The Spirit Guardians Book 3: Fated

Chapter 8

Irene played with a stray rubber band on her desk, stretching it back and forth over her fingers as thoughts of uncertainty ran through her head. It was getting much harder going back home these days let alone having the strength to go to work. Wherever she worked, there was always some façade she had to put on. Here, she was the loyal, Lynch-loving Preserver who continued to enforce oppression and injustice. Back home, she pretended she still cared for Miguel deep down and wanted to marry him.

It was one of those days that Irene felt numb inside again. It didn't help that gray clouds were rolling across the sky and that nothing particularly interesting was happening. It was these days when Irene couldn't distract herself enough to escape the thoughts that crept into her mind day and night.

"What am I doing?" she murmured to herself as she continued stretching the rubber band over her fingers.

She wasn't sure what she got out of anything these days. Protection? Maybe. But what was the point of living for security if she suffered trying to attain it? It didn't help that every information pamphlet they processed made her feel nauseous for the rest of the afternoon as she thought of the family that she would soon destroy.

Her mind flashed to Elijah briefly. She wondered what he looked like now, what his personality was like.

He's probably a little troublemaker, she thought to herself, recalling his vivacious spirit even as an infant.

A knock at her door caused Irene to bolt upright. Her heart seized, fearing it was Lynch for a second, but it was only her secretary, Susan, entering with a stack of papers.

"Are you all right, Miss Ellis? You look unwell," she said as she set the heavy pile of parchment down at Irene's desk.

"I'm quite fine," Irene lied, her stomach growing more nauseous just at the sight of the paperwork in front of her. She had been feeling a bit weak and trembly all day, but she hadn't seen it as a reason to skip work.

"You've been a little off this week. Maybe you should head home," Susan suggested.

Irene shook her head. No. Going home meant less time pledging her allegiance to Lynch. Going home would raise suspicion. Going home would...She winced and pressed a hand against her forehead as it began to throb. The headache she had gotten earlier this morning was back.

"Really, Miss Ellis. You look pale."

"I'm fine," Irene lied.

Susan scrunched her face and frowned. "I'm going to call your fiancé to come escort you back. You look like you're going to pass out. Let me help you to one of the couches out here."

"I'm—"

Before Irene could argue again, her secretary clutched her arm and led her away from the desk. Irene felt her limbs trembling beneath her and the unease in her stomach growing. Shit. She really did feel like she was going to pass out.

Irene slowly took a seat on the couch just as her vision started to become fuzzy. She let out a quiet moan and leaned her head back on one of the couch pillows.

"Drink some water," her secretary said, shoving a cup toward her.

Irene nodded and gulped it down, shutting her eyes to block out the vertigo she was feeling. She knew she had brought this onto herself. Her immense stress coupled with her lack of sleep and poor eating habits were finally taking its turn on her.

Irene held an ice pack to her forehead not long after and breathed deeply. She didn't want Miguel to come pick her up. She wanted to go back to work and—

"God, Irene, you look awful," came the all-too-familiar voice of her fiancé.

Irene slowly opened her eyes, her vision still slightly blurred as he came into focus.