Had to be another Segue place.
Custo closed the outer door behind him and moved to the panel next to the elevator, inputting another code. A deep click, and the doors hissed open.
More bullet holes. She wasn’t getting in there. “I think I could maybe manage the stairs.”
Custo boarded. “Thirty flights?”
A long muscle in Annabella’s neck, one that had been nagging her since last night’s performance, chose that moment to twinge. Her feet, even out of her heels, would protest each step.
“We’re not staying here. I just need to stop in real quick,” he explained. The raspy tone of his voice did little to put her at ease. “I’d leave you down here if I could.”
But she couldn’t be alone. Only Custo kept the wolf at bay, and he was clearly going up.
“Okay.” Holding her breath so as not to inhale any more violence, she stepped inside the metal box. Not like she had a choice or anything.
Her stomach dropped as the elevator lifted. Her lungs were screaming for air when they reached the top and the doors opened directly into a large, open space. She lurched out and took a shuddering breath of cold, stale air.
Custo’s hand at her shoulder steadied her. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I didn’t think…We can go.”
She wasn’t getting back in that elevator anytime soon. “No. Just do what you need to do.”
Although, now looking around, she couldn’t imagine why they’d come. The space was empty, scarred. No windows. The wood floor might have been beautiful once, and to her left, a stainless kitchen countertop seemed intact, a sink spout arching up. This was one of those trendy loft homes. Big and slick, worth millions. It only lacked natural light and a view.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Adam’s loft. Seems like he hasn’t been here in a while.” Custo looked around. “A couple years ago it was pretty nice. I guess he covered over the windows.”
So there had been some. Without them, the place was too still, frightening. Way too many shadows. This better be worth it. “Why are we here?”
Custo walked to the center of the space. He cleared his throat, but the words came out tight. “I don’t know. I wanted to see…”
Across the room, Annabella could feel his mounting tension.
Custo rolled his shoulders. “What with seeing him again…”
Annabella couldn’t read minds. He’d have to spit it out before she understood what the hell he was talking about.
He turned toward her, eyes haunted. “I had to see the place where I died.”
Wolf ran through the darkness of the night. His body stretched along shadowy planes, dissolving and reforming with each bounding leap. The air was sharp with cold, sweet with promise. He drove the wind, growling like thunder toward his quarry.
How human that the snare he would set was in the opposite direction of the woman he craved.
A tug in his awareness. There!
He prowled to a stop and peered across the darkness at his weak and unsuspecting prey. Lights glimmered within a structure, but they had no power to harm him.
He reached his nose to the sky and howled.
Chapter Sixteen
GOING to the loft was part knee-jerk reaction, part morbid curiosity. Okay, a whole lot of morbid curiosity. Once the address had left Custo’s tongue, a sick tug in his chest demanded that he revisit the place, the moment he’d lost himself.
Meeting his father unexpectedly, being privy to his thoughts—something snapped inside him. His father was his beginning, and Adam’s loft was his end.
Custo and Adam had held many strategy meetings here during those years when the wraith threat was growing from a pressing concern to imminent global menace. The creatures couldn’t die; the only viable front to fight them had been through research. Hence, the careful founding of The Segue Institute. The search for Dr. Talia O’Brien, a specialist in near-death experiences. The discovery of her personal connection to Shadowman, aka Death. The rapid escalation to full wraith assault once her existence became widespread knowledge. The flight from the main facility in West Virginia. His capture and…
“You died here?” Annabella’s already pale face turned ashen. She took a step back toward the bullet-riddled elevator, then stumbled away from the scars of violence, and wrapped her arms around herself uncertainly.
“I was caught by a bastard who sided with the wraiths.” Bastard. Poor choice of words. “Spencer,” Custo amended. “Bad timing, bad luck. Bad life.”
A visible chill racked her body. Yeah, it was damn cold in here. Dead cold.
Bringing her here was cruel, but for some reason he needed her to see it. Everything else in his life had been borrowed or owed, but his death was his. He’d faced it alone, the one true thing he’d done with his life. A moment, a decision, without regret. Adam and Talia were worth it.