Eva was dusting the lower shelves of the library, trying to blend into the woodwork.
Alek sat behind the massive oak desk. Arthur stood in front of him, looking pale.
"Gone?" Alek asked. His voice was dangerously quiet.
"The facility called," Arthur reported. "Arvo used his credentials to sign out Miss Britt Bowen an hour ago. They're gone."
Alek was holding a fountain pen.
Snap.
The sound was sharp like a bone breaking.
Ink exploded over Alek's hand. Black liquid dripped down his fingers, staining the expensive leather desk pad.
"That useless..." Alek stood up. "He's going to destroy everything."
Eva paused in her dusting. The name Arvo hung in the air.
Alek's head snapped toward her. He had seen the hesitation.
"Out," he barked at Arthur.
Arthur fled.
Alek rounded the desk. He walked toward Eva. He held up his hand, the black ink glistening like oil.
"You Bowens," he said, looming over her. "You infect everything you touch."
Eva backed up until her spine hit the bookshelf. Books dug into her shoulder blades.
Alek reached out.
He placed his ink-stained hand on her cheek. He slid his thumb across her skin, leaving a thick, black smear.
Eva flinched, her eyes wide with horror. It felt like he was branding her.
"You're mine," he whispered. "Until every cent is paid. You don't get to run like your sister."
The intercom on his desk buzzed.
Alek stared at her for a second longer, then turned and pressed the button.
"Speak."
"Sir," Emory Chapman's voice filled the room. Cool. Detached. "I've located them. Motel 6 off the interstate."
Alek grabbed a rag and wiped his hand. "Send the team."
"There's a complication," Emory said. "Britt Bowen has been transported to St. Jude's. Overdose."
Alek froze.
If Britt died, the scrutiny on the families would be unbearable. The merger, the Senate seat, everything would collapse.
Alek threw the rag on the floor. He grabbed his coat.
He stopped next to Eva on his way out.
"Don't wash it off," he said, pointing to her face. "Wear it."
He slammed the door.
Eva slid down the bookshelf to the floor. She touched her cheek. The ink was wet, sticky.
She scrambled up and ran to the small bathroom attached to the library.
She turned on the tap and scrubbed. She used soap, then a rough sponge. She scrubbed until the black faded to gray, and the gray faded to angry red. She scrubbed until the skin broke and raw blood mixed with the water.
She wasn't just washing off ink. She was trying to wash off his ownership.
Knock, knock.
Eva jumped.
The door opened a crack. Felicity slipped a hand inside.
"For you," she whispered.
She dropped a folded piece of paper on the sink and vanished.
Eva picked it up with wet, trembling hands.
It was a small note.
Midnight. The West Terrace. - E
Eva stared at the letter E.
Emory.
