dee hadn’t experienced the piercing hope that turned into bottomless despair like Daemon had.
“If the mutation doesn’t hold, I will find Will,” he said, “and I’m going to kill him.”
I was probably going to help, but before I could respond, Daemon leaned over the center console and kissed me. The tender touch was so at odds with what he’d just said. Deadly and sweet—that was what Daemon was; two very different kinds of souls rested in him, fused together.
Daemon pulled back with a shudder. “I can’t…I can’t face Dee right now.”
“But won’t she worry?”
“I’ll text her as soon as you’re settled.”
“Okay. You can stay with me.” Always, I wanted to add.
A wry grin appeared on his lips. “I’ll get out before your mom comes home. Swear.”
That would be a good idea. He asked me to wait while he got out and came around the front of the SUV, slower than he normally moved. Tonight had taken its toll. He opened the door and reached in for me.
“What are you doing?”
He arched a brow. “You haven’t had shoes on this entire time, so no more walking.”
I wanted to tell him that I could walk, but some inherent instinct told me not to push it. Daemon needed this, needed to take care of someone right now. I relented and scooted to the edge of the seat.
The front door to his house swung open, slamming against the clapboard like a gunshot. I froze, but Daemon spun around, his hands closing into fists, preparing to face anything and expecting the worst.
Dee rushed out. Strands of dark curly hair streamed behind her. Even from where I was, I could see the tears glistening on her pale cheeks, under her swollen eyes. But she was laughing. She was smiling, babbling nonsense, but she was smiling.
I slipped out of the seat, wincing as coldness bit deep into my flesh. Daemon took a step forward as the front door started to swing shut but stopped. A tall and thin form filled the doorway, swaying like a reed. As the form drifted forward, Daemon stumbled.
Oh God, Daemon never stumbled.
The why sunk in slowly, and I blinked—too scared to believe what I was seeing. It all seemed surreal. Like maybe I’d fallen asleep on the way back, and I was dreaming something too perfect.
Because under the glow of the porch light was a boy with dark wavy hair curling around broad cheekbones, lips that were wide and expressive, and eyes that were dull but still such a striking shade of green. An exact replica of Daemon stood on the porch. Gaunt and pale, but it was like seeing Daemon in two spots.
“Dawson,” Daemon croaked out.
Then he broke into a dead run, feet pounding over frozen ground and up the steps. Wetness gathered in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks as Daemon threw his arms out, his broader body blocking his brother’s.
Somehow, someway, Dawson was home.
Daemon pulled his brother to him, but Dawson… He was just standing there, arms limp against his sides, his face as beautiful as his brother’s but painfully empty.