Page 18 of I Am Salvation

“Yeah. Great.” I rattle off my email address.

“I’ll also send you a W-8 form. I just need your Social Security number for your 1099 that I’ll send at the end of the year.”

“Absolutely. Whatever you need.”

“Sounds good. Glad to have you on board, Dragon.”

I place my phone back down on the table, and my gaze is drawn once again to the metal box.

To the fabric in the shape of a heart.

I pick up the piece of flannel, run my fingertips over it. How long had Griffin had those pajamas when she was taken?

I do the math in my mind.

I’m not exactly sure when she was taken. I know when she was first attacked because that’s when I was sent away. But I never got the full story of when she was actually kidnapped from my parents’ home.

Maybe it’s better that I don’t know.

Alayna has probably uncovered all of that. I could just ask her for the information.

Griffin…

I never imagined she could still be alive.

As much as I wish that she is, part of me wishes differently. Because if she’s still alive…

I can’t even begin to think about what she’s been through.

God knows I went through my own horrors when I was in that group home. But I grew strong, tough, able to fight off my attackers.

I may have started out vulnerable, but I ended up one of the strong ones.

But Griffin?

She was a five-year-old little cherub.

Why would anyone want to hurt that?

And yes, while she was also able to grow, she could still be overpowered.

That’s the difference between the sexes.

I don’t like it, but I accept it. Reality is reality.

I’ve got a little over forty-eight hours before I start my job at the music store.

I pace through the kitchen and dining area of the penthouse. I shove my hands in my pockets and then take them out. I rub my forehead, pulling at my hair.

Alayna is good at her job. I have no reason to believe she won’t be able to find out what the Order of the Serpent is.

But I’m antsy.

And I know what I’m going to do.

I won’t ask Diana for her car.

But I do know someone I can ask for help.

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