Blind Hearts and Silenced Passion (7 page)

The woman approached Florent and pulled him aside. Remy
now noticed that a sizable crowd had gathered, watching with interest. He
hadn't even realized there were so many silencers here. Moon be blessed, what
had he been thinking?

Finally, the woman returned to his side and grabbed his
arm. No one spoke, and Florent had already turned on his heel and stalked away
in a huff.

The woman and her earlier companion took him into another
empty warehouse. He passed her a weapon—had he had it before? Remy couldn't
tell—and she took it in a way that suggested she'd done it many times in the
past.

As the man went to keep watch, she pointed the gun at him.
"Look at me."

Remy complied, grateful that he'd at least die with
dignity. He had the idle thought that he could still feel the remnants of material
on his claws, before his world turned into fire and darkness.

****

It had been the last thing Remy had seen for a long
time—Blanchefleur's face as she readied herself to deliver his punishment. He'd
tried so hard not to think of it, but perhaps in his heart, he'd known it might
come to this.

Steeling himself, Remy left the couch and headed back into
his bedroom. He carefully avoided looking at the bed and instead focused on the
painting on the wall.

It was an image of a howling wolf, its figure looking blurry
and surreal in the moonlight. The artist wasn't anyone Remy was familiar with,
but he'd always liked the painting, if only because it had been a gift from
Laurent.

He set the painting down, revealing the safe built into the
wall. The combination came easily to him, even if he hadn't opened it in a long
time. After all, how could he ever forget it? The numbers spelled out the date
when he'd lost his eyesight.

He was proud when his fingers didn't shake as he opened the
safe. He was even prouder than he didn't jump or yelp when Blanchefleur's voice
sounded right behind him. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"This." He wordlessly handed her the item, the once
piece of solid evidence he'd kept since that day.

It wasn't much, just a patch of leather that had covered the
strange silencer's chest, with something else hidden inside. Remy didn't know
why he'd originally kept it. He could barely remember those first few days,
when he'd gone through the five stages of mourning even if no one had actually died.
Later, though, he'd traced the odd item he had found countless times with his
fingers, trying to figure out what the symbol on the back of it meant.

The seal was strange, small and circular in size, but made
out of some sort of metal. The lines on it were a jumble—not a letter, not a
number or a figure. It almost reminded Remy of one of those mazes with
countless corridors that only ever led to dead ends. It seemed rusty at times,
but Remy had tried to clean it once or twice without success. Odder still, it
made no sense to wear something ornamental on the inside of a battle outfit, so
it had to be something ceremonial... But what? A memento of sorts? He had never
traced its meaning or origin, so he'd eventually pushed it to the back of his
mind.

Now that he'd given it to Blanchefleur, he wondered if she
could shed some light on the issue. He'd mostly believed that the seal was
related to the guild itself, but what if that wasn't the case?

He got at least part of his answer when his companion stared
blankly at the item. "What is this?"

"The only thing I have left from that day," Remy
replied.

She showed no sign of having heard him, since she was too
busy scowling at the engraving she'd finally noticed. "This is an odd
symbol." She hissed when she touched it. "It almost seems like
silver, despite all the rust."

"Does it?" Remy scanned the seal again, but he saw
nothing out of the ordinary. "It didn't feel like anything special to
me."

Blanchefleur stared at him. "You cannot be
serious."

To prove his words, Remy pressed his hand to the seal he
still held. It was a little uncomfortable to be in such close contact with
Blanchefleur, but it was worth it if only because he got to look at her
befuddled expression.

"I don't know what this means, Remy," she finally admitted.
"I've never seen such a thing before, and the way the metal reacts is
peculiar to say the least. We have to look into it more."

"I've tried that. No luck."

She smiled tightly, and a shadow crossed her face. "You
haven't tried it my way. Come on. We're late for a meeting."

Without further explanation, she dragged him out of the
apartment and into the underground parking lot of the building.

