Free Out in Blue by Sarah Gilman Page A

and disconnected the call. Ginger rushed back inside, down the stairs and across the living area to the main doors. Looking out the wall-to-wall windows, she spotted Wren on the deck. He stood with his back to her, the angular pattern of black markings on his wings in motion as the wind whipped across his feathers. She opened the door and stepped outside.
    “Wren?”
    He lifted his gaze to her, his eyes so haunted, the green seemed to have bled out, leaving a lifeless gray.
    “Go back inside, Gin. It’s freezing.”
    She moved closer, arms wrapped around herself. “I heard some of that conversation.”
    If her intrusion upset him, it didn’t show on his face. He possessed too much turmoil in his expression already, but he flicked his wings.
    “Eighteen years… My father is alive, and he’s been a prisoner for eighteen years…”
    The vibes coming off Wren were those of a coiled snake, not a man who wanted to be coddled. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, anyway. He dropped his gaze to where she touched him, but to her surprise, he didn’t pull away.
    “You couldn’t have known,” she said.
    His face tight and grim, he shook his head. “I know now. I have to do something. In two days, Lark is going to contact me—”
    “You can’t turn yourself over to Lark!”
    That earned her a glower. She’d expected as much.
    “If that madman promised to release your father in exchange, don’t believe—”
    “He didn’t,” Wren said, his voice as cold as the wind. “Lark only promised that my father would be tortured if I don’t show. And as if I needed more incentive, Lark broke my father’s wing. He held the phone close enough, I heard the bone snap.”
    Ginger swallowed, so sickened she struggled to speak past her gag reflex. “Once you turn yourself in, Lark will have no reason to honor any promises.”
    Wren covered her hand with one of his and guided her back into the house. He shut the door firmly behind them, muting the howl of the wind.
    “I have no intention of serving myself to Lark.” He met her gaze.
    She relaxed a tiny bit. “You don’t?”
    He raked a hand through his hair. “I will not stand by while Lark butchers my father. But even if I could trust him to uphold his end of the deal, his terms are unacceptable. I won’t settle for anything short of my father’s freedom. There must be a way. There has to be something I can do. I need to think…”
    “The Guardians,” Ginger said. “They will help you. You need to trust them.”
    A muscle jumped at the corner of his eye, but he nodded.
    “Yes,” he said slowly. “I have no other choice. I’ll talk to Vin as soon as he arrives.”
    Wren pulled his arm away and stalked across the room. He paced around like a bird in a tiny cage, flicking his wings and muttering under his breath.
    “God damn Lark,” he said. “Could’ve asked me to come immediately. He’s deliberately making me wait, now that I know my father’s alive. Taunting me, taunting my father. He’s enjoying every minute of this. Sick, sadistic bastard—”
    Ginger rushed over and threw her arms around his neck. He froze, tense under her hold, his arms limp at his sides. She let one hand drift down to his wing and ran her fingers through his feathers. A tremor went down his spine and he finally lifted his hands and touched her back.
    She didn’t bother with “it’s going to be okay,” or any other words that meant nothing in the face of such a dire situation. She just held him, content to stay in that position as long as he let her. To her great surprise, minutes passed, but he didn’t pull away. He rested his head on her shoulder, silent and still.
    “Tell me something,” he said into her neck.
    She swallowed. “Anything.”
    “Why does it matter so much to you if I go to Lark or not?”
    She hesitated, debating just how honestly to answer. But she’d never been one to shy away from hard questions. Besides, with Alaska looming in her future, this