chapter twenty-six

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"These city streets scream stories while we sleep."

—Painting Title, , East City Gallery of Modern Art


Upstairs in one of the Williams' guest rooms, Iris grabbed her bag from behind the door and dropped it onto the bed. Around the room, she collected her minuscule amount of items. Really, it wasn't much more than a t-shirt strung over the chair in the corner, a pair of dark sweatpants she'd left at the bottom of the bed, and her toothbrush, hairbrush, and deodorant from the bathroom.

Wylan knocked on the door frame as he entered.

Iris appreciated having his presence there. "What about all of your stuff?"

"I never unpacked," he told her, closing the door behind them. "I'm always ready to grab and go."

"Thad?"

"Is gathering his own stuff and readying the car," Wylan leaned against the wall.

It took her less than five minutes to stuff her personals into her backpack. If she were honest with herself, it was all items she could live without—things that, if she left them behind, it wouldn't cripple her. Whether Wylan knew that and still let her grab her things was unclear, but she appreciated it all the same. They were small, but they were the only bit of familiarity she had on this wild ride.

She focused on gathering her things. And then, all too soon, she was ready.

Zipping her bag closed, her feet stopped. That wall she'd been able to keep up while distracted came crashing down. It all flooded back in. Her parents, the news, the anxiety and panic waiting for her to drop her guard.

It was the anxiety that hurt the most. She felt like she couldn't quite catch her breath. As if the room had turned into a vacuum and slowly sucked the very air from the room.

"Hey, hey," Wylan's hand hovered near her arm. "Deep breaths for me."

Iris looked up at him. Whatever expression she had on her face had him pulling her close to him. He wrapped his arms around her.

Wylan smelled like leather with a whispering undertone of cologne. His warmth surrounded her. She knew it was not a good idea to get close to this agent, and yet...

And yet.

She found herself sinking into him. Something in her settled.

Wylan rubbed the top of her back. "You're fine."

She laughed humorlessly. "That doesn't help the anxiety so much, but I appreciate the effort to soothe."

Pulling back, she made herself take a deep breath. Power through it, Iris.

Wylan's hand hovered in the air in her direction. Slowly, he put it at his side. "You alright?"

She wasn't, but she had to be. She nodded.

"We need to get going," he said.

Picking up her backpack, she followed close behind him. "What will happen with the DNA match?" She asked as Wylan led her back down the stairs and out the door to a new car parked in front, this time a black SUV. It was running and Thad was already in the passenger seat.

"They'll come up with a match," Wylan said as they headed to the car, Wylan in front and her in the back seat.

The wind had picked up since earlier and now whipped her hair around her. It tugged at all the white and red flowers and short, full bushes around the professionally cultivated landscaping. The sun had escaped, tucking itself amongst the clouds and bringing more of a chill to the air.

Iris lobbed her bag into the back seat with her.

"Your go-bag is in the trunk," Thad told Wylan as they got in.

"Thanks."

Wylan flipped the car in gear before Iris even had her door closed all the way. She grunted as the car shifted under her.

"Ris, seatbelt," Wylan said.

Frowning at the nickname, she clicked herself in. "My parents?"

Wylan's gaze was intense as he glanced back at her through the rearview mirror. "Kit will have an update shortly. We'll know then."

She tried not to throw up as he peeled out from the Williams' home.

Her mind conjured up nothing but horrible images—her parents tied up in a warehouse, beaten and bloody, or, worse, cold as stone as they rested, unmoving, in a ditch on the side of the highway.

Think of something else. Anything else. "How could they possibly come up with a match if I'm right here?"

"Because the files will be digital," Wylan said. "And digital files can be hacked or altered."

"Can't Kit do something on her end?"

"She could try," Wylan said, "but if we alter documents, that makes us just as bad as them. And, unlike them, everything we do reflects on the Crown."

Iris swore.

"That about sums it up, LF," Thad said from the front seat.