Chapter Five

Remy's pack was one of the strongest and most influential
ones in France. As such, its enforcers had access to a lot of things, including
CCTV feed and police reports. Normally, Baqir wouldn't have had to turn to
them, but his authority as a silencer had collapsed and because of it, his
sources for information had a lot of gaps.

Since he couldn't afford a lengthy investigation, Baqir
contacted the people who had the most incentive in keeping Remy safe—other than
him, of course. Sadly, the pack Alpha was still in Russia, and Baqir was
reluctant to call him there, in that pit of vipers where information was a free
for all. Worst still, the beta of Remy's pack had decided Baqir was lying, and
refused to help.

"If you think we'd trust a silencer with Remy's well
being," he had said, "you're highly mistaken."

Baqir had gritted his teeth in an attempt to contain his
rising temper. "He's missing. I'm simply worried."

His attempts to coax information out of the stubborn werewolf
had not worked, which left Baqir with very few options. His other resources and
the men in his employ could not help him. Hours passed while Baqir struggled to
track Remy through the insanely busy city, and as the feeling of helplessness
and impending doom increased, he realized he had no choice but to fall back on
his last plan.

There were few things that frightened Baqir, and fewer people
who could intimidate him. Dread came very close to it. He wasn't a big man. In
fact, he looked surprisingly slim for a silencer—not frail, but definitely not
as muscular as Baqir or his brother. His height contributed to it, giving him
the appearance of an ethereal, almost fae-like creature.

Naturally, Baqir knew better than to underestimate the
strange silencer. He also would have never contacted Dread if he hadn't feared
for his mate. Dread was a double-edged blade that could easily kill its
wielder, which was why most everyone in the silencer world—Baqir included—gave
him a wide berth. If he'd ever belonged to a guild, no one knew it, but when it
came to Dread, something was always very clear. Owing the mysterious werewolf a
favor wasn't a good idea.

However, at this point, Baqir was desperate, and if nothing
else, Dread had always proven to be efficient.

To Baqir's surprise, it didn't take Dread long to meet with
him. He must have already been in Paris, which had implications Baqir didn't
want to think about. The twinkle in Dread's green-blue eyes told Baqir he
hadn't been completely successful in hiding his unease.

"I didn't kill your men, if that's what you're worried
about."

Baqir didn't bother to deny his wariness. He was already
beginning to regret summoning the man here, since the last thing he wanted was
to draw attention to Remy. But Remy had proven to be much better at
disappearing than Baqir had expected, and since contacting Remy's pack had not
worked, his choices had been limited at best. Meanwhile, yet again, Dread came
through for him. He slid into Baqir's car and passed him an envelope, which
turned out to contain stills from a CCTV camera.

The stills displayed Remy's departure with his companion, a
woman Baqir didn't recognize. Dread apparently did, because he pointed at her
figure and said, "Blanchefleur. Argent Hull's mother."

Ah. Baqir should have known. He'd heard about her
reappearance and the fact that she'd left Russia for her own investigation, but
he had not realized she was in contact with Remy. He was irritated that Alpha
Maximoff hadn't mentioned it, but then, it was his own fault, since he himself
had made it clear that he preferred to stay as far away from the rest of them
as possible.

Shaking himself, Baqir looked at Dread again. "So he's
not at risk?"

Dread shrugged. "I suppose it depends on what you mean
by that. I don't think she would hurt him, but she has been known to frequent
the underground as of late."

Baqir narrowed his eyes at Dread. "What do you
know?"

Dread's grin should have been threatening, but somehow
managed to look playful as well. "Oh, I'm loving this. You have no idea
what you stumbled onto, do you?"

Baqir might have thrown all caution to the wind and punched
Dread in the face had he still not needed information from the other werewolf.
"Stop playing games. I'm not in the mood for it."

"Clearly." Dread cleared his throat, but he didn't
seem offended. "Just drive. I know where you can find the little
pup."

Baqir was alarmed at Dread's words, since he couldn't fathom
why Dread would have a nickname for Remy. In truth, he had not expected Dread
to know his mate at all, but apparently, he'd been mistaken.

