Page 80 of Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates
Again.
The soldering tweezers slipped. Winter frowned at the ruined circuit board before knocking it to the ground. The board crunched under his boot, the sound soothing an ache inside him. He was distracted, his mind on Marigold and the clock ticking ever closer to Rebel ruining his happiness.
He would never be free of her. He remembered her angry final words, but mostly he remembered the sharp burst of pain. She swore at him, claws out, hitting and kicking. The wind tore her furious sound away, replacing her howl with its unending roar.
Winter found himself holding an iron crowbar. He didn’t remember picking it up, and he did not recall the impulse that made him bring it down to the machine parts on his workbench. Satisfaction surged through him as he destroyed the items, relishing the crunch and snap. He brought the bar down again and again, roaring with the joy of simple destruction, until only pulverized fragments remained.
He panted. A bot swept forward to collect the pieces, whirring and humming.
He could try to keep Marigold distracted, but the female was persistent. Her mind constantly whirled, a characteristic that charmed him but now led to frustration. She would unlock the attic eventually. She would ask questions about the vehicle under the tarp in the carriage house. Like a soap bubble drifting on the breeze, it would inevitably burst.
He needed to remove the evidence. Yes. The idea felt correct. The attic would be impossible to empty without her knowledge.
Winter scratched behind an ear. No. The attic, while painful, did not hold his shame.
That waited in the carriage house.
A relic of another time, the carriage house sat behind the main house, stone and timber with three wide doors. Originally built as stables, it had been converted to house ground vehicles. Living quarters for the chauffeur were upstairs.
The bay on the far right was empty as Marigold fetched Zero from school. The center bay housed an older vehicle, the caretaker’s work vehicle. Paint had faded from the sun, and gravel chipped the finish.
The heavy tarp covered the third vehicle.
Winter approached, still holding the iron bar. All he could hear was his heartbeat and the ghost of the wind from that night. Before he could think better of it, he tore away the tarp. Dust kicked up in the air, choking him.
The vehicle was a mangled mess. The frame crumpled around the driver’s compartment. His mind pieced together the information, sticking together a disjointed whole.
There. That was the part that broke his leg.
That bit of twisted metal trapped his arm.
The engine shoved forward into the compartment, smashing his knees.
The memory of wind and blood filled his senses.
Like a miracle, the passenger’s side remained unharmed. The safety harness dangled from the frame, where Rebel unhooked herself and left.
Left him trapped and bleeding. He did not remember that, but the investigators concluded that Rebel freed herself from the vehicle and left, most likely to seek help.
He huffed.No.He knew his mate, and she did not leave to seek help. She left him to bleed out, to be finally free of him.
“The former Mr. Cayne requested that we keep the vehicle as is,” a voice said behind him. Asan, one of the caretakers, stood next to Winter. “Was that incorrect?”
The iron bar clattered against the floor. “No. You followed instructions. I was hardly in a position to…” he managed to say, but the words drifted away. “We tried to beat the storm home.”
“Not an uncommon occurrence, sadly. The storms often move faster than people realize,” Asan said with a nod.
Corravian storms were legendary, massive storm fronts that rolled across the continent with fierce winds and driving rain. They kicked up dust and debris and could last for days, given the right circumstances. Flash flooding claimed many victims unfortunate to find themselves without shelter.
“I knew better,” Winter said.
He had lived on Corra for years, since he was a young male. He knew the risk, but Rebel did not want to leave the party until the last possible moment. He should have left hours before, even if it meant leaving his mate behind to do as she pleased. No doubt he would have read about her reckless behavior the next day. Ever the media darling, she would have made sure the cameras caught every moment.
How long was too long to keep the mangled wreck enshrined like a monument? Seven years was more than long enough. The destroyed vehicle served no purpose other than to cause distress.
“Get rid of it,” Winter said at length.
“Mr. Cayne was asking after the vehicle the other day,” Asan said. “I believe he intends to retrieve the computer’s onboard system.”
