11
The only thing that had stopped Malcolm from kicking and screaming all the way to the station was the knowledge that if he did he’d be made to look like the one in the wrong here. And so he’d gone quietly even as they’d put him on a train to Edinburgh and shoved a print out of details of a hotel in his pocket. He couldn’t quite believe what had just happened, couldn’t believe Grey had known but had still done it.
She was dead now.
His jaw clenched at the thought. That bastard had killed her for doing what he’d asked and he wasn’t even sorry. He hadn’t even batted an eyelid when he’d given the order. For someone that talked so much about saving people’s lives he didn’t seem to care much about killing people for his own cause.
He couldn’t quite believe it was real. He could still feel her scratch marks on his back, could still hear her voice in his mind. Fuck. he could still see that shaky smile when he’d made her come. every time he closed his eyes. He kept his eyes closed now, as the train rattled on away from London. If he opened them he wasn’t convinced there wouldn’t be tears in his eyes. She was dead and no one would mourn her apart from him. She wouldn’t get a funeral. He didn’t even know if she had a family, but she must, mustn’t she? They wouldn’t know what had happened to her, not until Rook bothered to make up some story to tell them and Malcolm doubted he’d bother.
And now here he was, on his way to Edinburgh to keep him out of the way for a while, to stop him getting payback probably, because he wanted to, he wanted to tear Rook apart with his bare hands, but he’d probably be expecting that. No he’d bide his time. wait until Rook thought he was long gone, until he’d forgotten all about them, and he was sure he would. that none of this would linger in his mind any longer than any of the other terrible things he’d done. A few months maybe and then Malcolm would work something out, call a few people, make Rook pay for what he’d done to Grey.
Grey woke up gasping for air.
She was alive.
She had no idea where she was, but she was alive.
And naked.
And bleeding.
Her stomach lurched violently as she coughed and began to vomit up chunks of flesh. rolling onto her side so she wouldn’t choke on it. Forcing herself to sit up she continued to throw up. Her vomit was red with blood and gore, and when she thought she’d finished she noticed something in the mess that looked like an eyeball and began the whole process again, clutching her stomach as she scrabbled away so she wouldn’t see it again.
Resting back against a tree a few feet away she began to cry. She was alive, and she was a murderer. She could still taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth and what she’d just seen, what she’d just thrown up... she retched again at the very thought. She wasn’t supposed to be alive, that had been part of the plan, the only reason she’d agreed to it because she’d known she wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences, whatever lies Rook had told her. Why would he ever have left her alive? It had been the perfect opportunity to get rid of her, hadn’t it?
And yes here she was.
For the first time since she’d woken up she glanced down at her body. It was covered in lots of cuts, some tiny, but some large and bleeding. For a moment Grey considered just staying where she was, letting the lose of blood and exposure take care of her, but she couldn’t. She had to keep going. She had nothing, but it seemed like the wolf had escaped, saved her life, jumped through a window by the looks of it. There hadn’t been a window in the storeroom, she remembered that much, but the rest of the hall had been full of windows, huge ones meant to let the light in so you didn’t waste electricity. Had Rook seriously not thought about that? Not considered for one fucking moment how easy it would be to break and leap out of a window, hell even as she usually was she doubted it would have been that difficult, but as the wolf...it would have been easy. “Fucking amateur,” she hissed, closing her eyes as she tried to work out what to do. First she needed clothes, then something to get the glass out of the wounds. The wolf would take care of them, heal her before anything could go too badly wrong.. She didn’t need medical attention. That was something at least.
Grey had stolen a dress from the first washing line she’d seen. It wasn’t really her style, but luckily it was black and floaty. It would hide the blood stains and not press against the wounds, and it was a fuck of a lot better than being naked.
Dressed but still bare foot Grey locked herself in a disabled toilet cubicle with a pair of tweezers she’d stolen from a chemist. It was clean, which was good, though Grey didn’t have to worry about infections as much anymore. She hadn’t got so much as a cold since Lex had scratched her. Facing the mirror in the cubicle Grey took off the dress and stood in front of it, biting her lip as she pulled out the shards of glass and dropped the in the bin. It hurt like hell, a burning pain that brought tears to her eyes, but what else could she do? Maybe eventually her body would just push them out, or maybe she’d just heal around the shards, which would be agony, constant agony rather than the quick shock of it now.
Slipping her dress back on she washed her face quickly, attempting to look slightly more human than she felt. She still looked like shit, of course, her hair a mess and her feet bare. Getting money was going to be difficult. She had no idea if Rook had any clue she’d got away or not, but if he did he’d be keeping an eye out for her, watching for withdrawals from her bank account that kind of thing.
