Page 36 of Shadows in Bloom

I tighten my fist around the steel bar and drop my head as my stomach clenches. “Who?” I demand through gritted teeth.

“He ah…” There’s a beat of silence, “Ah, it’s?—”

“Who?” I shout.

Kensington clears his throat. “His boyfriend, Sal. The guy said he’s Justice’s boyfriend.”

Hand clenched around my phone, I kick the bottom of the cell, seething with rage. “You said there was no one,” I say with all the calm I can muster. “Have you been lying to me, Kensington?”

“NO!” he rushes out, voice panicked. “No, I had no idea they were fucking. I thought the guy was a friend, that’s all.” He shuffles some papers, then taps on a keyboard. “Maybe he’s just saying that… you know, to get informa?—”

I cut him off, Ignoring his stuttering explanations, “Give me the address.”

“Sal, I don’t think that’s a good idea. The cops have been hanging around—” Kensington starts.

“Give me the fucking address, now!” I growl into the phone.

When Kensington says he’ll text me the address, I hang up.

Heavy footsteps come down the stairs. I shove my phone into my back pocket and head over to the door to unlock it.

Diablo takes one look at me and must sense the turmoil brewing beneath my skin. “What happened?” he asks.

“He has a fucking boyfriend,” I seethe, wanting to tear the flesh from Justice’s bones until there’s nothing left of him that’s been touched by someone else’s hands.

“You mean had…” Diablo’s blasé tone and his growing smirk tells me he’s ready to kill for me. Before I can say anything, he reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. “Come on,” he nods towards the cage. “He’ll be fine while we’re gone.”

I clench my fists, the urge to destroy something is an untameable desire that has my fingers twitching and my heartbeat pounding against my chest. I turn to look back at Justice’s unmoving form.

“Sal,” Diablo says, breaking through the red haze of rage that smothers my vision.

When I turn back to him, he runs his fingers through my hair, roughly tugs on the strands, then pulls my head back until I wince. The bite of pain trails down my spine and causes me to suck in a breath.

Diablo takes a step closer to me, his chest brushes against mine. “It’s time to let him in,” he says.

I try to shake my head, refusing to accept his words that will allow Justice complete access into our toxic world of darkness and depravity, but I’m stopped by the tight hold Diablo has on my hair. “Sal…” he says with a growl, “Let him give you what you need.”

For twenty-five years, Diablo has been my brother, my closest friend, and my partner in crime—literally. We have a relationship that consists of intense codependency, toxicity, and unhinged madness. Without each other, we would annihilate the world… a volcanic eruption would pale in comparison. We share a bond forged from a dire need for human connection, and the innate desire to tether ourselves to someone who knows every secret, every scar, and every dirty, depraved thought we’ve ever had.

Averting my gaze, I swallow down the lump in my throat as he drops his hand and steps back. “Come on, let’s finish this so you can set your little firebird free again.”

Four hours later, it’s nearing midnight and we’re parked at the end of a tree lined, suburban street when Diablo cuts the engine of his sleek, black BMW. Dressed in black hoodies and jeans, we’re camouflaged against the shadows as I sling my duffle over my shoulder, and we make our way towards Justice’s house. If I find out this guy is actually Justice’s boyfriend, nothing will stop me carving out his heart.

The ordinary, brick house is bathed in darkness when Diablo and I approach the front door. After a quick glance around the surrounding area for any potential witnesses, we pull on our balaclavas and hoods before I knock.

For a long minute, there’s not a sound, and I wonder if he’s even here. I knock again, and a voice from inside asks, “Who is it?”

“A friend of Justice’s,” Diablo answers.

The door creaks open slightly, but Diablo shoves it wide open as we barge into the house.

“What the fuck?” The guy lashes out with a weak attempt at a punch before he tries to escape. He stumbles over a nearby table and falls face-first onto the hardwood floor. In one swift motion, I draw my knife and press its sharp tip against his neck.

“Are you Jordan?” I demand.

“Yes, yes! Who are y—you? What do you want?” he stammers between panicked breaths. “Where’s Justice?”

“Justice is safe,” I state, rage building inside me at the mention of his name from this man’s lips.

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