Black Bird (Nevermore Duet #1)

CHAPTER 36

THE TIES THAT BIND

Her nose burned, and she felt so many different things in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t tell if she was beginning to finally starve, shit, or throw up whatever was left. Wren had exhausted the last of her options when she went after Conrad with that piece of glass. Of all the stupid fucking things …

Through the haze of what she could make out now, she saw that moment with perfect clarity. The meaty sound of his flesh ripping open when she’d swiped that jagged edge across his ear. How it missed his face and eye. How it slipped out of her hand like it was covered in fucking butter. She’d been so dumbfounded by the mere failure of it all that whatever fight had been left in her just vanished. He took her down so easily then. If only she’d taken Rhaena up on her offers to go hit some bags.

She didn’t know for certain how long she’d been down here in this shit hole, but it had been long enough to drain the last of her will. Wren’s arms hung from a set of metal cuffs on a chain that looked like props from a slasher movie. She supposed there was no use cracking on the leathery senator’s antics now. It seemed he’d won. Even if he ended up getting what he wanted from Sarah, Wren knew she’d probably die down here. What a way to go.

Her mouth stung as she tried to move it beneath the duct tape that had trapped strands of her hair. They tickled her nose and parts of her swollen face, and she couldn’t even scratch it. Fuck drowning or burning alive. This was by far the worst way to die. She’d rather have her fingernails slowly ripped out one by one … or maybe some teeth removed, than literally itch to death. Her ankles were tied, and her back rested against the wall as she slumped her shoulders and accepted defeat. Warm tears started to trickle down her cheeks, and her swollen eye barely opened. Her chest sputtered with broken sobs, and she silently prayed that if God was listening, he’d take her now, and put her out of her misery. She didn’t wanna stick around for the finale. She could only hope that Rhaena and Athan would help Sarah give this asshole what he deserved when she was gone.

Wren startled when the door to the basement opened, and heavy footsteps started down the rickety stairs. Conrad appeared, panicked, and disheveled, with the regular tan bandages plastered in heaps around his ear. She stifled her laugh as he started towards her .

“Good. You’re awake. I’m sure you’re a lot more uncomfortable now. I’m gonna make this easy for you, bitch. You have two options. Either you can play nice, keep your mouth shut and your hands to yourself …” He pulled a polished revolver from his pocket and pulled back the hammer. Wren backed herself against the wall. “Or, I can kill you right here and now. Forgive me, but I’m pressed for time. What’s it gonna be?”

Shuffling from upstairs sounded, and she could hear Gretchen talking to someone. “Where is she!” She knew that voice. That wasn’t Kane. That was— “Wren!”

Dear God … Brent.

Wren screamed hoarsely, making very little progress past the tape on her mouth, and Conrad squatted over her, pressing the gun to her forehead. Wren shook, quieting as her good eye focused on the bullets he could so easily empty into her skull. He held a finger to his mouth, and then started untying her ankles, keeping the gun pressed against her so hard that it hurt. He unhooked a latch, and her arms fell, still bound, but free, at least from the wall. He raised up, keeping the gun pointed at her and hauled her up by the short chain between the cuffs.

“You make a sound … I’ll blow your fucking head off. You understand?” Conrad whispered, spitting on her face as he spoke. Wren nodded, squeezing her eyes shut as Brent stormed through the upper floor. Conrad took her under the stairs, and behind an enormous hot water heater where a small door was hidden. He creaked it open and pulled a long chain that fired an old light bulb to life, revealing a narrow set of steps that led to God only knew where. He jerked her forward and Wren stumbled, nearly tripping up the dusty stairs. “Move,” he whispered, stabbing her spine with the barrel of his gun.

The small space seemed endless and got darker the farther up they went. Wren could barely feel her legs by the time they’d made it to another small door. Conrad pressed himself against her back and grabbed the chain between her wrists with one hand, reaching over her shoulder with the other, and turning the knob. It opened onto a stone patio in the back of the mansion, and she nearly wept when she felt the cold air on her face. He forced her forward and shut the door behind them.

She’d been that close to her freedom this entire time …

Brent slammed door after door, looking for Wren, his father, or both. Gretchen hadn’t stopped him—nor did she follow him. He raced back down the stairs to find her standing in the darkened dining room, staring out the large windows with her arms crossed in front of her. Something wasn’t right about her. He braced a palm on the dining room doorway, nearly out of breath from his run through the large house.

