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gone?
    He heard Dory’s door close and his train of thought went flying down the track without him.
    He hightailed it to the door to catch her before she went down the stairs. “I told you to wait for me,” he said after he threw open the door.
    “And I could have sworn I told you that I could take care of myself. I’m going two blocks away on populated roads. It’s broad daylight, and it will be broad daylight when I come home this afternoon.”
    “I won’t let you walk alone.”
    He stepped into her personal space, expecting her to cower. But she just smiled at him, a dimple popping out in her left cheek.
    She had the gall to laugh at him. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, but I’ll be fine. You need rest, and I need to get to work fast, so I’m going to take my scooter instead of walking. No one will be able to bother me on my scooter. I promise.” She patted him on the chest directly opposite from his sword wound. “Take care of you and I’ll see you later. I still don’t think you should go to work today, but I won’t tell you what to do.” She quirked an eyebrow, and he got her message…
unlike how you’re trying to tell me what to do.
    Fatigue swept over him. He leaned against the door frame to hold himself up.
    “I’ll see you later,” she called over her shoulder as she walked down the stairs and out of sight.
    Maybe he
would
rest, but he was damn well going to be there when she got off work to make sure she got home okay.
    He had never pushed himself on anyone who didn’t want his help. Darkness called to him constantly, even when he walked to and from work. Actually, it was more of a smell than a calling. He’d walk down a street and smell the violence in the air, feel it in his gut. Following the scent, he would see how he could help. But some people didn’t want his kind of help. He’d been shut out of more than one domestic-abuse situation. And now quiet Dory next door was telling him she didn’t need him, either.
    With a sigh he rubbed the bridge of his nose and the slowly increasing ache in his chest. His previous train of thought came steaming back into the station. How was he okay without having purged? How was he able to function without feeling like he wanted to rip someone’s head off after all the destruction he’d dealt and been dealt last night? He should be an unholy terror right now, yet he felt calmer than he had in years.
    He didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had to find Marta. He wouldn’t admit she was lost to him until he’d exhausted every single possibility. Even then he’d have to see her body for himself. As soon as he moved into this apartment building, these people had become his responsibility, whether they knew it or not. Whether they wanted it or not, he admitted as he thought of Dory going to work without him. Perhaps in his search of the city, he’d casually stroll past her office to make sure she’d arrived safely. This was his neighborhood, his turf, and no one else was going to get hurt because of him. He was almost positive someone was out to get him by messing with those around him, and they were about to be served a taste of what Garrett Blackwell was really about.
    First, he absolutely had to go upstairs to make sure he hadn’t used the chair in front of Dory, and that she didn’t know about his upstairs space. Then he needed to take a shower. His shirt was neatly sliced open halfway down his chest, and flakes of dried blood were still clinging to his skin. He healed faster than most, but he hadn’t wanted to tell Dory that. It was bad enough that she’d seen him bleed. He only hoped he hadn’t done anything totally inappropriate to her while she was helping him. He didn’t remember much. A pair of soft lips felt imprinted on his, but there was no way he would have kissed her and stopped there with all that darkness raging through him. She hadn’t looked scared of him, and that gave him hope.
    Blowing out a breath, he jogged the short