Chapter 1
The hospital was chaos. A heavy frost in the morning meant a plethora of accidents, both on the roads and at home. People came in and out of the emergency room, crying, bleeding, and in shock. Those who didn’t need medical attention were asked to sit with their waiting loved ones or to kindly sit far, far away from the counter and the emergency doors.
This was where Nala sat, staring at the scenes unfolding before her. One man had a broken wrist, iced and wrapped, but in further need of care. He sat in front of Nala, rocking back and forth, muttering nothing in an attempt to take his mind off the pain. His only companion was a ten-year-old boy Nala figured was his son.
Two rows in front of her was a woman swaying back and forth in her seat, complaining of incredible stomach pains. Her family did their best to make her comfortable.
I’m hiding here. Nala’s eyes both darted around the room and kept to themselves. She was alone, friendless, loverless. She didn’t know where Vincent was. After he drove them to the hospital behind Robin’s ambulance, he pulled the fact that he had been a healthy benefactor to this very hospital the previous year and got both him and Nala in to follow Robin even though Nala would much, much rather run away.
She hated hospitals. Hated them almost as much as she hated living in fear of…
Nala pulled the crumpled note from her pocket and stared at the words. If she didn’t need further proof that Hawk was an assassin, the bird tracks signing the message said everything she needed to know.
What do I do? Why was Robin selected? Why was Robin dumped in Vincent’s place? To send a message. To me. Robin was Nala’s only friend, let alone in The Aviary. Not only would she send a message to Vincent and Nala, but she would send one to every other member.
Fear crept into Nala’s blood again. What do I do?
Her phone continued to blow up with messages from Vincent. He tried calling her multiple times, but they went straight to voicemail. “Where are you??? Come back here now! Do you know what’s happening? You can’t be by yourself!”
Nala wanted to curl up on the plastic seats of the emergency room and pretend she was ten again, with her sister coddling her as she always did. Then she would eat some of her mother’s home cooking. I was supposed to cook for Vincent tonight. The groceries were left to rot in his living room.
Eventually she had to get up and wander away. She didn’t dare go outside. Besides, she needed to know how Robin was doing. When she last saw her, she was coming out of surgery still in critical condition.
Nala only sent one text. “What room?”
“C67. Get here now.”
She was too shaken up to be annoyed with his tone. He’s worried about me. Nala was worried about him too. If Vincent thought she was brash? He hadn’t looked in a mirror.
C67 was a good hike away, and by the time she got there Nala had encountered an unfamiliar name. Clara Montgomery. She stared at it, the only name by the single occupancy room.
It had to be Robin’s real name. To see her as a woman named Clara was both natural and completely strange.
Robin – or was it Clara? – lay in her bed, hooked up to a million wires and tubes. Some feeding her, some monitoring her. A mask covered her face. She can’t breathe on her own… Bandages covered her arms and upper chest. How many times was she sliced by glass? Was that what that was about? Nala felt woozy as she stood in the doorway.
Then she felt absolutely awful, because curled up on the side of the bed was Lucian, hand gripping his girlfriend’s as the blanket beneath his face was constantly bathed in fresh slews of tears.
“Nala!”
Vincent sat in a waiting area not too far away. He stood up, jacket and tie off and in a crumpled pile in a seat behind him. For being so put together that morning when he left for work, he now looked so disheveled that Nala barely recognized him.
Indeed, she barely knew the man grabbing her arms and shaking her where she stood.
“What are you doing?” Vincent was crazed, his voice growling, hissing, sending ripples of anything but pleasure through Nala. “You don’t leave my side. You don’t wander off. You don’t disappear from my line of sight. Do you understand me?”
He sounded like a frazzled father who had let go of his daughter’s hand in the middle of a fair. Now that she had returned, Nala felt like that ten-year-old again. Only this time her sister wasn’t there to make her feel better.
Vincent didn’t wait for her to respond. He pulled her into his embrace, holding her head close to his chest and wrapping his arms so tightly around her that she forgot how to breathe. “I can’t lose you too, Nala. You’ve gotta understand. I can’t lose you too.”
Nala lifted her arms and let her hands rest on his elbows. “I’m sorry. Is Robin okay?”
Vincent broke away from her enough to look into her eyes. “She’s alive. That’s all that matters. Because they intended to kill her.”
Do I tell him about the note? As far as Nala knew, Vincent hadn’t seen it. He was much too busy giving Robin CPR and yelling at Nala to get her head screwed back on and call 911.
So much had happened in so little time. The police came, cordoning off Vincent’s living room and asking them a thousand questions they couldn’t answer. Why was Robin there? How did they know her? What was her name? What had happened to her? The only reason neither Vincent nor Nala were currently in holding was because of Vincent’s standing.
Nala fell back into his embrace. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to be held.
