Page 42 of Secrets Unveiled

It takes Saxon a few days to warm up to the new dynamic in the house. Saint and I respect him, so we hold off on any PDA in front of him. It’s awkward enough seeing his best friend with his sister. I don’t want to poke the bear, so to speak. Saint has his own apartment, but he’s been staying at the house more days than not. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time he wasn’t here. I like it that way.

Finn and Brooks were able to extract some of the security footage from campus that gave us a clear image of a license plate attached to the dark blue van that pulled up beside me and Dante before he was gunned down. It was eerie, almost like an out-of-body experience, watching the footage. Dante had seen the van almost at the exact moment it entered the side parking lot. There was no hesitation—he covered me in an instant. I couldn’t watch after that. Knowing Dante was taking bullets for me made the guilt unbearable.

The license plate number came back to a man with a bogus name, which led us to yet another dead end. However, I can’t stop watching a section in the video where the van window was rolled down. The side profile of a man was faintly visible. Over and over again, I watch, pause, and rewind until I’m able to pause on his profile, where he was most visible.

“Are you able to zoom in or enhance this still shot at all?” I ask Brooks, who’s sitting next to me in the meeting room of the club.

“Yeah, of course.” I slide the laptop towards him, and he begins typing away. A moment later, he slides it back to me. I study the image, and bile quickly rises in my throat.

“Are you okay?” Brooks asks me, but I’m already up and heaving into the closest garbage can. “Jesus, Sage. Here, take this.” Brooks has a handful of tissues waiting for me as he rubs my back with his other hand.

“Sax, Saint, get over here!” he yells for the guys, who had stepped out of the room for some air. We’d been discussing every detail of the fire and anything we may have overlooked during that day and the few months following. I hear the door burst open, heavy footsteps making their way towards me as I heave all the contents of my breakfast into the garbage.

“Sage, what’s wrong? What happened?” Saxon’s voice is loud, but he isn’t yelling; he sounds more concerned than anything.

“I don’t know, man. One minute, she’s looking at this photo, and the next, she’s hurling into the trash,” Brooks explains to the guys.

The slide of the laptop across the wooden table fills the room. I finally stop gagging and take the water Saint has waiting for me. I wipe my mouth and down the bottle of water, trying to get the awful taste out of my mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re seeing, Sage. What’s going on?” I step closer to Saxon; Saint follows close behind me, his presence warm.

“Look at the person in the photo.”

“I am. Do you know who the driver is?” I shake my head.

“No, not the driver. Look who’s beside him, in the passenger seat.” Saxon gets closer to the image, squinting at the shadow of a man, sitting without a care in the world in the passenger seat.

“That motherfucking piece of shit! I’ll kill him!” Saxon’s yell makes my bones shake with unease. Only one thing would come from this type of fury: death. I pity anyone in his path. Well, except my uncle. Anger, sadness, disbelief—so much swirls in my gut as I look at the image of Uncle Frankie sitting in the passenger seat of the dark blue van. The van in which a man I don’t recognize shot multiple bullets in my direction. I could have died. If Dante wasn’t there, I would have.

“So, it’s true. He is connected. In a more sinister way than he’s claiming,” Saint says to the room. Saxon is vibrating with so much pent-up anger I fear he may explode. I place my hand on his shoulder. He quickly moves from my embrace, storming to the door before I call after him.

“Saxon! We need a plan first. It hurts, I know, but if you want to take him down, we need to be smarter than him. We need to play him at his own game.” With both hands on the door, Saxon stops. Saint, Brooks, Finn, and I all watched Saxon’s back rise and fall with each deep breath he takes.

“It could have been you, Sage. I could be putting you in the ground beside Luther right now. Who’s to say you weren’t the target? What if they planned that for you and not Dante?” Saxon speaks with his back towards me. Saint’s hand rests on my waist, his fingers curling into my skin at Sax’s words. A noticeable growl resonates in his chest.

“I’m aware it may have been targeted at me, but he’s obviously working with other players. We need more information before we strike.” He knows I’m right. His anger has always been his driving force, but he knows we need to identify the driver. Maybe this will lead us to something more. Something useful.

With much reluctance, Saint is able to calm Saxon down enough to sit down so we can go over a plan. Finn and Brooks work hard on trying to identify the driver with their facial recognition software. While Saxon, Saint, and I all agree, we will play it cool with Frankie until the plan is set. It’s inevitable—Frankie is going to pay. I’ve given him the benefit of the doubt, but when so many red flags have been raised, and my father’s life was the price of his actions, I need justice. Seven years. Seven years my father has been gone; my life was almost stolen from this earth as well. The thought of my uncle being wrapped up in all this leaves me not only devastated, but confused. Why? What was in it for him if my father died?

“Look at this. Frankie has been receiving payments every six months since the fire.” Saint speaks up from behind his laptop. We had decided to look into Frankie’s finances. Why was evil always driven by money? How could money trump your own family?

“Who’s it from?” Saxon asks.

“Unknown. I could try and follow the IP address, but the coding on these transactions is pretty tight. It may take me a while to try and decode.” Saxon lets out a huff of frustration.

“Just try. Maybe that will be our answer.”

“You got it.”

I watch as Saint and the boys work tirelessly. Each one enveloped in their work, while I turn my eyes to Saxon. He’s on his phone, the permanent scowl on his face deeper than I’ve ever seen it. Stressed is an understatement. He’s battling something deeper than betrayal. Saxon has always carried the world on his shoulders, and it’s starting to weigh heavy on his back. He redoes his usual man bun—his tick whenever his anger is rising.

“Sax, can I talk to you for a minute outside?” I ask. The guys’ eyes jump up from their computers. Saxon’s eyes find mine and he nods. Standing, I look back at Saint, giving him a small smile of reassurance. I follow Sax outside, the warm breeze hitting my skin, making me inhale a deep breath of calm.

“What is it?” he asks, turning towards me and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Don’t be like that,” I sigh.

“Like what?” He raises his shoulders in a shrug, but I know him all too well.

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