WREN
Elias stood in the doorway, and for one full second I genuinely thought my mind was playing tricks on me.
He looked nothing like the man I'd seen in that holding cell three weeks ago. His collar was loose, his jacket hanging slightly off one shoulder like he hadn't bothered to fix it after pulling it on. His eyes were glassy, unfocused in a way I'd never once seen on him in all the years I'd known him. Elias didn't drink. Even if he did, not like this, as far as I knew.
"Elias." His name came out of me before I could stop it, more in a whisper.
"Wren." He said my name slowly, like it took effort to get the shape of it right. A faint smile pulled at his mouth. "You look surprised."
"What are you doing here?" I snapped, my face twisting to a frown. "And how the hell did you find my