“Where is he? Where has he kept her? I know she’s here.” Brent looked around, suddenly noticing the lack of security that was usually all over the house. “Where are all the security personnel?” She didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, she continued to silently peer out the window. “Gretchen!”

The shadows of the windowpanes moved across her face as she turned it towards him, pale moonlight painting her like a ghost. She tilted her head towards the window before staring back out of it. Brent slowly trudged towards her, and when he turned his head …

“Oh my God,” he breathed, turning and unlocking the back door to the patio where Conrad jerked Wren by a chain. He startled as Brent ran out, turning towards him, and pointing his gun at Wren’s head. “Wren! Let her go, Dad! What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, son. Not until I get what I need.”

Wren was mangled. Her hair strung in clumps around her face. Her eye was so dark and swollen that she couldn’t even open it. She screamed around a massive hunk of tape and dried blood. “Wren! Wren, I’m so sorry … it’s gonna be alright,” Brent said, holding his palms up and inching towards her. He trembled with utter rage at the sight of her. “Give her up, Dad … you’re already looking at twenty years for this shit. Let her go.” Wren sobbed as his gun dug into her temple.

“Tell your whore to save your mother’s life. That’s the price for this one. Her blood,” he nodded towards Wren, “for her best friend.”

“You’re too late,” Brent seethed. “You’re too late, Dad. Mom is gone.”

Conrad slackened, his face drooping as the words sank in. For half a second, Brent felt pity for him. “W-what?”

“I offered her Sarah’s blood. Sarah gave it to me to offer it to her. She turned it down. Mom was ready to go. She told me to give it to Annie, and … and I did.” Brent inched closer, keeping his palms up. “Sarah already did what you’re asking before you even took Wren. It’s over. Let her go.”

“She’s—” Conrad’s voice broke with emotion. “She’s gone?”

“It’s what she wanted, Pop.”

Conrad backed up a step, shaking his head and trembling. “No … no, I don’t believe it.” He turned the gun on Brent. “This is your fucking fault! If you had done what I fucking asked you, she’d still be here!” The gun shook, and tears started rolling down his cheeks. Wren moved forward, crying loudly, as if she were trying to stop him, and he made to turn the gun back on her. Brent lunged for her …

BANG…

Gravel flew from her tires as Rhaena’s truck skidded to a stop behind Brent Stratford’s silver Beamer. The driver’s side door was wide open—as was the front entrance to the house. Rhaena pulled her weapon, along with Jenkins and Captain Foley, who were both hot on her heels as she aimed forward and carefully started up the front steps to the massive residence .

“Boston P.D.!” Rhaena called as she approached the open door. A single shot rang out, startling all three of them, and Rhaena turned, pointing her gun towards the sound. “Shit!”

“That was outside! Split up!” Foley said, pointing two fingers to both sides of the house. He took off towards the right, moving faster than Rhaena had expected, and she turned, following Jenkins around the west end of the mansion.

“No!” a voice called out from the back. Rhaena and Jenkins sprinted faster. “ Fuck! No, no, no, no!”

That was Conrad Stratford …

Rhaena heard muffled screaming, followed by hard sobs. There was no mistaking that voice, either. They bolted around the side bushes and rounded the corner to the back of the house where a large patio came into view.

“Drop your weapon!” Foley yelled, pointing his gun at Conrad. The senator jumped, spinning towards him and firing a shot. She only heard one gun go off as her heart sank, and Rhaena screamed.

“Cap!” She and Jenkins hopped the stone railing, guns drawn, to find Brent on his stomach, bleeding heavily, while a very battered Wren leaned over his back wailing with her hands bound in front of her. Rhaena’s attention darted towards Foley, who had taken a bullet to his thigh, and had dropped his weapon. It had flown clean towards the open back door to the mansion. Conrad shook violently, hyperventilating as his gun wobbled in his unsteady hands. He was in shock. “Drop the weapon, Stratford!” Rhaena growled, loudly, aiming for the back of his head. “Fucking drop it! I will shoot you, you piece of shit! I swear to God!”

