Read Online Head Above Water (Gemini: A Black Dog #2) by Hailey Edwards - Free Book Online
Authors: Hailey Edwards
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feebler. A final shake of her head was as good as a confession. There was no panic to rush in and help, only grim acceptance and stone-cold resolve not to interfere. She had known this was happening, and she hadn’t told me. For her to be so calm, Graeson must have known what he was walking into and prepared her for what might spill over the bond. No wonder she had jumped right in and distracted me with practice.
As the outsider, viewing the spectacle without being able to sift through Graeson’s head to find a reason for this calculated brutality, I tired of the scene quickly. The precise cruelty of his attacks disabled his opponents—or was that victims?—and watching him embrace his role as beta soured my stomach. I had seen enough.
Turning on my heel, I picked my way back home, not caring if Dell followed.
Isaac leaned against my trailer, sharpening a pocketknife against a whetstone, and glanced behind me with a frown pinching his brow when I returned alone. “Well?”
“I’m turning in early.” I breezed past him before he got a chance to respond. “Night.”
Slumping against the door, I locked myself inside, just like Graeson had wanted.
Chapter 6
A short buzz caused my phone to vibrate across the table, and the incoming notification made me hesitate with my spoon halfway to my mouth. I hadn’t seen Graeson all morning, and I hadn’t gone to the door when Dell knocked thirty minutes ago. Not to be deterred, she’d plopped on the steps to wait me out or play sentry. I didn’t care either way. But seeing as how wargs aren’t keen on technology, I caved to impulse and unlocked my cell.
A text from an unfamiliar number lit up the screen, a quick promise to discuss the surveillance footage after the unknown sender slept off the nightshift.
Thierry. It had to be.
The promise of an eight-hour delay made me twitchy. The footage was the only promising angle I had uncovered. The marshal onscreen had answers. She must. The other feelers I had sent out had been met with dead air, and a creeping suspicion made me question if Vause was directly involved in the radio silence. It wouldn’t surprise me. Being the pet project of a powerful magistrate came with strings attached. One wrong move and those slender filaments became the garrote that strangled you.
Setting the phone on the table, I resumed the eating of my breakfast, half wishing Aunt Dot would misplace her reading glasses or her paperback, anything to warrant a quick visit. But she rose with the sun each day. No exceptions. By the time I had climbed out of bed, she and Isaac had already eaten and returned to their respective trailers. Her to watch soaps. Him to resume tapping away at his keyboard.
Tempted as I was to seek out their company, I didn’t want to explain my bleak mood last night to Isaac, and I didn’t want to go another round with him either. Not when it meant borrowing from Dell and giving her—and Graeson—access to my headspace.
Writing off my soggy flakes as a lost cause, I dumped them in the trash then washed and dried my bowl before trudging back to bed. I sat on the edge of the mattress, arm extended, about to watch the Charybdis video for the one hundred and second time, when a knock on the door saved my eyeballs from the repetitive strain.
Still dressed in my sleep shorts and tank top, I opened the door without checking to see who had arrived, figuring if it was anyone or anything dangerous, Dell would have taken care of them. Except there was no Dell. The steps had been vacated, and the yard stood quiet and empty. Drawn by a flash of color, my gaze dipped. A scrunchie sat in the dead center of the top step, its edges fluffed and then smoothed. Rose fabric with lemon dots and gold threads that caught the sun. Had someone pulled down a ponytail, the tie would be bunched up with a few strands of hair stuck in for good measure. This wasn’t that random. It had been neatly arranged, almost like a presentation. Almost like a
As the outsider, viewing the spectacle without being able to sift through Graeson’s head to find a reason for this calculated brutality, I tired of the scene quickly. The precise cruelty of his attacks disabled his opponents—or was that victims?—and watching him embrace his role as beta soured my stomach. I had seen enough.
Turning on my heel, I picked my way back home, not caring if Dell followed.
Isaac leaned against my trailer, sharpening a pocketknife against a whetstone, and glanced behind me with a frown pinching his brow when I returned alone. “Well?”
“I’m turning in early.” I breezed past him before he got a chance to respond. “Night.”
Slumping against the door, I locked myself inside, just like Graeson had wanted.
Chapter 6
A short buzz caused my phone to vibrate across the table, and the incoming notification made me hesitate with my spoon halfway to my mouth. I hadn’t seen Graeson all morning, and I hadn’t gone to the door when Dell knocked thirty minutes ago. Not to be deterred, she’d plopped on the steps to wait me out or play sentry. I didn’t care either way. But seeing as how wargs aren’t keen on technology, I caved to impulse and unlocked my cell.
A text from an unfamiliar number lit up the screen, a quick promise to discuss the surveillance footage after the unknown sender slept off the nightshift.
Thierry. It had to be.
The promise of an eight-hour delay made me twitchy. The footage was the only promising angle I had uncovered. The marshal onscreen had answers. She must. The other feelers I had sent out had been met with dead air, and a creeping suspicion made me question if Vause was directly involved in the radio silence. It wouldn’t surprise me. Being the pet project of a powerful magistrate came with strings attached. One wrong move and those slender filaments became the garrote that strangled you.
Setting the phone on the table, I resumed the eating of my breakfast, half wishing Aunt Dot would misplace her reading glasses or her paperback, anything to warrant a quick visit. But she rose with the sun each day. No exceptions. By the time I had climbed out of bed, she and Isaac had already eaten and returned to their respective trailers. Her to watch soaps. Him to resume tapping away at his keyboard.
Tempted as I was to seek out their company, I didn’t want to explain my bleak mood last night to Isaac, and I didn’t want to go another round with him either. Not when it meant borrowing from Dell and giving her—and Graeson—access to my headspace.
Writing off my soggy flakes as a lost cause, I dumped them in the trash then washed and dried my bowl before trudging back to bed. I sat on the edge of the mattress, arm extended, about to watch the Charybdis video for the one hundred and second time, when a knock on the door saved my eyeballs from the repetitive strain.
Still dressed in my sleep shorts and tank top, I opened the door without checking to see who had arrived, figuring if it was anyone or anything dangerous, Dell would have taken care of them. Except there was no Dell. The steps had been vacated, and the yard stood quiet and empty. Drawn by a flash of color, my gaze dipped. A scrunchie sat in the dead center of the top step, its edges fluffed and then smoothed. Rose fabric with lemon dots and gold threads that caught the sun. Had someone pulled down a ponytail, the tie would be bunched up with a few strands of hair stuck in for good measure. This wasn’t that random. It had been neatly arranged, almost like a presentation. Almost like a
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