Just a couple of hours ago, she'd been doing nothing more than reading articles in the Williams' study. If someone asked her right now, though, she had no proof herself of her own identity. Nothing more than fragments of memory swaddled in a blanket of trauma. That certainly wouldn't hold up in court.

Once, while working on an abstract piece, she did a bit of research on the brain. She'd been using an image of a neuro pathway as her base and looked into it a little in order to pull more out for the canvas. One article talked about the brain's ability to pick up on things that weren't real, and how memories were nothing but experiences pressed into different molds each time they were plucked out and recalled.

Was that... was that what was happening here?

Before she consciously thought about it, her mouth opened. "It's not true. Right?"

Thad made a noise somewhere between a grunt and whine. Wylan's gaze found her through the rearview mirror again. "Iris. You know it's not."

Did she though?

She had nothing. Not a single memory of the people who raised her before the Daniels. Even now, when she tried to pull something up, that ache flashed behind her eyes. It was still nothing more than a few snippets. But what was real, and what was something her mind conjured up?

"Iris."

She brought her attention back to Wylan in the front seat.

"Trust me."

Exhaling, she glanced back out the window. Wylan sped down through the gates of the community and headed back towards the small town they'd passed through when they arrived only a few days before. The back windows of the vehicle were dark tinted, which only made it seem more dreary out.

"What now?"

"We've got a contact on the other side of the Isle who's ready with a plane to bring us back to the mainland," Wylan said. "Once there, we get you directly over to Redlian."

As Wylan spoke, Thad picked up a small dark bag from under his seat. Swiftly, he opened the zipper and rooted through the contents. The cold, quiet sound of dense metal on metal filled the space. Something slid into place with a shink, then a snap.

"What about my parents?" Iris asked.

Thad and Wylan shared a look.

"I'm sorry, LF, but in this case, you're our priority."

She didn't want to be anyone's priority. Not if it meant less attention would be on her parents.

She put her head against the hard glass of the window next to her. The emotions bubbled at the back of her throat. She battled them down. Later, she could let it all out. Later, she could work through the stress of it all. Right now, none of that would do her any good.

A phone vibrated. Wylan leaned back and lifted to grab his cell from his back pocket. He hit a button, then rested it against a flat section of the top of the dashboard. "Go, Kit."

"Are you sure?"

Wylan didn't even look at Iris. "Yes."

She liked that he automatically trusted her to be a part of the conversation and let her get her information straight from the source, rather than middle-manning it or playing games.

"Agent Traey's phone, go bag, and weapon was recovered," Kit said, somber. "We have not yet recovered a body, but from the condition of his last known whereabouts, I have to presume he's... no longer returning to duty."

"It's not over until a body shows up," Thad said. "Do you have a team working to confirm?"

"Yes. I've also got a flag for anything the police find and register in their system. My contact is digging on his side as well."

Iris frowned. Didn't Wylan say once that there were moles in the police? Though, she supposed they had to have a few contacts loyal to the Crown.

The small town they'd passed on their way in was alive and bustling as they drove through. Little clumps of shoppers strolled along the Main Street, chatting and laughing as they enjoyed their afternoon. The sun had only begun to set, however tiny strands of lights lit up along the storefronts and hung from trees along the road.

Iris watched the scenery pass, just as she did before when they arrived, but this time, she looked without seeing. Dimly, in the back of her mind, she noted the street would be the perfect inspiration for a piece.

"My parents?" She asked Kit.

There was a pause. Unnaturally long for Kit.

"Kit, please."

"The agents that responded have indicated no sign of your parents or the team sent to watch over them."

Wiping her hands on her jeans, despite her gloves, Iris swallowed past the constriction that appeared in her throat. "Is that a good sign?"

Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer, but hope forced her to ask anyway.

Somehow, she could feel the weight of Wylan's gaze on her through the rearview mirror. Irritated at her own emotionality and the building pressure behind her eyes, she snapped at him. "Drive, Wylan."