Jenkins kept his gun aimed for Conrad, and stayed close behind her as he went after Wren. Conrad continued to breathe heavily. “I—I didn’t mean—I didn’t—” he stuttered through deep grief, “Brent …”

“Drop the fucking gun!” Rhaena warned again, moving closer to the senator. Foley staggered, sweating bullets, and she noticed his movements becoming very familiar … too familiar … “Captain, are you good?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, his breathing grew rapid, and his back hunched over. Conrad stumbled back, and Rhaena’s eyes grew wider as his injured leg grew longer … misshaped … along with the other. Feral growls erupted from her captain, and his legs became haunches. His clothes began to tear, and thick black fur grew over him as his body shifted, and his face turned as he roared loudly, long fangs dripping strings of saliva as they all stood frozen in shock.

Foley … he was … bitten. He’s a wolf … holy shit … he’s a wolf …

“Malcolm …” Rhaena whispered under her breath, staggering forward as Foley heaved through his snout. He huffed loudly, and leapt over the railing, disappearing into the wood line. Rhaena’s mind spun. Uncle Elston … he had … bitten him. Turned him. That’s why he’d been so eager to know her. He knew what she was, and he had been alone. Another lone wolf with no pack. Rhaena’s breath hitched, and she was snapped out of her stupor when Jenkins called her name .

“Rhaena!”

Rhaena shook it off, pointing her gun at Conrad, who was visibly shaken by what he’d just seen, and done. He slowly turned to face her, his lip quivering when he looked down at his son. “I’m so sorry, I—I never meant—”

BANG!

The side of Conrad’s face exploded, and Rhaena winced as his blood splattered her face. He dropped like a stone.

BANG, BANG, BANG!

Three shots fired from behind her, and Rhaena jerked her gun towards her right, just in time to see Conrad’s assistant fall—with Foley’s gun in her hand. Rhaena ran over, kicking the gun away and dropping to her knees next to Gretchen. Jenkins had been a dead shot. She had taken two to the chest, and one to her abdomen. Rhaena pressed her hand against the wounds on her breast as Gretchen struggled to breathe.

“I’m—I’m sorry …” Gretchen choked, gripping Rhaena’s shirt. “I w—I wasn’t aiming for you …”

“I know, shhh … calm down. You’ll be alright.” Rhaena looked over her shoulder at Jenkins, who now held onto Wren. Wren sobbed hysterically and still clung to Brent, who hadn’t moved at all. “Is he?” she asked. Jenkins was already on his phone.

“He’s alive, but barely.” Jenkins pressed two fingers to Brent’s neck. Wren ripped the tape from her mouth, and it hung in her hair. “This is Detective Brandon Jenkins, badge number 84476 … I’ve got an off—” he paused, looking towards the woods, and then at Rhaena. She shook her head rapidly. “We need an ambulance and a coroner at the Stratford residence immediately.”

“She wasn’t working for him, Rhae,” Wren sniffled, nodding towards Conrad’s assistant. “He was blackmailing her.”

Rhaena returned her attention to the dying woman. “He did it …” Gretchen breathed, trembling. “H-he did everything. I’m not—sorry … I’m not …” Gretchen struggled for a couple seconds but wasn’t able to speak another word. Rhaena grabbed her hands and held them as she took her last gurgling breath. Gretchen’s eyes stared lifelessly up at the sky, and Rhaena turned to look at Jenkins. The phone slid from his ear … slowly, and his eyes closed. He was just doing his job. He knew he’d done the right thing, but … the circumstances would be tough.

Rhaena hurried over to him and tilted his face up by the chin. “You’ve done nothing wrong. We’re gonna get through this.” She turned towards Wren, throwing her arms around her as Wren broke down on her shoulder. “We’re all gonna get through this. We’re okay.”

“He—” Wren sobbed. “Brent, he … he jumped in front of Conrad’s gun and—”

“It’s okay, Wren …” Rhaena reached down, checking Brent’s pulse. It was weak, but steady … a very good sign. “He’s gonna be alright.”

“Are you sure?” Wren asked in a broken exhale as she wiped her nose on her cuffed wrist.

“Yeah. He’ll make it. Stratford’s tougher than he looks. ”

Sirens started sounding from off in the distance, and Rhaena pulled Jenkins and Wren close as they sat next to Brent. As they waited, she stared off towards the woods, not able to keep herself from worrying about Foley, and fully understanding why nobody had said a word about it yet. The only surviving witnesses to have seen the captain change … were the three of them. Which meant his secret would remain safe. What an interesting example of the ties that bind. What a truly deserving end to a man that spun such a complicated web of evil. What a completely fucked up situation.

