Page 60 of Sacrifice
Too much experience.
Different blood, different countries, but the principle's the same.
Some things stain deeper than skin.
She finishes her drink, sets the glass on the windowsill. "I should shower. I need to... I need to not smell like a hospital."
"Master bedroom's through there." I point to the hallway. "Towels in the closet. I'll find you something to sleep in."
She nods and disappears down the hall.
A moment later, I hear water running.
I finish my own drink, then follow to dig out clothes for her.
T-shirt, sweatpants with a drawstring. They'll swallow her, but they're clean and soft.
My bedroom's as minimalist as the rest of the place—California king bed, dark wood furniture, one piece of art on the wall that Oakleigh from the Reapers Rejects MC painted for me.
The en-suite bathroom door is cracked, steam escaping.
I knock. "Clothes are on the bed."
"Thanks." Her voice is muffled by water and steam.
I should go back to the living room and give her some space.
Instead, I sit on my bed, elbows on knees, trying to process the night.
Someone came for her. Into her home. Hurt her best friend.
The rage I've been keeping locked down threatens to break free.
My phone buzzes. Text from Magnus.
Magnus:
Elfe is stable. Ivar, Starla, and Helle are staying the night.
Me:
Good. Any word on the security footage?
Magnus:
Vanir's working on it. Should have enhanced images by morning.
Me:
I want first crack at them.
Magnus:
Get in line. Ivar's ready to burn the city down.
Me:
He can have what's left after I'm done.