Thad whistled low.

"It's not the worst sign or outcome," Kit said rather softly. "But I'd much rather know their whereabouts and safety."

A boulder appeared in her stomach. So that was it then. The team was doing everything they could to keep her parents safe, but it hadn't been enough. Now, they couldn't find them.

And she, even if she knew where they were at, wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Because really, what could she do? Paint them a picture?

Self-derision was a sour taste in the back of her throat. No. She just had to trust the professionals.

Iris wiped a gloved hand over her face.

"We'll find them," Wylan said.

"Wylan—" Thad shook his head.

"We will find them," Wylan said again. His jaw was tight—she could see even from her spot in the back of the car.

"Hang on, Wy, the Lieutenant's on the other line. Patching him in."

Kit disappeared. Then, "Wy?"

"Yeah?"

"Lieutenant?"

"Here," Reese confirmed over the line.

"You've got Wylan, Thad, and Iris here," Kit said. The click-click-click of a keyboard sounded in the back of Kit's line. How she could multitask at a time like this was beyond Iris. She felt like her brain was splintered and running in all different directions.

"Not that I don't trust my agents, but Miss Daniels, before I continue this call, please verbally verify your Acemark for me."

Iris blinked, heat climbing up her neck to her cheeks.

"It's alright, Iris," Wylan said as he turned them onto another street and checked his right side mirror for anyone potentially behind them. "It's just a precaution."

She opened her mouth, then hesitated.

Come on, Iris, what's more important, your pride or your safety?

"I–It's a wave, Sir."

"Where?"

Her face flamed.

For your parents, she told herself. She sucked in a breath.

"You don't need to know that to prove who she is," Wylan said. The turn signal ticked rhythmically as he flipped it on to switch lanes. "Nor is that important right now."

He was... protecting her?

It was such a small thing. But something in her shifted when she stared at the back of Wylan's head. "I'd rather not say, Sir."

"Hmm." Reese said, "my agents indicate that you've been painting some very astute pictures."

"Yes, Sir."

"You remember nothing?"

"No." Iris made herself sit up in her chair. "I can't prove I'm who Wylan and Thad say I am, other than with a DNA test, however both of your agents here are fairly confident in my identity. And frankly, I'm more worried about my parents who have gone missing than who I may or may not be."

There was a brief second of silence. Then, Reese said, "That's the correct attitude, Miss Daniels."

"Thank you?"

"Are you done?" Wylan asked his father. That tight jaw was back again.

Reese flipped subjects immediately. "Earlier today, a Juliette Wilson walked into a police station claiming to be the late Princess Driana. The Crown is aware of the situation. The PR team is working on damage control. In the meantime, we need to use this situation to our advantage and get Miss Daniels back to the Second Palace."

The Crown is aware of the situation. "Does he know about me?" Iris couldn't help but ask from the backseat.

"He does not," Reese said without missing a beat. "And he will not until you are here in his presence." Reese cleared his throat. "Which is why, Agent Garrick and Agent Thompson, I need you both to stay alert. Check in with Kit on the hour. Stay low, and signal for anything out of the ordinary."

Iris snorted, unable to help herself. This entire situation was out of the ordinary. Just how much further out of the ordinary did Reese mean?

"Get her home, agents," Reese said, then clicked off.

Home.

Was that where she was going?

As Wylan drove, Iris replayed Reese's conversation. The king didn't know about her yet. She tried to snuff out the twinge in her chest at that thought. What would his reaction be? Was he as nice as the media portrayed him?

Would he even care about her return?

Biting her lip, Iris glanced back out the window of the speeding car. There were other, more important things to focus on right now, not how she'd be received by her biological family.

And yet... as they made their way across the Isle, Iris' thoughts kept reverting to that conversation and replaying it over and over on loop.

She laid her head against the back of the leather seat behind her and watched as, outside, the wind pulled at the trees and the waves along the shore. 


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