I might have dismantled an actual black-market antiquities ring. It was a big fucking deal.
My truth, however, demanded to be liberated.
“Ms. Evandale, I need to look at your throat,” the paramedic was saying. And Abe was talking to the agents. And another agent was on the phone with the Bureau, confirming my badge number.
“I’ll stay with Freya,” Abe told me, with a look more knowing than I expected. “We’ll probably see you at the closest police station. Scarlett is shocked and thrilled that we have the letters. But they’ll need to be authenticated. And the story is going to be everywhere.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said. “Did we make all the wrong decisions? Make things messier?”
“Not at all,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “You made all the right decisions.”
I let out a massive sigh of gratitude. It had been years since I’d been told I’d done anything right at all.
“Special Agent Byrne?” That youngish-looking agent was extending a cell phone my way. “The Deputy Director of the FBI wants to speak with you?”
“I’ll take it, thank you,” I said, watching the paramedic as he examined Freya’s throat. Abe was talking to her softly, and whatever she was saying was making him and the paramedic laugh.
“Sir,” I said into the phone.
“Abraham informed me of tonight’s outcome.” My father’s clipped tone lacked all emotion. “I heard the retrieval was a success.”
“Yes, it was,” I said. I didn’t need to say more—he had staff members who’d relay all the pertinent details. I chewed on my next words carefully. “Thank you for the help and the resources. It was needed.”
“As discussed, I’ll expect you back in Virginia tomorrow,” he replied. “The hearing will be in the morning.”
I heard the clear, bell-like sound of Freya’s joy, and it had my chest constricting with yearning. I want more time.
“I’m sure some events from this evening will shake out through the Bureau and end up on your desk in Art Theft,” he said.
I watched Ward being hauled off in handcuffs. He looked furious. “Yes, sir, I believe they will.”
“Eleven a.m. will be your hearing decision,” my father said. “Please confirm you will be here.”
Freya had a small bandage on her throat but looked otherwise unharmed. She kept glancing at me shyly as she answered the medic’s questions. I couldn’t actually process what it had been like to watch Roy put a sharp object to her beautiful throat. Our simulations at Quantico were fake. There was no real danger.
This had been the first time I’d ever felt her life was at risk. And the resulting emotions were immeasurable.
Fury. Fear.
Passion. Yearning.
Nothing could have stopped me from protecting her in that moment. Not ten guards or one hundred. I was unstoppable.
“Samuel,” my father snapped. “I will see you tomorrow.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a barked command.
“I’ll try my hardest but can’t promise anything,” I said and ended the call. The phone rang again, and I handed it back to the young officer. “You can ignore it.”
I was escorted back through the basement, up the elevator, and out into a waiting squad car. I knew what was going to happen next—had conducted plenty of interviews myself—but I wanted Freya. Needed Freya. But as I glanced behind me one last time, the crowds of people converged in front of her and Abe.
And she vanished.
42
Freya
The clap of thunder rattled my windowpanes. Minerva hissed and bolted as lightning lit the angry-looking sky.
“Candles, check,” Delilah said. “Tea, check. Blankets, check.” She touched my chin, looked at the bandage on my throat. “Pain meds?”
“Not needed,” I said. “Honestly. It barely broke the skin.”
After Sam and I had both been questioned by federal agents at the police station—separately—Delilah had taken me home. It was well past midnight, and a vicious summer storm had landed over the city of Philadelphia. Rain pelted the windows, and I was grateful for candles and a cozy mountain of blankets. The adrenaline was starting to ebb, and I felt drowsy and punch-drunk.
She rubbed my arms through the blankets with a look of concern. “Frey.”
“Yeah?”
“I thought you were going to get hurt tonight,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done if that had happened.”
“Having you in my ear helped,” I said. “I knew you had my back. You always do. I trusted you to save me. And I trusted…” I swallowed hard. “I trusted Sam to save me.”
Her face softened with sympathy. “The connection the two of you have is practically tangible.”
I bit my lip but didn’t say