He also realized all too well that Dread only answered
questions when he wanted to, and right now, the answers Baqir needed were at
the end of this drive. Dread unerringly led him through the streets of the
city, all the way into an area that seemed obscure even by silencer standards.
Everything was quiet and dismal, the only sign of life a few stray dogs that scuttled
through the dark.

Or at least, so it seemed at first glance, because the closer
he got, the more Baqir became convinced that they were in the right place. He
might have not bound Remy to him, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel his
mate. And he might have been unable to track Remy in the city—his price for
being a coward and not claiming what was his—but he could definitely sense his
lover here.

Dread didn't provide him with any explanation. Indeed, once
they entered the area, he seemed content to just lean back against his seat and
wait. What little emotion he'd displayed during their encounter so far had
completely faded, leaving behind the familiar mask of the warrior who had once
torn apart three very unwise silencers with his bare hands.

Baqir ignored him. It was probably not a very wise thing of
him to do—Dread was a threat even on a good day—but right now, each and every
one of his senses was completely focused on finding his mate.

Their destination turned out to be a warehouse of sorts. Like
everything else here, it seemed in complete disrepair, but appearances were
deceptive. Beneath the surface of crumbling brownstone and rusty metal, a few
details stood out, but only to Baqir's trained eye. The locks were new, and, as
far as Baqir could tell from his cursory examination, top quality. Of course,
all silencers knew that there was no point in adding a good lock to a bad door,
so the walls and the rest of the structure had been rebuilt from the inside,
while still keeping the appearance of run-down and abandoned.

Baqir wasn't exactly sure where Dread had brought him, but he
did not hesitate. He would not be caught off guard. Under different
circumstances, he might have actually stopped here—he could spot a potential
trap when he saw one—but if Dread did have baleful intentions toward him, he'd
definitely used the right bait. Without a doubt, Remy was here.

The thing about mates—even ones like Baqir and Remy who
hadn't actually completed their bond—was that they could sense one another. As
such, Baqir was not the only person who had this feeling, this knowledge. It
went both ways, so it wasn't wholly surprising when Remy greeted him at the
door of the warehouse.

Remy's scowl didn't bode well for their impending
conversation. "Dread… I see you brought guests."

"Indeed. I believe you already know one another so
there's no reason to make the introductions."

"You're quite right." Remy's voice softened as he
turned toward Baqir. "What are you doing here, Baqir?"

There were many potential replies on Baqir's lips.
I
missed you. I wanted to see you. I can't breathe when I'm not with you. I'm
sorry for how we parted ways. I'm so very sorry for what I said. I didn't mean
it.
In the end, he went with none of those options and chose the most
practical one. "I was worried about you. I dropped by your place and when
I couldn't find you there, I enlisted Dread's help."

Of course, there was a little more to it than that, but Baqir
was not comfortable talking about his regrets and frustration with Dread there.
In fact, he didn't even know if he could expose them at all. It had been clear
from the beginning that Remy deserved better, and while Baqir had dared to
dream they might have a chance, the illusion had shattered under the weight of
reality.

Perhaps Remy had realized it as well, because he narrowed his
eyes at Baqir. "I don't need your concern," he said.

"Oh, dear," Dread muttered under his breath.
"Lovers' spat? I think that's my cue to step out of the scene."

With a dramatic swish of his long coat, Dread slid into the
warehouse. Remy rolled his eyes. "He hasn't changed."

"Quite. How do you even know him?"

It wasn't something he'd been particularly planning to
discuss, but he couldn't help the question, not after having seen the
familiarity between the two and the strange emotion Dread displayed where Remy
was concerned. He was proven correct when Remy didn't immediately answer.

Vicious fury rose inside Baqir. "You are lovers, aren't
you?"

"Not right now, but we did have a liaison for a
time," Remy admitted. "It's... complicated. I haven't spoken to him
in a while."

Baqir suppressed the snarl that bubbled in his throat. He had
no right to question Remy's past. He barely had that right when it came to
Remy's present, and even that was pushing it. "In any case," Remy
said, "you didn't have to worry. I'm fine and I can handle myself. I've
been doing so for quite a while."

