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I flipped on the lights and kicked off my shoes. I had a solid hour and a half to work before I had to meet Xavier for dinner. Part of me wanted to ask for a raincheck, but seeing him always made me feel better. I needed him after this shitshow of a day.
Needed.
I’d never needed anyone, and the idea that I needed him sent a little shiver down my spine—from fear or pleasure, I wasn’t sure. I tossed my tote bag on the couch and was about to slip into something more comfortable when I paused. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I looked around.
Something was wrong.
The apartment was still.Toostill.
I slowly retrieved the bottle of mace I always kept in my bag while my eyes roved over the TV, the bookshelves, and the door to my bedroom. Everything was as I’d left it that morning, so why…
My gaze snagged on the side table.
The Fish’s aquarium rested there, clean and clear.
Inthe aquarium, The Fish usually swam at his leisure, his orange scales beaming a hello every time I walked through the door.
Not anymore.
The Fish floated upside down in the tank, his eyes sunken, the pupils cloudy.
My mace clattered to the ground, the sound muted beneath the sudden roar of blood in my ears, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick it up.
Dead. He was dead.He was dead.
I didn’t understand the wellspring of grief that sprang from my chest or the tremble weakening my knees. I had no proper explanation for the burn in my eyes or the sudden, overwhelming sense ofemptinessthat invaded the apartment.
I wasn’t prepared for any of those things because The Fish wasn’t a cute, cuddly pet I’d bought for myself. He was my pet by default, abandoned by a stranger and housed here temporarily while I waited for the right time to rehome him. He’d never laid his head across my lap when I was sad or brought me a toy to play fetch with because he was a fucking fish.
But I’d lived with him for five years, and for five years, in this sterile apartment, we were all each other had.
I sank onto the couch and willed myself to cry, to expel the pressure mounting in my chest.
Once. I wanted that relief justonce, but as always, I didn’t get it. And an eternity later, when the pressure became unbearable and my will to fight eroded to nothing, I simply curled up on the couch, squeezed my eyes shut against the pain, and pretended I was someone, somewhere else because that was the only thing I’d ever been able to do.
CHAPTER34
Xavier
Something was wrong.
My and Sloane’s dinner reservation was at seven, and it was currently seven fifteen. For most people, running fifteen minutes late wasn’t the end of the world, but this was Sloane. She wasneverlate.
She hadn’t answered any of my texts, and when I called her, it went straight to voicemail.
I checked my watch again, my worry escalating by the minute. When I’d gotten in touch with her office earlier, Jillian said she’d left two hours ago to work from home. Had she fallen asleep? Been the victim of a mugging? Gotten into a car crash and rushed to the hospital?
A cold spike of terror pierced me at the prospect.
“Fuck it.” I ignored the scandalized glare from the couple next to me and grabbed my coat from the back of my chair. I wasn’t going to sit here like an idiot while Sloane was potentially bleeding to death somewhere.
I tossed a fifty-dollar bill on the table for the trouble and headed straight to the exit. Perhaps I was overreacting and Sloane would show up right after I left, rolling her eyes and huffing about my jump to conclusions, but I didn’t think I was.
Even if she wasn’t fatally wounded, she was hurt. I couldfeelit, an insistent cocktail of instinct and intuition that drove me into the back of a cab and toward her apartment.
My phone rang right after I gave the driver her address.
My pulse skyrocketed, then crashed. It wasn’t Sloane; it was Vuk’s office.
