Page 21 of Secrets Unveiled

“Now, what the fuck did you two do?” I finally look at Saint, whose face is unreadable. Saxon lets out a long, exasperated sigh before brushing his hands through his hair.

“Let’s go into the kitchen. You might want to sit down for this, sis.” He leaves the room without giving me another look. Saint and I stare at one another for a long moment, the realization of what we just did hitting me like a fucking sixteen-wheeler as guilt fills me up. I can’t decipher his expression, so I head for his door, but a hand grabs my arm, stopping me.

“I’m not sorry—I don’t regret what we did tonight. And I’ll do it again.” He drops my arm and steps in front of me, heading to the kitchen and leaving me so confused yet so turned on all at once.

What have I gotten myself into?

I gather my composure before exiting Saint’s room and head into the kitchen, finding Saint already sitting at the island while Saxon has grabbed a Corona from the fridge, already having downed half of the contents. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting to have this conversation tonight. I make my way to the island and sit at the barstool beside Saint. I can’t help wanting to be close to him, his pull on me suddenly so strong I can’t ignore it.

“Right, tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out. What were you doing at the quarry, and who was that guy?” I ask flat out, needing answers to whatever mess they’ve found themselves in. The pair give each other a look before Saxon settles his gaze on me.

“Before we tell you, sis, you need to promise you’ll stay out of it and let us handle what needs to be handled.”

“What the hell do you mean, Sax? Just tell me what’s going on!” My tone is louder than I intended it to be, but I’m getting frustrated by the stalling.

“For the past couple of years, Saint and I have been doing some digging on the fire.” Well, that’s not what I expected him to say, yet I don’t know what I was expecting at all. I don’t say a word, just let him continue to explain.

“We received a tip a while back that suggested the fire was not an accident but was intentional.” My hand covers my mouth. All this time, I had never believed the fire to be an accident. I’ve had a feeling in my gut ever since the day I got out of the hospital that something, or someone, started it.

“What was the tip?” My voice is low as I try to keep the sting of threatening tears at bay.

“We were told, by a very reliable source, that a member of the Hellstorms was paid to set the fire and make it look like an accident.”

“Wait, the Hellstorms? As in Skylar’s family’s motorcycle club?” I look from Saxon to Saint, but it’s Saxon who nods once to my question.

“So, Sky told you that her family’s club killed our father and almost killed me?!” I was yelling at this point. “Your girlfriend, or whatever you call her, ratted on her own family to you? I don’t believe it. What does she have to gain by doing that? If her family knew she ratted, they would kill her! Does she realize that?” I am so confused I want to scream; no way is this true—it can’t be.

“Her father had planned to marry her off to a disgusting excuse of a man. His goal was to expand their club by combining with another northern club. Sky wanted nothing to do with the guy. Apparently, he’s an abusive piece of shit and has already been married twice. However, both of his previous wives have died under mysterious circumstances. That’s why she fled here two years ago, seemingly out of nowhere.”

That’s right; it has been two years since Sky showed up in Golden Heights. One day she had just started working at the club, and I never asked where she came from or what brought her here. She was so nice, and we connected immediately. So did the other girls—Ophelia, Bristol, and Frieda. It never crossed my mind that she was running from anyone. She’s so confident and social, and not once has she ever seemed scared. As if Saxon can see the wheels turning in my head, he continues, “After she’d been here for about a year, we ran into each other at the club. We talked, and I got to know her more. Then she started receiving threatening texts whenever I was with her. She always said it was nothing until the threats turned into someone physically stalking her. I pressed her about what the hell was going on, and she finally admitted who she was. It wasn’t until she realized I was Saxon Wilder that she started asking me about the fire. I thought it was suspicious that she even knew about the fire, since I’d never told her. I was wary of trusting her and distanced myself, but she was insistent that she was no longer affiliated with her family and admitted that she ran away. To prove she wasn’t a part of the Hellstorms anymore, she told me it was a couple of thugs from her father’s club that were hired to set the fire.” He paused for a long moment, finishing his beer and grabbing another one.

