Page 139 of Under the Lies

Both Gabe and Thea stare back, grave-faced, nodding. Reeve nods as well, but that smug smile is going to get punched off his face if he doesn’t stop.

I’ve been good. Controlled since I couldn’t find Sayer after the lights came back on at the art gallery.

Thea, who was checking on security at the same time the power went out, found me immediately. All she said was, “She’s gone.”

Two words. Two minuscule words that seized me by the throat, constricted my lungs. An unfamiliar feeling of helplessness settled over me with realization, I let her go.

In the chaos, she slipped through my fingers.

Reliving it now, I bark at them to get moving and the four of us break off into a separate section of the huge cemetery. But even doing this, I fear it’s not enough.

I’m not one to feel fear. Or guilt.

But I feel them now.

Fear over Sayer’s wellbeing, her safety. Over her.

Guilt for letting this happen. I should’ve held onto her for dear life the second the lights went out.

Both emotions taste bitter, stinging with the knowledge of failure.

I’ve spent my life, prided myself, on not letting anyone in. Not letting them get past the shields I’ve long since put up, but I wasn’t counting on Sayer Brooks to be as formidable as she is.

A siren I can’t ignore the call of. And I’ve tried.

Tried to put some boundaries between us, like not sleeping in my room. Physical shields to back my internal ones.

She looks at me like I’m made of steel, but if she’d ask I’d bend like aluminum.

She draws me in, captivating not only my time and attention but all my thoughts, even when they shouldn’t.

What started out as an attempt to satisfy a craving, a way to pass the time on my path of revenge, has turned into something I couldn’t anticipate.

Evolved into something that makes me uncomfortable.

Sayer Brooks has become important to me.

Ground crunches beneath my shoes as I walk between the headstones, observing, looking for signs. The sound fragile, disrupting the serenity only found in a graveyard.

This is Sayer’s nightmare—as well as mine.

Her being in a cramped, dark space. Dying.

Me not being able to keep her safe.

She’s not dying, I growl at myself. I’m getting her back.

When I asked Thea who took Sayer, she said she didn’t know, they wore a hood over a mask. Mask or not, they’re only safe for as long as it takes me to find them.

Because I will.

And when I do, I’m going to rip their limbs apart.

But my need to find Sayer outweighs my hunger for vengeance. At least, until she’s safe in my arms.

Not that she’s even safe there, evidently.

My fists tighten at my sides.

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