Page 118 of The Phantom's Vice

“Orion—”

“Just listen to the news. You’ll understand then.” The line goes silent for a moment. “I have to go now. Tell Brett I’m sorry, that I’ll miss her too. Oh, and…”

“What?”

“Don’t come see me,” he whispers, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “Just… leave me to rot.”

The line goes dead.

I slowly lower the phone to my side, debating whether it would be faster to get to the prison by car or motorcycle when a scuffle sounds out behind me. I turn, my eyes feasting on the sight of Brett in her red satin nightgown—so beautiful that I forget the current dilemma for several seconds.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, a deep crease forming between her brows. She closes the distance between us in an instant, placing her delicate hand on my chest as her eyes search my face. “Your heart’s racing.”

My fingertips tease the edge of her nightgown as I look deep into her sapphire gaze, a small frown tugging at my mouth despite the joy of being so close to her. “It’s Orion. He’s… he’s in prison.”

That crease between her brows deepens. “How? What did he?—”

“He wouldn’t tell me what happened,” I sigh, resting my hands on her hips as I dip my head, pressing my forehead against hers. “Just that it would be on the news. Oh, and that I’m not supposed to see him. Not supposed to do anything to help.”

Her mouth pops with indignation. “Well,that’snot going to happen. You’re going to get him out.Right?” When I don’t respond right away, she pulls away, brows raised expectantly. “Right?”

I heave a sigh, my eyes sliding shut as a wave of exhaustion pours over me. “A minute ago, I was ready to race over there. But now…”

“What? Now you’ve decided you want to leave him to rot in a prison cell?” Brett steps back with her arms crossed, her eyes shooting fire. “Is this some bullshit male pride thing? Because I will personally go over there and beat some sense into him if that's the case.”

“It’s not that,” I say, eyeing the ferocious creature warily. “It’s the way he sounded on the phone—tortured. Hewantsto be in there.”

“Sounds like pride to me.”

I shake my head, my shoulders drooping. “I think he did somethingbad. Something he can’t take back—something he regrets. I think… I think he’s scared of himself.”

Brett huffs. “All the more reason to get him out and get him the help he deserves. We can’t just leave him there, Ghost.”

“I know.” I sigh, shoving a hand through my hair. “I know. I just think we should give it a few hours. Find out what he did first, so we know what we’re dealingwith.”

She looks reluctant, but nods. “Fine. I’ll turn on the news.”

Brett shuffles into the living room, and when the apathetic voice of the news anchor spills into the hallway, I join her.

Brett is standing two feet from the screen, a shaking hand pressed firmly to her mouth. I can’t make out the words filling the air, can’t focus on anything but that horrified look on her face. Without thinking, I float over to her, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into my chest. I take a deep breath, allowing Brett’s scent to calm me, and slowly, the words from the tv begin to take form in my mind.

“The twenty year old man—now known by the name of Orion Adair—started his killing spree at 1:45 this morning. Authorities were alerted to gunshots at a local motorcycle gang clubhouse, and when officers arrived on scene an hour later, Orion Adair had already claimed the lives of six MC members, including Hound leader Floyd Knox.”

I jerk my eyes up to the screen, a low ringing building in my ears as the woman on the screen details Orion’s crimes. So composed. Utterly unaffected by the heinous events.

“Among those who lost their lives was six-year-oldArelia Salvatore, who had been pronounced missing since September of last year. The assailant was discovered locked in the club leaders office, covered in the girl's blood. Officers on the scene claim Adair was clutching her body and ‘rocking back and forth strangely’. When one officer tried to remove Arelia’s body from Adair, he attempted to take the officer’s life by shoving a pen through his neck. Others quickly intervened, but it took six officers to subdue Adair, and two more to wrestle Arelia’s body from his arms. Officer Pete Butow is being held at Moriton Memorial where he is expected to make a full recovery from his injury.”

The woman clears her throat, her mouth set in a grim line. “The same cannot be said for the six others that lost their lives that night, and certainly not for Arelia Salvatore. Authorities claim they don’t understand Adair’s motives at this time, or what would possess him to take the life of someone so innocent. Channel 12 joins Arelia’s parents in mourning the loss of their daughter, who say that today, “the world lost one of its purest, kindest souls.” Orion Adair is being held in a maximum security prison where he awaits trial, and the righteous hammer of justice. There is no doubt his punishment will be?—”

The woman’s voice is cut off abruptly. I look from the black screen of the TV to the remote inBrett’s outstretched hand, which is shaking ever so slightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I couldn’t listen to any more of that.”

I shake my head, pulling Brett closer in an attempt to ease the violent beating of my heart. “Do you believe them?”

She slumps against me, loosing a heavy sigh. “I don’t believe for a second he killed that girl. Orion wouldn’t… he couldn’t…” her breathing becomes uneven, and I twist her to face me, pulling her into my chest.

“I know,” I whisper, running my hand down her hair in slow, soothing movements. “Maybe he didn’t do it… but there’s no question he blames himself for it now.” I let out a breath, my mind reeling with all the possible situations that could have led to this outcome.

What the fuck were you up to that you weren’t telling me about, Orion?

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