Page 5 of Shield

I don’t even know how to process this. This has to be Matti. The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. Is this his idea of a parting gift? Or a bribe? Some over-the-top attempt to convince me to hand over the flash drive? Imprisoning me didn’t work, so now he’s trying this? Fucking asshole.

If that’s the case, the joke is on him. I dump out the duffel bag Olivia gave me in the middle of the floor and rifle through the contents. Clothes. A couple of books. And a manila envelope.

I open it and drop the contents into my hand: a phone I don’t recognize and a note. It’s from Olivia.

Hey bitch,

Hope you like the rose gold phone. It matches mine. Let me know when you want to smut it up! Or go out and get druuuuuunnnkkkk!

Love ya,Olivia

Only two contacts are saved in the phone: Olivia and Dragovari. Fucking Matti. I delete the second one on principle, grumbling under my breath. At least I have a phone now. God knows where mine ended up after the chaos at the law office.

I flop onto the new couch, its cushions firmer than I’m used to, and text Olivia a quick thanks. Her response is immediate:

“Who luvs ya, bitch?”

I laugh, dropping the phone on the couch.

That’s when I notice the pile in the corner.

Emily’s things. The ones I salvaged from the wreckage. My throat tightens, and I close my eyes tightly for a moment. I’m too angry to cry and too exhausted to deal with it now.

What I need is sleep. Lots of sleep. All the sleep. And with any luck, I’ll wake up with all memory of that man washed away.

3

Siena

ONE WEEK LATER

The wind nips at my cheeks as I navigate the crowded sidewalks of Manhattan’s Financial District. Clutching my paper coffee cup with both hands, I savor the warmth and take a sip.

I missed the transition from summer to fall, and any day now, it will be winter. It’s the only sign that life has changed or moved on. In every other way, my life feels like it’s at a standstill. This is the first time I’ve left the house in a week, but I needed that time for the bruises to fade, the cuts to heal, and to just lie in bed and piece together everything that happened.

Pushing open the glass door of the Victim Advocacy Center, I’m greeted by the familiar jingle of the bell announcing my arrival. The sound is comforting. The small reception desk sits empty as usual, and the office space beyond it is divided into a grid of cubicles, their walls too high to see over unless you’re standing right next to them.

“I’ll be with you in a second!” A voice rings out from the back, and relief floods through me. For the first time in weeks, I feel a little lighter, like I’m stepping into a safe space.

When Amelia, my boss, rounds the corner and spots me, her face lights up, and she closes the distance between us in two bounding steps.

“Oh my God!” she shrieks. “Thank God, thank God! Oh my God—Blake! Blake!”

She turns back toward the cubicles, shouting for our coworker, and then wraps me in a bear hug so fierce it knocks the lid off my coffee, spilling it on my sweater and on the floor.

“Hey, good to see you too,” I say, laughing as I hug her back just as hard.

“Oh shit, I made a mess,” she mutters, pulling away. Her dark red curls are pulled back in a low pony and she’s wearing one of her usual jeans and sweater combos with minimal makeup obscuring her freckles. She ducks behind the reception desk to grab paper towels, her eyes never leaving me. “Siena, where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling nonstop. I went to your house. I filed a missing person’s report. I’ve been so worried!”

“I know, I’m sorry.” I hesitate, realizing I haven’t thought through what to tell her. Or what to leave out. “It was…out of my control.”

Blake’s head pops up from a cubicle like a meerkat. The moment he sees me, he lets out a dramatic squeal.

“Biiiiittttccchhhhh!” He barrels toward us, skidding to a halt just in front of me barely regaining control of his round body before crashing into the desk. His grin twists into a mock-serious glare, his short brown hair sticking up in all directions,his brown eyes twinkling. “You got some explaining to do. We’ve been worrying our fat asses off. Look at me!” He spins theatrically, pointing to his backside. “I lost fifteen pounds of ass worrying about you, then gained thirty back eating my feelings!”

I laugh, genuinely this time, and Amelia swats at him with the wad of paper towels before pulling me into another hug. “Okay, come back to my office and tell me everything.”

Blake grabs my hand, escorting me like a gallant knight. “Girl, you have no idea what you’ve been missing. Remember Alexandra Hayes? That fierce lawyer we used to work with? Some thugs stormed her office and fuckedeverybodyup. Like, no survivors. The cops have no idea who did it or why. Total clusterfuck.”

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