This … was going to be a very thick stack of paperwork.

He tried earnestly not to look at the bloodied body of the woman he’d killed as they zipped the black bag over her and began moving her to the coroner’s van. Foster had arrived with the ambulances, and was busying herself with the statements, and teams that were arriving to collect evidence. The sound of shutters clicking all around him were striking nerves he didn’t realize he’d had. Brandon Jenkins didn’t even know how badly he was shaking as Foster approached.

“Hey.” She nudged him, placing a hand on his wrist. “Get it together, man. Your lady is right. You didn’t do anything wrong. She had a weapon pointed in the direction of a fellow officer.”

“She wasn’t gonna shoot her,” Jenkins choked out, pulling his arm out of her reach. “If I’d waited a second longer—”

“If you’d waited a second longer, she could have killed your girl. You didn’t know. You’re a cop. You’re not supposed to take that risk. She had just blown someone’s face off, Jenkins.” Foster crossed her arms, pressing her lips into a tight line.

“Yeah …”

“Look, I’m sorry to have to ask this right now, but … how did she end up with our good captain’s service weapon? Did you think I would miss something like that?”

Jenkins snapped his eyes to Rhaena, who was talking to Wren in the back of an ambulance. His eyes caught a few tagged spots of blood where Foley had been shot in the leg. “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t gonna do this here, Foster.”

“Why? Where is he? And how could he have made a mistake like this? Has it been that long since he was outta the field? I’d have thought he’d do better by both of you considering—”

“Watch it,” Jenkins spat through his teeth. Foster’s brows raised at his tone. “You don’t talk about him like that. His past is none of your business.”

“His present definitely is, detective. Especially under the circumstances. ”

“The circumstances … are why I’d rather discuss it somewhere more private, Agent Foster .”

She pursed her lips. “Look … it’s been a long night for me, too. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I’m not following wherever it is you’re going with this. So, if you’d please get to the point—”

“Consider this mishap an area of your expertise, Foster. Do I need to spell it out for you?” Her eyes widened. Jenkins lowered his voice into a whisper and stepped closer. “He’s not here because Foley … was not what left this crime scene.”

“Not what left this crime scene?” she repeated.

“Exactly.”

She tightened her arms across her middle, and smirked as she turned herself around and rolled her eyes. “I will be damned. So … he was shot. And then …”

“Yes.”

“I see.” She huffed, facing him again. “How bad is he injured?”

“From what I could tell, Stratford got him in the front part of his thigh. I think he’s alright. We don’t have any idea where he’d go … obviously naked and bleeding. I doubt we’d find him at a hospital, or anywhere public.”

“Well,” Foster started, shrugging her shoulders. “If you were … one of those … and you only knew one other person who would understand … where would you go to lick your wounds?” Jenkins caught her implication and jerked his face towards her. Foster snorted. “Save it. I know. I’ve known for a while, and I’m not outing her. Relax. My job is to keep the lid on it, remember?” She cocked her head to the side.

“I’ve gotta go,” Jenkins said, rushing past her towards the ambulance.

“Don’t think either one of you are skipping out on these reports, Jenkins!” Foster called out behind him.

“Rhaena.” Jenkins huffed, jogging up to the open doors of the ambulance as they patched Wren up on the stretcher. Rhaena let go of her hand and slid down to the floor to meet him, taking a seat. “We uh … need to go to the house.”

Her brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“Foster thinks Cap might um …”

“Oh shit.” Her eyes lit up in realization, and she turned back towards Wren. “Will you be alright?”

“I’m fine. Go.” Wren waved a hand toward them, shooing them off. They hopped into Rhaena’s truck, and were following the coroner out of the long, private driveway before either of them spoke again.

“I can’t get Athan or Sarah. I’ve tried a thousand times. You would think they’d wanna know that we found Wren, at least.” Rhaena tossed her phone into her cup holder in frustration.

“You know better than that, babe. Nobody wants to know she’s safe more than Sarah does, I’m sure. ”

Her eyes boggled, and she snapped her face toward him, jerking the car to a stop. “Wait—that could only mean … we’ve gotta go find them. Now.”

