Page 44 of Shattered Veil

“None of us want to hear an apology, Colt!” Zoey returned.

“Well, fuck, I’m aware of that,” Colton stated. “Tried to apologize once before, and pretty boy here punched me.” He gingerly touched his cheek, saying to himself, “Don't think this one’ll bruise…”

Luke’s eyes widened. “You showed up at the goddamn hospital after Claire was stabbed, and Liam and I were shot!”

Cassie, whose pretty head was ping-ponging between everyone as they spoke, nearly vibrated as she took in Luke’s admission.

Just as Luke was beginning to say, “Of course, I punched you,” Cassie shrieked at her brother:

“You were shot?! What in the actual fuck, Liam?!”

Liam threw his blonde head back as he let out a loud groan. “A whole year ago—”

“A year?” she questioned. “That—that’s what happened with your shoulder?! You said that you dislocated it, you lying fuck!”

“Now’s not the time to get into it, Cas,” Liam admonished her.

Cassie sank with a thud and the heaviest of eye rolls back into her chair, crossing her arms as she sat.

I shook my head rapidly because Colton’s initial confession was still ringing in my ears.

“Do we wanna, like, address the fact that Colton said women are going missing in Salem?” The room fell silent once I spoke, and then I ordered Colton, “Tell us how you know that, why they’re going missing, what that has to do with you being here, and then get out.”

Colton nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he seemingly thought to himself, and eventually replied:

“Yeah…yeah.” He clapped his hands once, as if he had internally come to a conclusion on something. “Yes, I can do that, ’cause I think y’all are makin’ me start to smell fate.” His eyes oddly bright, he took in a large breath through his nostrils and, upon letting it out, asked, “Is anyone else smellin’ fate?”

Claire’s elbows audibly hit the table as she held her head in her hands and grumbled, “Oh, good God, we don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, I’ll be quick. Can I…” Colton pointed at the bar; his unfinished question went unanswered, and he strode past a dumbfounded Luke and Liam to take a seat. He sighed as if the load off his feet was a necessity, swiveling on the stool from left to right. “Alright—how do we wanna do this? Can this be like an I show you mine and you show me yours type of deal, or what?”

All of us simultaneously spoke different variations of, ‘We aren’t telling you jack shit,’ and he waved us away.

“I’ll go first,” he remarked. “I know about the women because, over time, I’ve come to know of some very bad men. These very bad men are taking these women—I’ll stop there with the details to save your virgin ears. Anyway, this all loops in with me ’cause what they’re doing is fucking disgusting, and I’m trying to stop them.”

Luke tilted his head to the side as if he couldn’t quite hear him correctly. “I’m sorry…someone’s, what, paying you to…”

“Oh, no-no,” Colton waggled an index finger in the air. “No one’s paying me to do anything—ya see, I thought I hit rock-the-fuck-bottom after all the shit with you guys with my debt and the, ah, everything else. I didn’t. Long story. I’ll save ya the trouble. Point is—badder and badder work acquaintances equals more and more money.” He snapped as he shot a finger gun at Luke. “I’ve got money, now. But all that also equals badder and badder shit to do and a shittier and shittier conscience.” Colton concluded, far more somber than I expected, “Just…just tryin’ to clean my slate. That’s all.”

I scoffed. “We’re supposed to believe that you’ve been doing vigilante shit?”

Colton beamed. “Vigilante shit. That chicken soup has been good for the soul, man, fuck.”

“Okay.” Luke stated disbelievingly, “Sure. You’re a vigilante. That tracks.”

“What are you, twelve-stepping your way across the eastern side of the United States?” I sarcastically retorted. “Did ya find a narcissist's anonymous group? Did they give you a program for recovery?”

“Guys,” Claire interjected, gesturing to herself, Zoey, and Cassie, “We’re women. We all live here. Color me concerned regarding the potential missing women.” Luke exhaled heavily, and Claire added, “And why you’re so fucking eager to tell us all of this.”

Colton wryly asked, “I’m not allowed to catch up with friends?” All of us collectively groaned—some with profanity and some without—and Colton’s voice hitched up higher as he alternatively noted, “It always feels good to tell people that you’re tryin’ to better yourself?”

Claire admonished him with a biting, “Colton.”

“What?” he chuckled back. “I am. Is that so hard to believe?” None of us had a response to that, and he sighed, his voice dipping deeper as he said, “If your reputation is squeaky clean in this town, you’re safe, okay? Most of the missing women were in cahoots with some cartel, or…or they were prostitutes or strippers.”

It was far from what I had anticipated, and my heart leaped out of my chest. I quickly glanced at Cassie to find her staring at Zoey’s water. I took a deep breath as quietly as I could manage, let it out through my nose, and repeated the action over. When I saw that Colton was peering at Cassie as if he were awaiting her to speak, dread settled in my gut.

“As to why I’m telling you anything at all…like I said…fate,” Colton continued, moving his focus to Claire. “You think I wanted to run into you guys? You have so much fuckin’ dirt on me, you could whisper in the cops’ direction and I’d be behind bars. But, coincidentally, I’m here…and so are you.” His tone turned from serious to grave as he admitted, “The situation’s fucked, and I’m on the outside lookin’ in here. If any of you have anything—anything—that you could tell me…now’s the time.”

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