Baqir suddenly had a very bad feeling about this entire
situation. "What exactly are you doing here, Remy? Is this related to the
investigation?"

"That's a useless question, and you know it." Remy
snorted. "Everyone seems to think I can't help, but that is obviously not
the case. I suppose it's not a bad thing that you've come. We need more
information on the killings."

A shiver went down Baqir's spine. The idea that Remy wanted
to look into the killings made Baqir flash back to images of the bodies as they
had looked when they'd been found. "You can't be serious. You can't
possibly—"

Remy cut him off before he could finish the phrase. "I
can and I will. I told you once before. We're in this together. Also, this
isn't just about us. People are dying, and if I can do something about it, I
will."

"You have no clue what you're dealing with!"

"Well, that's exactly where you come in, right?"

Baqir bit the inside of his cheek so hard it bled. He had not
come here to bring even further peril to Remy's doorstep. But Remy was nothing
if not stubborn and he would not listen if Baqir tried to tell him to stay out
of it. As such, Baqir needed to think clearly, respect Remy and most of all,
not let his jealousy get the better of him.

He inhaled and exhaled, managing to muster a level of calm
before he finally provided an answer. "I wish I did have the information
you need, but nothing makes sense."

Remy gave him a skeptical look, like he didn't quite believe
what Baqir was saying. "We'll see. For the moment, come on in. We really
shouldn't be talking about this out in the open."

That was one thing Baqir could definitely agree with. He
followed silently after his mate as Remy led him past the door and into the
warehouse.

As soon as he stepped inside, Baqir caught a glimpse of two
figures further away—Dread and Blanchefleur. Suddenly, it seemed unbearable to
be forced into an all-business conversation with other people involved before
he and Remy cleared the air between them.

Baqir grabbed Remy's wrist, keeping him from advancing.
"Wait. Before we deal with that… Can I talk to you for a minute?"

The question was clumsy and a bit senseless, and Remy didn't
delay in pointing that out. "We're talking now."

"In private." Baqir nodded in Dread and
Blanchefleur's general direction. "Without them."

Fortunately, his mate didn't argue with him. He allowed Baqir
to guide him further away from the other two occupants of the warehouse.
Although it wasn't exactly easy to find privacy in such a place, they managed
to take refuge behind a big crate. It would have to do.

Baqir carefully considered his words and tentatively began to
speak. "Look, about earlier—"

"I understood what you were trying to say," his
mate cut him off. "You don't have to worry about hurting my
feelings."

 
"But I did, and... Well,
you
hurt
me
." He was uncomfortable with admitting that, uncomfortable
with accepting the fact that a man he'd just met had the ability to shatter the
walls he'd built at great personal cost. "But I do admit I was wrong to
leave like that, and to say the things I did. In case you're wondering, that
part, about me not wanting you, was a huge lie."

Remy's lower lip trembled as he faced Baqir again.
"Baqir..."

"Please, let me finish. I'm not a good person. You know
that, and so do I. I don't think either of us was really ready for what
happened, and for... For everything."

Remy nodded slowly. "Agreed. We did sort of... jump into
it without thinking things through. But... That's not necessarily a bad
thing."

"I suppose," Baqir mused. "I'm not sure I
would have ever been ready to meet you." Even now, standing in front of
Remy took his breath away and made his head spin. It was exhilarating, shocking,
and for someone like Baqir—who prized control above all else—it was also
frightening.

"There are some things I cannot help," he went on.
"I... I met up with Reynard to find out information about the new dead
body, but even as I was listening to the report, I was still thinking about how
much danger haunted your steps."

Remy scowled at his words. "I can protect myself."

Despite knowing this wasn't what Remy wanted to hear, Baqir
said what was on his mind. "No, you can't. None of us can. I've already
ordered my people to back down, because whoever is killing them has skills
we're not familiar with. I'm... I'm not even sure
I
can keep you
safe."