Page 62 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

“All yours.” I offer her the glass as she gives me a sad smile before downing the sparkling beverage. She flips a piece of hair over her shoulder when she finishes.

I press a hand into my stomach, the swirling of sugar rushing to my head, and I suddenly regret eating all those sweets.

The girl found at Black Sands Cove was the last victim, so it’s possible the Imitator is letting us catch our breath before continuing to wreak havoc.

“You all look depressing as fuck.”

We all rotate, seeing Rook moving past a couple of students. His brown hair is untamed and curling at the collar of his suit. The red-horned mask he’s wearing conceals most of his face, and I realize it’s the same one as Alistair.

“No worries. I’m here to save the day.” He grins, eyes hazy.

Rook wraps his arms around Sage’s shoulders, pulling her into his body.

“Do not make a joke about your dick.” She rolls her eyes, leaning into him further and kissing his arm softly. With her heels on, they are almost the same height. They fit so perfectly together, two puzzle pieces that click.

I’m jealous for a split second.

It’s the last thing I should think about, especially right now, but I want what they have with Thatcher. I’m content with our private connection, and if that’s the only way I can have him, I’ll accept it.

I just can’t help but want the public displays of affection. A claiming arm around my waist, a kiss on the forehead in front of people. Anything that shows our relationship isn’t just a figment of my imagination.

“You’ll get plenty of my dick later, baby.” Rook kisses her cheek.

“Van Doren,” Alistair interrupts, “do you have information that isn’t horseshit or not?”

“Chill, Dad.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Thanks to Silas and his facial recognition software on his computer, I got some information on the men James met up with at the terminal. I just got their files back.”

He tosses his phone to Alistair, and we take turns passing it around. When it reaches me, I struggle to keep my face blank so the surrounding people don’t notice.

Name: Aaron O’Hara

Age: Thirty-three

Three counts of promotion of prostitution. Two counts of sexual assault. One count armed robbery.

Was sentenced ten years at age twenty-two toAttica Correctional Facility; Attica, NY.Served eight due to overcrowding.

In short, he’s an ex-pimp or current who hasn’t been busted again. I scroll past the mug shot taken years ago to the second name on the document.

Name: Declan O’Hara.

Age: Thirty-seven

Faced twenty-five years to life for organized crime charges. Accepted a plea deal for information regarding his involvement with drug and sex trafficking and ties to known organized crime members.

Was released from protective custody six years ago.

“There is no fucking way the Sinclairs are working with the mob,” Sage whisper yells, looking around at everyone. “Is there?”

Alistair runs a frustrated hand down his face. “We need to get into Elite’s company campus. If we find the shipping containers, it’ll be enough leverage against James for him to rat out everyone involved.”

The room spins a little.

How did Silas needing to avenge the murder of his girlfriend turn into this? Just how far down the rabbit hole had we fallen, and how do we expect to make it out?

“How the fuck do you plan—”

“Well, isn’t this a lovely group?”

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