Page 6 of Into the Light

I didn’t want to torture this guy. I knew in my soul that Ash wasn’t murdered. Mr. Ortiz just couldn’t comprehend that his son, the one he groomed for leadership, would want anything other than that life.

“Is it my turn to say I told you so?” Pico’s eyes narrowed on me, and I punched him in the shoulder.

I opened the door, letting the cold winter air into the small cabin before telling the guys they needed to take him back to town.

“You’re letting me go?” the guy asked.

“Yeah. Go back to the Alphas and cry about this shit, though, and you’re dead.”

“O-okay. I-I swear.” He was useless. The moment he shed a tear, I knew he was too fucking scared to say anything.

Two of my guys came in after they parked their ATV and grabbed, blindfolded, and loaded him onto the back of the vehicle.

“Vamos,” they said before peeling out, weaving through snow banks between the tall pines.

“You coming?” Pico asked as he grabbed his black leather jacket.

“In a second,” I responded. “I’m going to clean this up.”

“You good, Rain?” Pico’s voice lowered, and I hated this tone. It was something I’d heard many times over the last eight months. Sympathy . . . or fuck, empathy, whatever you wanted to call it, but I fucking hated it.

“I’m fine,” I grumbled. Over the last few months, Pico was the only fucking person who actually gave a shit about me. With Mr. Ortiz constantly breathing down my neck, pressuring me to unravel Ash’s fate, I juggled roles. I went from being the Vice President to the President of the Den, a title I had no intention of seeking.

All I ever wanted was to finish my damn studies, slip under the radar of the Cartel, and let my stepbrother take the reins. But no, life threw me into this position, and I damn well knew that after graduation, I’d be taking on the full leadership role, a prospect I vehemently resisted. My dreams involved lying back, escaping into books, and crafting worlds that offered respite from real life. Because reality often sucked, and reading was an escape.

Yet, these past eight months carved fury into me, molding me into this hardened exterior. That’s why I reluctantly agreed to this plan—to appease Mr. Ortiz and maybe uncover buried truths at the Alpha house and untangle the enigma surrounding Ash’s gut-wrenching demise. Alas, our efforts resulted in only dead ends, which was the common conclusion and theme throughout these last few months.

I’d have to go back to Mr. Ortiz and let him know we still had nothing and maybe we should consider that Ash did actually . . . kill himself. While I understood that to be a possibility, Mr. Ortiz refused to believe it. My mother, his wife, sided with him, too.

“You taking classes again?” Pico asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, gotta repeat last year’s spring semester.” I shook my hair off my shoulders. I really needed a fucking haircut. It was just one way I had stopped giving a shit.

“I cannot believe your professors failed you,” Pico said, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Me, either.” I failed one semester of classes, but my adviser assured me that if I took summer classes, I could graduate with the rest of my class. Mr. Ortiz was upset that I wasn't taking business as a major, but it was too late to change majors since I was already a senior.

“Are you taking any electives?” he asked. A conversation that would have been so normal for two college students to have, but after waterboarding a kid mere moments ago, it felt a little ridiculous.

“Yeah. I gotta go see my counselor about what I need to do.” I shrugged.

“Sounds . . . dope?” We laughed, knowing electives were just filler classes to complete my schedule.

“See you back at the house.” Pico opened the door, and that cool winter wind blew through the small hunting cabin again.

“Hey, Pico?” I asked right as he was about to step out.

Pico’s gaze locked onto mine, and I saw that familiar sympathy in his eyes. He knew what I was about to ask—it was a question that had become almost routine between us. His girlfriend, Marissa, was connected toher, and I couldn’t help but wonder about her. I hadn’t spoken her name in eight long months, and I had no intention of breaking that streak.

Reality had hit me hard, forcing me to take on the responsibility of protecting her as Ash would have wanted, but as time passed and the influence of those around me took hold, resentment built. I couldn’t help but blame her for what had happened. A part of me harbored anger because her brother stayed in Isles all summer, hiding out on neutral ground, while she enjoyed her life in her house, free from the aftermath of that night.

Anger had consumed me to exhaustion. I thought about Ember every single day, wondering how she was doing, and would get updates from the housekeeper I’d hired for her. She had sent them on vacation this last month, so it’d gone silent.

“How is she?” The words finally escaped my lips. Pico’s lips pulled into a tight straight line before he said the same thing he always did.

“She’s good,” he’d mumble, and then be off on his merry way.

His hesitation made me step closer to him. The way his eyes darted to my feet, then back up, made me think there was something else.

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