He started to leave the room, but I clicked my tongue to get his attention.
“Use mine,” I ordered, nodding to my bathroom. “I have extra stuff.”
“Thanks,” he said, stomping into my bathroom.
When he came out, he smelled a little like me. My fangs dropped in my mouth at the sight of his wet hair falling over his eyes and the way the black shirt was stretched over muscle, slightly damp as if he hadn’t dried off well enough. He settled into the bed, fully clothed and over the blankets as far from me as he could get.
This is my life now. Endless torture.
11
Chapter Eleven
It ended up with me staring at the ceiling for two hours instead of trying to get whatever sleep I could. It took an hour before I trusted Raphael was asleep. Another hour and I got out of the bed, my skin too hot from his radiating heat. I was anxious, exhausted, and strung out but unable to do anything. Between Raphael being in my bed, yet untouchable, and the incident I had just lived through, I couldn’t sleep. It was impossible, and it was too late to take anything to help the matter without risking missing an important phone call.
I can do something.
The thought struck me fast, and I couldn’t get past it. I crept out of my bedroom and to my office in the condo. It wasn’t like my office at home with The Board, but it would work. I had a corkboard up just in case I ever needed it, and tonight, I needed it.
Everyone always said I had the mind of an Investigator. I should have been doing Cassius’ job, but I liked the power and protection I was given as an Executioner. It let me go on the offensive where an Investigator had to keep their head down for the most part while they made their case. I could shoot first, ask questions later. Cassius couldn’t.
Tonight proved everyone was right. I got onto my laptop and started printing every picture I could find of key individuals. I requested access through email to the prison’s records, so I could use those later as well. As everything printed, I started pinning up pictures and articles to the corkboard, then wrote notes and stuck them on as well.
In the center, the prison breach. Everything radiated from it.
I found a picture of Eliphas and Kartane and put them up, writing out what I knew. They didn’t get along. Kartane attacked Eliphas. He wouldn’t be able to take the Warden position since Eliphas survived and could report it to the Tribunal through me, but Kartane was still dangerous.
Next, I put up Tarak and his current status: deceased. I put Korey next to him, writing ‘new Alpha’ on that notecard. Possible betrayal? I didn’t know and couldn’t assume, but I knew the thought would be in the back of my mind until this all settled down. If Kartane betrayed Eliphas, there was a case where Korey betrayed Tarak—a chance there was a coordinated effort to change the leadership. Why, I didn’t know. Being a Warden was a shit job.
Finally, I got to the fae, who were a can of worms unto themselves. Cassius and Sorcha, who I had wedding pictures with, were the only two people I hoped and prayed weren’t involved. Cassius, I was certain of, but I didn’t really know Sorcha, and that made her unpredictable. There was Dian, in the fae lands. His second was probably there as well since I had not seen the guy while I was there. I had seen fae guards, so the grunts weren’t in on this—hopefully.
I didn’t bother yet with the inmates I knew escaped. I wanted access to the prison for that. Instead, I put myself on next. I knew they wanted to kill me. Erline and Levi tried. Erline was dead, but knowing my luck, Levi would try again.
Finally, I put Raphael underneath me. I went back to the fae and put Ardghal, connecting them. Ardghal was my connection to Mygi, and I really hoped it wasn’t them. This was bold and stupid if it was too obvious. Everyone who was privy to the situation would look at them with suspicion.
I have no way of connecting Mygi and the prison. I’m sure I’ll find something sooner or later. There are dozens of people who would love to see me dead—time to get them on here.
I grabbed the next set of pictures that had finished printing. One was