Page 164 of Victorious

His fingers came away red.

Victor swore under his breath, and pushed off the car, leaving the bodies in the lot.

XIXNOW. THEN.

DANI had a rule.

She didn’t drink when she was angry, or frustrated, or generally upset. Only when she had something to celebrate. And that night, she did. Sure, it wasn’t a genius grant, or a position at a stellar lab. It wouldn’t get her a raise, or a promotion—not yet—but it was something.

She had hacked a human body. Well, an EO body. Which, in her opinion, was even more impressive. And definitely worthy of a drink. She kicked off her shoes, and slid into her slippers, weaving toward the fridge.

Three years she’d been living in this place, one of the many houses reserved for faculty in the blocks surrounding Lockland’s campus. Three years, and it was still more boxes than furniture. A therapist would probably have something to say about that, like how she obviously believed that unpacking was an act of surrender, because it meant accepting that her current post was not in fact a temporary one, a pitstop on the road to better, brighter things.

Luckily, Dani didn’t have a therapist.

What she did have was a bottle of champagne. A gift from the head of the chemistry department—not to be confused with the dean who’d tanked her career, just because she hurt his pride.

But she wasn’t thinking about that asshole tonight.

No, she was celebrating.

Dani popped the cork and poured herself a very large glass. She downed it and was in the process of topping up when someone pounded on her door.

Dani hesitated, the glass halfway to her lips. She was not in the business of answering doors, and she waited, breath held, hoping they would go away.

Instead, they knocked a second time.

She sighed, and padded into the hall, champagne in one hand and a can of pepper spray in the other. Leaned in to peer through the peephole, and froze. Then wrenched open the door.

“How the hell do you know where I live?”

That was what she started to say, but halfway through, she saw the sheen of sweat on Victor’s skin, the blood staining his hand where it was pressed against his side, his gritted teeth.

“What did you do?” she demanded. As if he’d gone and broken a piece of valuable equipment. Which he basically had, given the time and effort she’d put into fixing him over the last three months.

“The compound doesn’t work,” he growled, storming past her into the house.

Dani pinched the bridge of her nose and set her champagne down. “What do you mean?” she asked, closing the door behind him.

“I mean, it doesn’t work,” said Victor.

“Well, it did, when you left my lab, so why don’t you walk me through what happened. But first, is that your blood?”

He looked down at his hand, the palm slicked red.

“It’s fine,” he muttered.

Dani’s head began to ache. “It’s not fine if you bleed out in my house.” He shrugged out of the coat, and she saw the gash along his side. “For fuck’s sake,” she said, looking around at the boxes, wondering which held the first aid kit.

Victor’s cold blue gaze slid over the underfurnished room, before landing on a shelf. The only contents were science magazines, and a framed photo of a young man beside a plane.

“My brother. Jeremy,” she supplied, turning through a box. “He’s a pilot, if you couldn’t tell. Mostly private. We’re not that close, but we’re all we have left, so I’m there if he needs me, and he’s there if I need him…”

She realized she was rambling, which was probably because of the champagne. But it threw into sharp relief how little she knew about the man currently bleeding on her hardwood floors.

They’d been working together for months, and the only thing he’d told her was exactly what he’d needed to, while the only thing she’d told him, until now, was what she could do. And yet, somehow, he knew where she lived. Which was disconcerting, even if, for some reason, she wasn’t surprised.

“First things first,” she said, unearthing the first aid kit. She sorted through it until she found a suture set. “I’ve never done this before, but—”