Page 67 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

What was I doing? This… This was madness. Vile, soulless gluttony that betrayed everything I stood for.

Shame washed over me in waves as clarity gradually returned. I had nearly thrown myself into an orgy of bloodlust over a dead man’s corpse, like some ravenous beast without a shred of self-control.

The realization gutted me.

Disgusted, I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, smearing Greaves’s blood in a grim streak. How could I protect Flynn—protect anyone, do my damnedjob—when I still couldn’t even protect myself from my own depraved urges?

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting to regain my tenuous grip on control. When I opened them again, my gaze fell on the name badge still pinned to Greaves’s tattered shirt, the white plastic now stained red.

Dr Alistair Greaves. Pathologist.

Like a slap in the face, the reality of the situation materialised. If I hadn’t been too busy licking Greaves’s blood like a wild animal, I’d have already processed a very important fact—this was no random act of violence.

The open, empty briefcase in the back seat only confirmed it.

This was a personal attack against me.

Against Killigrew Street.

“Fuck!” I said aloud, as panic set in. I grabbed my phone, reaching for Kit’s SOS button, before changing my mind. There were two people I needed to call first.

Priya answered on the second ring.

“Peacock.” My voice came out rougher than intended. “Code Red at the drop site.”

“Noctule? What’s happened?”

“My supplier won’t be making any more deliveries.” I glanced at Greaves’s corpse. “Ever.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Bloody hell. Are you—”

“I need you to lock down the nest. Full security protocol. Checkeverycamera feed.” My fingers drummed against the car door. “And keep a close eye on our… new friend.”

“He’s with Magpie in the games room right now, playing air hockey.” She paused. “Should I move him?”

“No. Just… watch him.” The thought of them all so far away from me, where anything could happen, made my chest tight. “I couldn’t secure the supplies.Anyof them.”

“Christ.” Her voice dropped lower. “What are you going to—”

“Don’t you worry.” I cut her off. “Triple-check everything, and keep me updated with messages. I need to know he’s—” I caught myself. “That everyone’s safe.”

“On it. And Noctule?”

“What?”

“Be careful. You’re not exactly at your strongest right now.”

I ended the call, unable to acknowledge the truth in her words. The hunger gnawed deeper, made worse by my…lapse.

I dialled my next number.

“Teddy?” I said, when DI Maxwell picked up, and I couldn’t keep my voice from sounding strained. “I need your help. Urgently.” My tongue darted out, licking more blood from the corner of my mouth. Shame twisted in my gut as I forced myself to add, “And Detective… I’m afraid I’ve rather severely compromised a crime scene.”

I passed the time waiting for backup by cleaning myself with tissues from the glove compartment. The blood appeared stark against the white, and I fought the urge to taste it. My shirt was ruined beneath my coat, and my black tie was so soaked I stuffed it in my pocket.

I was inspecting under the vehicle for any trace of that damned hyena as Theodore Maxwell’s unmarked car pulled up, the small screech of tyres echoing through the quiet underground car park.

“Salazar.” His face was grim as he jumped out. “You alright? You look—”

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