“Rhaena, stop.” Jenkins held his hand out. “Just because they’re not answering, doesn’t mean they’re in trouble. They might have them off, or tucked away so they don’t get caught up in something they can’t get out of. Have a little faith in your partner. Right now, our captain is out there injured, and he needs us. Athan isn’t gonna let anything happen to that girl, and you know that.”

She eased back in her seat. “You’re right,” she whispered, nodding and staring forward. “You’re right …” She pulled out and made a left towards her building, and he took her hand, squeezing it. There was a long stretch of silence, and she finally looked over at him as they came to a stop light in town. “Thank you, Brandon.”

“For?”

“For having my six.” She smiled softly, gripping his fingers. “I love you.”

His chest ached every time she said it. If anything had happened to her tonight, he’d never have forgiven himself. It made the pill of taking that life tonight, a tad bit easier to swallow. “I love you too, Rhaena Northwood. I hope you don’t have any plans to try to leave me anytime soon. We’re blood bound now.”

Her face scrunched and she half-grinned. “Oh? And how do you figure that?”

“I’ve cleaned it and spilled it for you. I don’t reckon it gets much deeper than that. You’re fuckin’ stuck with me … Gloves .” He grinned right back, pulling her knuckles to his mouth and kissing them.

“You better not be trying to propose to me like this. I’ll make a training dummy out of your ass.”

“Not today.” He lingered on her hand and stared at her. “You should press the gas. You’re pissing people off.” A horn honked behind them, and Rhaena’s face jerked forward.

“Shit,” she cursed, stomping the pedal.

Every inch of Malcolm Foley shook, from his sweaty bald head to his bare toes, as he crouched against a cabinet door in Northwood’s apartment and held a large black trash bag around himself. He’d found his way to a sketchy gas station after he returned to his human form and limped around the shadows until he’d found an abandoned janitor’s cart sitting outside the back door. He pulled off one of the industrial bags and ripped it open to cover a larger amount of his skin. He hadn’t been able to find anything to staunch the bleeding of his leg, but by the time he’d made it to her apartment, he was able to dig out the slug that remained in it. He plugged the wound with a balled-up paper towel .

Not willing to bloody up her apartment any further, Foley sat on the tile, careful to try and bleed more on the trash bag than her floor. He had lost too much blood. He could feel his consciousness slipping by the minute. Just as he was about to give in, the door opened, and Northwood burst through it, Jenkins rushing in behind her.

“Cap!” she panicked, rushing to his side. “Oh my God … Brandon, take these.” She held up her keys, singling one out and Jenkins took it. “Go to Athan’s. Look in the bottom left drawer of his fridge and get me a pint of that blood. Hurry!”

“No—” Foley grunted, grabbing Rhaena’s wrist. “I don’t want any of his—”

“It’s just O-neg. Same thing you’d get at a hospital, sir. Please … lemme help you.” He held her eyes for a moment and dropped his hand weakly at his side. His breathing was labored, and Rhaena looked down at his leg. “May I?” she asked politely. He clenched his jaw around the pain as he carefully lifted the pressure off of his wound. It bled freely when he did, and Rhaena covered it with her palm. “Sir, you need to get to a hospital. I’ve only stitched someone up once, and I don’t—”

“No,” Foley huffed, resting the back of his head against the cabinet. “No hospitals, Gloves. I’m sorry—this … this is the only … place I could think to go.”

Rhaena quieted for a moment. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? All this time, you’ve—you’ve known what I was?”

He kept his head back and slowly lolled it from side to side. “I didn’t …” Jenkins returned with a bag of blood and crouched next to Rhaena, whose brows knitted together. “I felt some kind of connection to you … something strong. It wasn’t romantic, Northwood. I’ve never had family. It … felt like family.” He noticed her eyes going misty. “I … had this strong need … like I wanted to protect you. I never susp—suspected that we were alike until … Foster.”

“She told you?”

“She implied it.” He groaned and looked down at his leg. “I put the pieces together myself. I think I was certain about … everything … when she threatened to blow your cover in that room. Then I came here, and …”

Rhaena sighed, sniffling and hanging her head briefly before raising it back to him. “Captain … I—” she paused when he looked at her. Her face started to go fuzzy, and dizziness set in. “Cap.” She took his chin, raising it. “Malcolm!” It all went dark. He could barely hear their voices as he slowly faded out.

“Help me get him into the bedroom.”