Saxon looked rough—he has dark rings under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days, and his whole demeanor is off. The calm and stoic Saxon currently looks like he is battling a war within himself and his opponent is winning.

“Listen, Sage, the next bit I’m about to tell you, you have to realize I did it all for our father and for you. Christ, you almost died from smoke inhalation, not to mention the physical scars you have.” I give him a small nod, telling him to go on.

“Remember when Saint and I left for those few days last month for business?” I nod, looking from Saxon to Saint and back to Saxon.

“We were up north, interrogating the two guys from the Hellstorms who supposedly set the fire. We were informed that they were only hired to set the fire, they had no other affiliation at all. Hell, they said they didn’t even know who was inside the house. So, someone else must have wanted Dad dead. We did what we had to do to get answers, but in the end, we had to eliminate them. Besides, they were the ones to physically kill Dad.” I lean back into the barstool, allowing everything to sink in. My brother and Saint were the ones I saw throwing a man into the quarry.

How has it all come to this? Lies, secrets, murder. This is not what Father had in store for his club. He wouldn’t want his son becoming a ruthless, murderous heathen without any remorse for human life, or so I thought. A sharp twinge of pain starts growing behind my eyes, and I rub my temple with my fingers to try and ease the pain.

“What was his name?” I don’t know why I ask; it just comes out before I can think.

“What?” Saxon responds, confusion etched across his face at my question.

“The guy at the quarry—what was his name?” I repeat. Saxon and Saint exchange a look of confusion, likely wondering why his name matters. To be quite honest, I’m not sure why I want to know either.

“Damien Devonte. He gave the other two thugs the address of the house. He was the messenger of sorts. Another member in the long line of rats who were paid to set the fire.” Saxon’s voice is cold and emotionless as he speaks the name of the man he murdered. I don’t respond. I don’t know how to; I simply nod a few times, pushing his name to the back of my brain. The three of us remain quiet, not a sound but the hum of the refrigerator fills the kitchen. It is all so much. So much information in such a short amount of time, not to mention the tension vibrating between Saint and me. If it were possible for your brain to intake too much information at once and crash, mine was doing so at this moment.

“So, what do we do now?” I finally ask, not sure how all this information would lead us to discovering my father’s murderer. Saxon tosses his bottle in the recycling before turning back towards the pair of us.

“We aren’t doing anything. You are not to get involved in any of this. Do you understand me? Shit, I shouldn’t have told you this much.” My jaw hits the countertop. Is he for real right now?

“Excuse me? After everything you just said, you expect me to not be involved? News flash, big brother, it was our father who died, not just yours. I’m involved whether you like it or not. You can’t—” Saxon slams his hands on the countertop. The slap of his skin against granite is so loud I can’t help the jump of my shoulders from the sudden noise.

“Damn it, Sage, you’re not to be involved! You’re to focus on school, friends, and your plans to open up the custom paint shop, but from here on out, you are to act as if this conversation never happened. You hear me?” My skin prickles at the scolding my brother is giving me. There is nothing I hate more than my brother yelling at me like I’m a child, especially in front of others. I can feel the heat radiating off Saint beside me, as my own heat floods my face from embarrassment. There is nothing left for me to say; when Saxon is in his mood, his word is final. I nod a few quick times before he lets out a sigh and leaves me and Saint in the kitchen.

I can’t look at Saint—the sting of unshed tears fills my eyes, and I can’t bear him seeing me cry. I’m not one to cry, but whenever Saxon yells at me like that, I feel like a burden. His problem that I was never supposed to be. I know big brothers are supposed to protect their little sisters, but since Dad died, I feel like Saxon has been more of a fatherly figure towards me, and I can see the stress it causes him. I never want to disappoint him or be the cause of his worry.

---