“Vincent.”
Lucian stood in the doorway. If Nala didn’t know better, she would say the man was drunk. His eyes were swollen. His cheeks pink. His staggering so erratic that he could barely keep himself standing straight.
“She’ll be okay, Lucian.”
“What if she’s not?” Instead of letting his tears fall in front of them, Lucian slapped the doorway, rousing the attention of a nurse down the hall. “You heard the doctor. She’ll be lucky to get through the night.”
“She will.”
“How do you fucking know?” Now the nurse was jogging, summoned by the loud voice. “What was she doing in your house anyway? What were you doing with Clara?”
Nala knew that look on Vincent’s face. “We could ask you the same thing, but we won’t.” “We found her there, Lucian. We’ve got questions too, but now is not the time to be searching for answers.” That was a big fat lie.
But it placated Lucian enough to send him back into Robin’s room, where he slumped into his seat. The last thing Nala heard before disengaging from Vincent was, “Your parents are coming, honey. Hold tight. Your mama wants to see you and I know you want to see her.”
Nala wiped something from her eye as she insisted she go to the bathroom by herself. Since it was within Vincent’s sight, he let her go, and Nala was so, so relieved to duck in there and claw at her own face in private.
Tasha died alone. She was all alone. Desirée died screaming…
She pulled the note out of her pocket, staring at those damning words again and again. Poor Tasha. Poor Desirée. Poor Robin.
Poor Nala.
“Vincent…” She couldn’t let him see those words. Not now. Not ever. Nala had half a mind to throw the note away, but she carefully folded it back up and put it in her pocket. She washed off her face, straightened out her half-soiled sweatshirt, pulled back her hair into a neat ponytail, and stepped back into the hospital.
A crowd of people ambled by. Family members visiting Robin’s neighbor. They carried balloons, flowers, teddy bears, and half a dozen children of varying ages. This surge of pedestrians trapped Nala against the wall, and blocked her off from Vincent, whom she could vaguely see still sitting in the waiting room a good pace away.
Nala turned her head and saw someone else.
She was almost hard to recognize without her bold, glittery makeup and sequin dresses. Yet the hair – or lack of it – was unmistakable, as well as her dark skin in a sea of Scandinavian descendants wandering this way and that. She may have worn dark wash jeans and a light denim jacket, but Maggie always had the same stern expression no matter where she went.
Nala sucked in her breath. Yes, the most concerning member of The Aviary was definitely standing a few feet away, looking right at her frequent object of apparent disdain.
“Gale,” Maggie said softly, hoisting a cloth tote bag on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. Robin’s a nice person and doesn’t deserve this.”
Nala wanted to say that nobody deserved anything Crow ordered, but that was neither here nor there. “Thanks.”
Maggie pulled one strap of her tote bag off her shoulder and fished out a large manila envelope. “I wanted to give this to you. Don’t open it here, and don’t show it to Vincent unless you’re sure about it.”
“What is it?” Nala snatched it anyway. It’s not heavy. Papers, surely.
“No, not here. You might wanna have a drink before taking a peek, though.”
That did not inspire any confidence.
“Is it you?” Nala finally whispered, the people behind her still clogging up the hallway with their balloons and laughter. “Are you the one who sent me that mail?”
Maggie rearranged her bag and pulled a pair of sunglasses onto her face. “His reach is far and unyielding. Don’t trust anyone, especially in The Aviary. There’s a stinking rat in there who answers directly to Crow. He’s on to you. They’re all on to you. They know who you are and will either want you to play along like a good little birdie or…”
She didn’t have to finish her sentence.
“If you know all that, then surely you know who I am too.”
Maggie was not good at smiling as a way to relieve people of their worries. Yet she tried, her forced grin not doing much to make Nala feel better. Especially when she said, “Yes, Nala. I know who you are and what that man has done to you. I know what he’s done to Vincent as well.”
“Who are you?”
“Someone who is well aware of the danger that permeates wherever Xavier Crow goes. He’s a textbook sociopath. He plays with toys until they break or he has to throw them away. If they have too much information… well, there are ways.”
“They were sending me a message through Robin.”
“Yes.”
Nala shook her head. “What does he want me to do, then? Run away, scared for my life?”
“Yes.”
“And what about you? Has he done something to you?”
Now Maggie frowned, her body turning away from Nala. “Just know that you’re not the only one searching for justice.” She turned back around after hitting the elevator button. “This conversation never, ever happened.”
“Of course not.”
Maggie disappeared into the first elevator that popped up. She did not wave goodbye.
Nala stuffed the manila envelope beneath her sweatshirt before going back to Vincent. Not once between their stay at the hospital and heading out to his car did she bring up Maggie, the envelope, or the assassin’s note. She was still trying to process it all.