Page 31 of Born Chaos

With an intense expression on his face, he crosses back to the SUV, rounding to the driver’s seat. He climbs into it and starts the engine.

I keep looking at him, waiting for him to tell me what happened. I don’t want to ask. I don’t have the emotional energy to beg him to tell me what just happened inside, who he talked to, if anything violent happened.

But Roman doesn’t say a word.

So, silently, we drive through the night. I assumed he would take us straight to Roman Nights. Instead, he points us north. Block after block we pass pedestrians and endless buildings. Roman crosses the Chicago River and continues on north. If he were to turn right, we’d eventually end up at the hospital or my apartment building. But Roman continues driving. We drive so far, I almost think we’re going to Old Town.

But finally, he slows. He turns on his blinker, and we drop down into the underground parking garage of an apartment building. He immediately hooks to the right, and there, right next to the entrance, there is a row of parking spots, all marked ROSE SECURITIES. There’s only one car parked in the dozen spots. Roman pulls into the one closest to the door. Killing the engine, he pockets the keys and climbs out.

I have no idea where the hell we are, but all that matters is that I’m not in a place Sebastian controls. So, without question, I follow Roman to the door. He holds it open, and we rise back up to the street level. Roman immediately hooks left and right next door Roman heads for the front doors of a church.

It’s definitely not one of the most remarkable in the city. Its exterior is this light stone. It has a big arched window in the front with gothic ironwork woven throughout it. It has a spire with a green, copper roof atop it. It’s beautiful in a simplistic way.

Roman enters a code, pulls the wooden door open, and stands there, waiting for me.

Having no idea what to expect, I walk up the stairs, and through that door.

The chapel is beautiful, though I guess it couldn’t really be called a chapel anymore. All the pews have been cleared away. Every religious symbol has been removed. But there are still the towering ceilings, filled with intricate designs. Ornate columns climb the walls, supporting the roof. Arched windows are currently open, but the heavy drapery to either side tells they are all definitely closed during the day.

There are half a dozen desks spread throughout the space. Most of them hold enough monitors and computers to make this look like a sidekick’s headquarters. There are three motorcycles parked in one corner.

But Roman doesn’t stop to explain any of this. With his eyes fixed forward, he stalks straight for a doorway to the left of where there should be some kind of pulpit. Alter? Whatever would be front and center.

There is a man sitting at one of the desks, spy equipment at the ready. A woman stands beside him. But now, each of them stare at me as if I’m a purple elephant who’s just walked into their spy base church.

But there’s no time to investigate. Roman pushes another door, holding it open for me.

There’s a kitchen straight on, and it’s surprisingly modern and beautiful. In the center of it, there is a large dining table that could seat a dozen people. From here, there is a hallway that stretches either direction. Roman heads down one, still silent as the grave.

He opens a door, poking his head in. He glances around, like he’s evaluating whatever’s on the other side. He then pushes the door all the way open, and steps inside, waving me in.

It’s a bedroom.

There’s a queen-sized bed in the center of the room, made up with a dark blue comforter and white pillows. The ceiling is taller than I would have expected for this part of the church. The walls are a creamy white. But it’s the windows that immediately draw the attention. They’re beautifully arched and framed with wood that’s complex and elegant. And the stained glass is spectacular.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Roman says. “As long as you need. The rest of the council doesn’t know this place exists, so no one is going to bother you if you don’t want them to.”

“What is this place?” I ask, finally finding my voice. My brows furrow as I look at the man who is surprising me more and more by the minute.

Roman looks around. “My actual base of operations. It’s a secondary location. The majority of things are run out of the club. But I bought this place ten years ago. I like having a backup plan. Self-reliance. Sometimes people don’t act the way you expect them to.”

“That’s for damn sure,” I breathe.

Roman’s eyes slide back over to meet mine. “I won’t ask you to tell me what happened, Juliet. I’ll only ask this: was it bad enough he deserves to be taken out?”

Goosebumps flash over my arms, crawling up the back of my neck.

Emotions surge in me, and I hope I keep my eyes from turning red again, from welling, but I’m not sure I’m successful.

“No,” I answer. What he did was horrible. But it doesn’t justify him needing to die.

Roman only nods once. “My people come and go from here,” he explains. “So, don’t let it freak you out if you hear someone come in and out, if you hear people talking. Things are fairly quiet in the city right now until we know what’s happening to the sick vampires and the gifted. So, there won’t be a lot of traffic. My room is just across the hall if you need anything.”

Stiffly, numbly, I nod. I wrap my arms around my waist, trying to hold it together for just a few moments longer. When I fall all the way apart, I’d rather no one be around to witness it.

“Just one second,” Roman says. He slips out the door and opens the one across the hall. I hear him scrounging around before he returns just a few moments later with a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He hands them to me. “We can figure everything out tomorrow. For tonight, I figure you might want to get out of that dress.”

I look down at it, and suddenly, all I want to do is burn it. “Thank you,” I offer, meeting those vividly blue eyes once more. “I—”

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