Page 81 of The Phantom's Vice

“Did he—did hekillher?” Brett asks, tears welling in her beautiful blues. “Is he the one who tortured her—” Her voice cracks, and her head falls.

“No, darling,” I murmur, wishing I could take away all this pain. “No. It was—it’ll be easier tounderstand if you read it.” I gesture to the notebook in her tiny white hand. “I’m so sorry, Brett.”

“For what?” she whispers, her whole body starting to shake. “For demanding I trust you, all the while you were hidingthisfrom me?” She holds up the book, her mouth pulled down in a frown. “Howam I supposed to do that now? You’ve been lying to me!”

“Ihadto?—”

“You didn’thaveto do anything,” she snaps, her glare faltering as she takes in my dejected expression. She pulls up her hand, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know, trust is kind of a two-way street here. If you had the same courtesy for me, you would have shown me this.” She shakes her head, those tears falling freely. “This is mymom.I haven’t had anything—anythingto remember her by. And after the hundreds of times I’ve asked you for information, you have been sitting on this! How am I supposed to feel about that?”

“I was trying to keep you safe!” I raise my voice, causing Brett to flinch. Guilt thrums through my veins at the frightened look in her eyes, and for the first time since I’ve seen it, it brings me no joy. “I was only protecting you.”

“I don’t need protection!” she yells, throwingher hands in the air. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a fucking federal agent! I’ve been taking care of myself since I was thirteen, and doing a damn good job of it, too! You can’t keep me locked away like this forever, Ghost. There will always be dangers—that’s fucking life for you. But to do this—tointentionallykeep me in the dark—it’s like you think I’m some kind of helpless child.”

“That’s not—” The words die in my throat at the look on her face. Somewhere deep down, I know her words hold truth. I have been keeping her in the dark for fears of my own that had nothing to do with her or her actions. I just can’thelp it.I’m so scared something will take her away from me that I’ve been playing fate. Controlling everything down to the last-minute detail, keeping her happy, ignorant, and pliable in the palm of my hand.

Only, I forgot Brett is not so easily controlled. You can’t catch a hurricane in a jar any easier than you can make her do what you want. I’ve been so content playing a fantasy with her that I’ve forgotten who Brett is at her core.A conniving, intelligent, natural disaster of a woman.

“Brett, I’m sorry,” I say, reaching out to her face. She lets me touch her, but the softness I'm used toseeing in her eyes is no longer there. “Please, tell me what to do to make it better.”

“Ghost—” She stops to wipe a tear away angrily. “Everything is okay. I’m just—I need to process this. I’m mad at you, yes… but I’m mostly just emotional aboutthis.”She holds up the notebook, unable to look at it. “Would it be okay if I had a little time alone to read it over?”

I nod, a million tons lifting from my chest as she presses on the balls of her feet to kiss my mask. “Thank you,” she whispers, giving me a sad smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

It kills me to watch her walk away from me toward the bedroom, knowing I won’t be joining her this time. The only thing that makes me feel better is the fact she said everything was okay—meaningwe’restill okay.

I sigh, my shoulders slumping as I walk to the front door and press my wrist to the wall.I’ll give her some space. Hopefully, by the time I come back, she’ll have forgiven me a little.

It’s all I can pray for at this point.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

BRETT

Jane Evangeline: Entry #17

I have made a horrible mistake

I lie on the mattress,holding my mom’s notebook above my head. Waves of guilt pour over me as I think back to my conversation with Ghost. It killed me to say the things I did—to watch his shoulders droop and hear his sad tone—but I couldn’t just let it go. He hid somethingmajorfrom me, and I need to process how that makes me feel.

The fucked-up part is I was really, truly starting to trust him.A psychopathic, lunatic serial killer in a mask.I sigh, shaking my head at those vile thoughts. I’ve realized Ghost has a lot more to him. He has asweet side that he only shows the people he loves. So much, it almost redeems the horrible things he’s done.

I pull the notebook open with a sigh. I heard the front door scrape a few minutes ago, meaning I’ll be alone for a while to pore over the pages of scribble. I flip through the first couple of pages, finding only contact numbers and random names. When I get to the middle, though, my eyes go wide, and I greedily take in entry seventeen.

I flip back a few pages, starting at the very beginning of the entries. There’s so much about the Sanctum that it makes my head spin, but what I find next nearly sends me to the floor.

She was in love—with aMask.Not just any Mask—a high-level Reaper by the sounds of it. I think back to the night Ghost saved me in the garage—about the men in white masks he calledReapers.I had assumed correctly that night—Reapersarea type of Mask, though not nearly as highly trained as Phantoms, which explains why Ghost had no trouble taking them out.

When I get to note seventeen, my fingers shake as I turn the page, not wanting to see and desperately needing to know how her story unfolds.

Jane Evangeline: Entry #18

Brett, baby girl. If this ever finds its way to you, I’m so so sorry. Mommy made a mistake, and I’m afraid it’s cost me my life. I’ve barricaded myself in the bathroom of Hudson's ski lodge, but the ax he’s wielding will surely break down the door eventually.

The whole trip up here was a trick. I looked too deeply, found out too much, and now he’s going to kill me for it.

Brett, if you ever come across a masked man, DO NOT TRUST HIM. No matter how sweet he seems or how much he cares for you, RUN. Run fast, and don’t look back.

They are master manipulators—a fact I found out too late—and only serve one thing.

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