Page 24 of Feed Your Fiends

“Did you check the surrounding towns?” I ask.

Bae nods, his stick-straight black hair shining beneath the only light fixture in his flat.

He’d moved into the same building as me, Aria, and Etienne, claiming he needed real estate outside of South Korea. A place where he could relax on weekends rather than staying at Beaulieu and yet, it’s still nearly as empty as the day he got the keys.

“Twice. We even searched the coast. Nothing. There aren’t any dark green Rolls registered at all.”

“They could’ve changed the colour,” I mumble, eyeing the photos for signs of damage to the fender. Of course, they would’ve had it repaired, but nothing’s ever perfect.

Bae takes the paper out of my hand slowly.

“It’s not a Rolls, Gant,” he says firmly. “We pulled repair records for every auto shop in town. None in Èze fixed a front left fender on a classic car like this in two years.”

“They could’ve fixed it hundreds of miles away.”

“Ormaybe… Elle’s wrong about the hood ornament.” Reaching behind him, he pulls out another stack of photos. “Show these to her. Maybe she’s mistaken about some things. A lot of brands use wings. The flying B has wings. It could be the wings of an animal too, like a swan.” He taps a photo of a large swan with a bent head. “The head could’ve caused the indent. You said Elle’s scar is round?”

Elle.

E

L

L

E.

It could be El. Or L. Or Ll. It would all sound like Elle. Isn’t that funny?

“Gant?” Bae asks, waving the papers in front of my face pointedly. “Have you slept? You’re eyes—”

“Right between her ribs. The round scar.” I nod and Bae tilts his head, observing me in that annoying fuck ass way. “But if you have these leads, just run them all.”

“That’d take months, you told me you don’t have. If we can narrow it down, I can get you answers in days.”

“I can’t ask Elle. She’s hiding from me.”

My dove’s flown away from the hospital and left her phone behind. The one I gave her all those years ago. The one I installed a tracker on during her first day at Beaulieu. Had she ditched it because she finally figured that out? Or did she get rid of it because she simply doesn’t want anything from me?

I don’t give a fuck what she wants. I know what she needs.

Me.

Not Jaime.

Not some roach-infested motel.

Not sheer isolation to keep feeding her dark thoughts.

She says I’m an angel of darkness, which means I’m still an angel. I can be her angel, too, because she needs me like I need her. And the fact that I don’t know where she is compounded with… I roll the shredded pieces of my mother’s letter in my coat pocket between my fingers faster…thisis sending me insane.

I told Dove I was cracking. Now I’m about to shatter. I just need one more fucking reason…

“You knew this would happen. But considering everything, I’d say you’re taking it well,” Bae says tentatively, observing my overly cool demeanour. “I didn’t expect you to be so…”

“Calm?”

I’m sitting like a normal person on a dining chair, my shoulders are straight, and my feet are flat on the floor. Poised. Reserved. Full of couth.What?Did he think I’d crash out and behave like a rabid dog, like the mannerless beast on the floor tearing into a plate of Zedd’s lemon pepper wings? All because I couldn’t sip from my pretty pussy, or sleep because I couldn’t hear her heartbeat and ensure that it never stops beating? Did he think I’d scratch like I had rabies? All because not being able to touch her has set my skin alight with an itch I can’t reach until I get her soft flesh back beneath my palms?

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