Page 102 of Shattered Veil
And my family doesn’t exactly look for Boy Scouts to work for us.
Assuming this is the same guy, I hack into Brennan’s employment records.
Yep.
Michael Wesley Brennan
And the address on Ella’s driver’s license matches his.
It’s the same guy.
“Fuck,” I roar and bang on the armrest to the bird. “Marcus, collect those damn ropes and get us the hell off this roof.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Ella
Val and Hannah are quiet as I stare out the windows of the apartment. I can’t avoid Balor forever. And I don’t want to. I just want a handle on whatIwant before stuttering and letting him decide for me.
My girls comforted me, but they haven’t really helped me figure anything out.
Ever since my abusive relationship, my thinking is often skewed by guilt and fear.
The few dates I went on in Sydney were for the sole purpose of pushing myself. I needed to not only sit with a man and not be afraid, but also test myself and not go along with whatever he suggested, whether it be the restaurant, the movie, a drink, or even going home with him.
Yet that all went out the window with Balor. A complete stranger. Who I somehow knew deep in my bones wouldn’t hurt me.
The only time Balor hurt me was when he left that hotel without saying goodbye. I’d known we’d part ways. Just not like that. Even then, he still had given me more than he ever knew. I left the hotel that day having reclaimed a piece of myself that Wes stole.
Hannah comes up behind me. “I know I’ve been giving you a hard time. But you should call him. Let him know where you are.”
“I will.” I want Balor in my life, but my traumatic past is controlling my thoughts and decisions.
The phone for the apartment chimes with a call from the guard’s desk below. I spin around and look at my friends, as they stare back at me with curious expressions.
“Did Balor reach out to either of you?” I point from Hannah to Val, ready to hand down sentences for being atraitor and giving him the green light to storm the castle.
No’ssound off around the living room.
“Hello?” I say into the wall-mounted phone.
“You have a floral delivery from a Mr. Maverick.”
I want to cry, remembering Shane called Balor by that cool code name. My rebel sent me flowers.
“You can send it up. Thank you.”
“It?” Val asks. “Send what up?”
“Flowers.” I shake my head, smiling. “The oldest trick in the book.”
One that Wes never once bothered with. He spewed hollow apologies and excuses that never meant anything.
A knock on the door a few minutes later makes me jump toward the foyer. I look through the peephole and see a man in a cap, holding a vase of flowers.
Already in the vase? I’ve seen teachers at Fredricks get flowers. They come in a box, or wrapped in brown paper, assembly required.
I open the door figuring the guards let him up, and also, my best friends are here.