Page 17 of Don't Look Away

I nod, anxiety pulling tight in my chest. I don’t know if I’m ready for this, but if I’m going to find out who killed my best friend, then I don’t have a second to lose.

“Great,” I say past the lump in my throat. “Let’s go.”

The beach where Bree was found is only a few minutes away. We park, and Wyn leads me to a spot on the sand that’s marked by an orange landscaping flag and a small bouquet of purple and blue flowers that are just starting to wilt. I stare down the spot, blinking back the tears.

“Is this the exact spot?” I ask.

Wyn shrugs. “Yeah, I think so. It’s a little weird that the police didn’t take the flag down. Or…maybe someone else put it there as a memorial?”

Bree’s parents were here. I’m sure that’s where the flowers are from. Purple and blue are Bree’s favorite colors, and no one would really know that except them. Guilt swamps me all over again. I should have gotten my shit together enough to see them, talk to them, and provide what little comfort I could. Bree and I had been friends since we were kids, and I owed her family that much, at least.

Sinking down, I crouch and run my hand along the sand. I imagine her body lying here, alone, for God knows how long. The razor-sharp talons of grief sink into my heart, forcing my chest to constrict, and suddenly, I’m finding it very hard to breathe.

The weight of Wyn’s hand rests on my shoulder. “You can’t go back in time and prevent what happened,” she says. “But you can find out who did this to her, and bring him to justice.”

I take a fistful of sand in my palm, then open my hand slowly, and watch as the grains slip through my fingers. Someone just came along and stole Bree’s life; just snatched it away, and then discarded her. Who does that? What kind of monster is capable of doing something like that?

I glance down at the flowers and anger rises up inside me, fusing with the murky drudge of grief to form something….dark.“Justice,” I repeat. “There’s no true justice for this kind of thing. But revenge….nowthat,I could get behind.”

There’s only silence from Wyn, and I can’t really blame her. How does one reply to a statement like that?

She offers me her hand. “Come on, let’s go. This place isn’t good for you.”

I stand up slowly, using my jeans to dust the sand off my hands. The ocean is a deep blue today, the shade matching almost perfectly with the bright cloudless sky. A sailboat in the distance is the only evidence that the ocean and the sky aren’t just one, beautiful, churning abyss.

Taking in a deep breath, I pull the briny air into my lungs and shove my grief deep,deepdown. I’ve gotten good at doing that lately, shoving my emotions down into the windowless basement of my soul. Dr. Cunningham might call that progress, but I know it’s really just avoidance. Avoidance is better than completely losing my shit, though, so it is what it is.

“Yeah,” I say finally. “Let’s go. I’ve seen what I came here to see.”

As we slip into the car, Wyn turns to me. “So where to now?”

“You said earlier that someone connected with the Sacred Sons has a connection to the police force.”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah, so?”

“I need to talk to that person.”

Wyn faces forward and shakes her head. “I don’t know, Lux. I support you finding out what happened to Bree, but involving people inside the circle? Yeah, that’s not a good idea.” She glances over at me. “Dig deep enough, and you’re going to uncover secrets thatvery powerful peoplewant to keep buried.”

“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “That’s the idea.”

If I have to rip this entire fucking town apart to get to the truth about Bree, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

CHAPTERSEVEN

Roman

Fuuuck.

What the hell is wrong with me? In that moment with Lux in the bathroom, my cock buried deep inside her….I lost it for a second. The tidal wave of emotion that came over me was something I’d never felt before. Like, I’d give anything to be with her every second of the fucking day. Like, I could crawl inside her, just to feel her warmth, and hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat surrounding me.

God damn. What is it about her that makes me feel so fuckinghappy?

I’m contemplating that question as I flee my bedroom, and head downstairs. Lucas is lounging on the sofa in the living room when I walk in. His consort, Ava, is lounging next to him with her hand down his pants.

“Get a fucking room, dude,” I groan. “The last thing I need is to walk into my own damn living room to you getting jacked off.”

Ava freezes, then slowly starts removing her hand. Lucas slaps his own down hand onto hers through the fabric of his jeans, holding her hand in place. “Don’t listen to him,” he says, tilting his head back leisurely. “He’s in love, so now, all of a sudden, getting jacked off in the living room is crass,” he laughs.

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