Begging and stealing it was then.
Fucking brilliant!
Malcolm was still in Edinburgh when his phone beeped for the first time.
It had been two weeks, two fucking weeks since Rook had told them to set the fire like it was nothing. He hadn’t heard a peep out of him, so he had no idea if Grey’s sacrifice had even counted for anything, and really he didn’t want to know. What fucking difference did it make now? Grey was dead, and he hadn’t even tried to keep it together. What was the fucking point?
You still alive? G x
It took him a few moments to register the sound of his mobile phone through the haze of whiskey and valium. Not that it seemed to be helping with anything, though in truth he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted it to do. Blot out the memories of the fire, help him sleep without nightmares, kill him? He wasn’t sure he cared much either way. Considering they’d supposedly won he really didn’t feel very good about it. When he read the message he was sure it was a sick joke and he threw the phone across the room with a moan.
Please Malcolm if you’re alive for fuck’s sake reply or I’m going after Rook. G x
Five minutes later he finally retrieved the phone. He still didn’t believe it was her. It had to be a trick by Rook, trying to smoke him out so he’d go and meet him and then that would be it - a bullet to the head, or perhaps something much more innocent looking. Something that looked like an accident or suicide. People would believe that he was sure, because really how much did he have to live for?
Prove you’re her
Is this a very weird prelude to sexting? G x
Prove it
How? Anyway it doesn’t matter now. You’re alive. I just wanted to make sure. G x
It matters to me.
The scar on my chest
DoDD have fucking PHOTOS of that. Try again
You traced it with your fingertips and then your tongue in the hotel room before we spent the whole night shagging?.
Grey? Where are you? How did you get out? He thinks you’re dead.
I can’t tell you. I just wanted to make sure he hadn’t done anything.
Fucking tell me!
It’s better for you if you don’t know. I always knew I was never gonna see you again. I’d just hoped I might get to say goodbye properly.
I don’t give a fuck about what’s better for me. Tell me where the fuck you are!
He’s probably watching you. You’re gonna get us both killed. G x
He doesn’t give a fuck about me anymore. If I say anything he’ll leak my medical records. Anything I say he’ll make look like the rantings of a mad man. Where are you, Grey?
Fine. But if he follows you and kills us both I’m gonna be really fucking pissed off with you. I’m in Glasgow. I like the accent. G x
I’m on my way.
Please don’t.
Too late darling.
She was dead now.
His jaw clenched at the thought. That bastard had killed her for doing what he’d asked and he wasn’t even sorry. He hadn’t even batted an eyelid when he’d given the order. For someone that talked so much about saving people’s lives he didn’t seem to care much about killing people for his own cause.
He couldn’t quite believe it was real. He could still feel her scratch marks on his back, could still hear her voice in his mind. Fuck. he could still see that shaky smile when he’d made her come. every time he closed his eyes. He kept his eyes closed now, as the train rattled on away from London. If he opened them he wasn’t convinced there wouldn’t be tears in his eyes. She was dead and no one would mourn her apart from him. She wouldn’t get a funeral. He didn’t even know if she had a family, but she must, mustn’t she? They wouldn’t know what had happened to her, not until Rook bothered to make up some story to tell them and Malcolm doubted he’d bother.
And now here he was, on his way to Edinburgh to keep him out of the way for a while, to stop him getting payback probably, because he wanted to, he wanted to tear Rook apart with his bare hands, but he’d probably be expecting that. No he’d bide his time. wait until Rook thought he was long gone, until he’d forgotten all about them, and he was sure he would. that none of this would linger in his mind any longer than any of the other terrible things he’d done. A few months maybe and then Malcolm would work something out, call a few people, make Rook pay for what he’d done to Grey.
Grey woke up gasping for air.
She was alive.
She had no idea where she was, but she was alive.
And naked.
And bleeding.
Her stomach lurched violently as she coughed and began to vomit up chunks of flesh. rolling onto her side so she wouldn’t choke on it. Forcing herself to sit up she continued to throw up. Her vomit was red with blood and gore, and when she thought she’d finished she noticed something in the mess that looked like an eyeball and began the whole process again, clutching her stomach as she scrabbled away so she wouldn’t see it again.
Resting back against a tree a few feet away she began to cry. She was alive, and she was a murderer. She could still taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth and what she’d just seen, what she’d just thrown up... she retched again at the very thought. She wasn’t supposed to be alive, that had been part of the plan, the only reason she’d agreed to it because she’d known she wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences, whatever lies Rook had told her. Why would he ever have left her alive? It had been the perfect opportunity to get rid of her, hadn’t it?
