I Am the Wild (The Night Firm #1)- Karpov Kinrade Page 0,14
face covered by her hair, the flames dancing off her pale skin, moving around her. She controls the flames, sending them forward. Sending them into me in a flash of heat and searing pain.
My heart slams against my ribs as I wake with a start, gasping for breath, clutching my chest.
I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying my dream. It felt so real. So visceral. Like I was standing in the clearing with her. I could feel the heat of the flames, the splash of the water from the stream. I could smell the wood burning and the mulch from the forest. I could feel her power flowing in and around me.
My breathing slows and I check the time. It's not even seven in the morning yet, but I know I won't be getting anymore sleep.
I slide out of bed and am about to head to the shower, but I decide to take a run instead, despite my hangover, either from the bottle of wine or the headache, likely both. Still, it's been too long since I worked out. I need this.
On my way out the door, I pause outside my brother's room and take a deep breath. Some days are easier than others. All days are hard. I push it away most of the time, but when I'm home, I allow myself a moment to our memories. Just a moment.
Then I leave the building and begin running.
With music blasting in my ear, and the pounding of the pavement under my feet, I don't pay too much attention to where I'm going, so I'm a little surprised when I end up at The Night Firm.
But I'm not nearly as surprised as when I poke my head in and see it's empty. Not just no one at the front desk, but totally empty. No sign. No furniture. No cool zen decorations. No fountain overflowing.
I pull out my phone and call the office number. The creepy twin whose name I should probably learn answers. "The Night Firm."
"Derek, please, it's Eve."
She puts me on hold without a word. As usual. If I were them I'd put someone more personable up front as the first contact, but that's just me.
"Derek Night here," he says in a distracted voice.
"Hi, it's Eve," I say. "I'm um. I'm confused."
"About what, Eve?"
"I'm at the office, only The Night Firm no longer exists here. Is this some kind of scam?" I ask.
"How could this be a scam?" he asks. "I've sent you money. Isn't a scam usually the other way around?"
He's got a point there.
"So you relocated in the few hours I slept?" I ask. "How's that even possible?"
"With the right motivation, anything is possible."
I don't know what to say in response to that.
"And we did make clear that this job was live-in and involved travel. We go where our clients need us."
"That's a highly unusual way for a law firm to do business," I say, which is honestly the biggest understatement in the history of understatements.
"We are a highly unusual firm, Miss Oliver, as I'm sure you've noticed. But I am glad you called. The movers will be at your house in two hours. They should have everything done by noon."
That seems unlikely, but I don't say as much. After all, anything is possible according to this guy.
We end the call, and I run back to my apartment and shower before the movers arrive.
If they really are on their way, I need to hurry.
I pause in front of my brother's room, my hand resting on the cool, metal doorknob. I haven't entered his room since the day he died. I know that sounds foolish, but it's like Schrödinger's cat. There's a box with a cat in it, and the cat has an equal chance of being alive or dead. But once you open the box, it's over, the truth staring at you. As long as I keep the door closed, I can pretend my brother yet lives. At least in my own mind. Once I open the door and face the emptiness, it'll be over.
Still.
It's time.
I twist the knob and close my eyes, then push the door open.
His scent—cinnamon and honey—hits me first, and it shocks me so much I crumble to my knees with a whimper. It's as if he was just here. How is that possible?
I open my eyes and see that the room is empty, as expected. It looks exactly as it did when he was alive, minus the hospital bed we