*PLEASE NOTE: THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER THAT I WILL BE SHARING. WICKED WILL BE AVAILABLE IN FULL ON MONDAY, DECEMBER 8TH, 2014 ACROSS ALL AMAZON SITES, B&N, iBOOKS, AND KOBO**
The rest of our shift was pretty uneventful compared to what happened at the start of it. I tried not thinking about that poor woman and the innocent man, the life that was lost in a matter of minutes, the life that would be lost, and all the other lives that would be impacted. Not thinking about it, as callous as that sounded, was the only way we could continue hunting. And I tried not to think about the tension-filled moment Ren and I had shared or the absolutely stupid question I had asked or his mysterious response. That was the only way I could still walk beside him without wanting to pitch myself in front of a moving vehicle.
We found three fae—normal fae—during our patrol. As much as it killed me to stand aside and let Ren handle them since I’d been ordered to not engage, I was already tired of arguing, at least for the night. Both of us would be off on Sunday, and I was thinking by Monday I’d be able to fight without risking much damage to the stitches.
When it was time for our shift to end at one, I wasn’t entirely surprised when he attempted to escort me home. “I’m going to get a cab,” I told him. “It’s too far of a walk, even in the day.”
Standing on the corner of Canal and Royal, he cocked his head to the side. “True.”
I really had no idea how to part ways from this point, and I felt like I could give a class on awkward. I could see the cab coming and I glanced at Ren. “Well, I guess I’ll . . . see you on Monday then?”
A slight smile appeared. “Sure.”
My eyes narrowed as the cab pulled up to the curb. Opening the back door, I stopped. “Where are you staying?”
“I’m renting a place over in the warehouse district.”
I was relieved to hear he wasn’t sleeping on the streets. Not knowing what else to say, I waved goodbye and climbed into the cab. I gave the driver my address, and not a minute afterward, my cell dinged.
I pulled it out of my back pocket, noticing that it was from a number I didn’t recognize, and all it said was thank you.
Curious, I typed back who is this?
The response was immediate. Ren
Oh. I’d forgotten he’d seen my number in the file and honestly hadn’t considered that he saved it even though he said he’d called me. I hadn’t even checked to see if he had, so I did just then. There was a missed call Friday night from the same number. I typed back what are you thanking me for?
YOU ARE READING
Things are about to get Wicked in New Orleans. Twenty-two year old Ivy Morgan isn’t your average college student. She, and others like her, know humans aren’t the only thing trolling the French Quarter for fun… and for food. Her duty to the Order is...