And yes here she was.
For the first time since she’d woken up she glanced down at her body. It was covered in lots of cuts, some tiny, but some large and bleeding. For a moment Grey considered just staying where she was, letting the lose of blood and exposure take care of her, but she couldn’t. She had to keep going. She had nothing, but it seemed like the wolf had escaped, saved her life, jumped through a window by the looks of it. There hadn’t been a window in the storeroom, she remembered that much, but the rest of the hall had been full of windows, huge ones meant to let the light in so you didn’t waste electricity. Had Rook seriously not thought about that? Not considered for one fucking moment how easy it would be to break and leap out of a window, hell even as she usually was she doubted it would have been that difficult, but as the wolf...it would have been easy. “Fucking amateur,” she hissed, closing her eyes as she tried to work out what to do. First she needed clothes, then something to get the glass out of the wounds. The wolf would take care of them, heal her before anything could go too badly wrong.. She didn’t need medical attention. That was something at least.
Grey had stolen a dress from the first washing line she’d seen. It wasn’t really her style, but luckily it was black and floaty. It would hide the blood stains and not press against the wounds, and it was a fuck of a lot better than being naked.
Dressed but still bare foot Grey locked herself in a disabled toilet cubicle with a pair of tweezers she’d stolen from a chemist. It was clean, which was good, though Grey didn’t have to worry about infections as much anymore. She hadn’t got so much as a cold since Lex had scratched her. Facing the mirror in the cubicle Grey took off the dress and stood in front of it, biting her lip as she pulled out the shards of glass and dropped the in the bin. It hurt like hell, a burning pain that brought tears to her eyes, but what else could she do? Maybe eventually her body would just push them out, or maybe she’d just heal around the shards, which would be agony, constant agony rather than the quick shock of it now.
Slipping her dress back on she washed her face quickly, attempting to look slightly more human than she felt. She still looked like shit, of course, her hair a mess and her feet bare. Getting money was going to be difficult. She had no idea if Rook had any clue she’d got away or not, but if he did he’d be keeping an eye out for her, watching for withdrawals from her bank account that kind of thing.
Begging and stealing it was then.
Fucking brilliant!
Malcolm was still in Edinburgh when his phone beeped for the first time.
It had been two weeks, two fucking weeks since Rook had told them to set the fire like it was nothing. He hadn’t heard a peep out of him, so he had no idea if Grey’s sacrifice had even counted for anything, and really he didn’t want to know. What fucking difference did it make now? Grey was dead, and he hadn’t even tried to keep it together. What was the fucking point?
You still alive? G x
It took him a few moments to register the sound of his mobile phone through the haze of whiskey and valium. Not that it seemed to be helping with anything, though in truth he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted it to do. Blot out the memories of the fire, help him sleep without nightmares, kill him? He wasn’t sure he cared much either way. Considering they’d supposedly won he really didn’t feel very good about it. When he read the message he was sure it was a sick joke and he threw the phone across the room with a moan.
Please Malcolm if you’re alive for fuck’s sake reply or I’m going after Rook. G x
Five minutes later he finally retrieved the phone. He still didn’t believe it was her. It had to be a trick by Rook, trying to smoke him out so he’d go and meet him and then that would be it - a bullet to the head, or perhaps something much more innocent looking. Something that looked like an accident or suicide. People would believe that he was sure, because really how much did he have to live for?
Prove you’re her
Is this a very weird prelude to sexting? G x
Prove it
How? Anyway it doesn’t matter now. You’re alive. I just wanted to make sure. G x
It matters to me.
The scar on my chest
DoDD have fucking PHOTOS of that. Try again
You traced it with your fingertips and then your tongue in the hotel room before we spent the whole night shagging?.
Grey? Where are you? How did you get out? He thinks you’re dead.
I can’t tell you. I just wanted to make sure he hadn’t done anything.
Fucking tell me!
It’s better for you if you don’t know. I always knew I was never gonna see you again. I’d just hoped I might get to say goodbye properly.
I don’t give a fuck about what’s better for me. Tell me where the fuck you are!
He’s probably watching you. You’re gonna get us both killed. G x
He doesn’t give a fuck about me anymore. If I say anything he’ll leak my medical records. Anything I say he’ll make look like the rantings of a mad man. Where are you, Grey?
Fine. But if he follows you and kills us both I’m gonna be really fucking pissed off with you. I’m in Glasgow. I like the accent. G x
I’m on my way.
Please don’t.
Too late darling.