Page 35 of Undone

Colt and Trent were seated at the dining table.

“Where’s Dotty?” I asked, glancing around, half expecting her to jump out from some corner.

“I bribed her to go spend the afternoon at the bookstore,” Trent replied with a grin.

“Why?” I raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

He scoffed. “Sit down, asshole, and let me tell you.” Trent grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed Sawyer. His expression shifted to something more serious, but I could see the spark of excitement in his eyes.

“Hey. What’s going on?” Sawyer answered, his tone familiar and relaxed.

“Hey, got you on speaker with Dorian and Colt,” Trent said. He paused for a second before exhaling slowly. “I already talked to your dad and got his blessing, but?—”

Sawyer cut him off. “Oh shit, you finally asking her?”

Trent laughed, low and satisfied. “Yeah, I am.”

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. I’d seen how deeply Trent cared for my sister. But hearing him say it still hit me harder than I expected. I wasn’t bitter, not by any means. I was glad it was him—my best friend, someone I trusted implicitly. And I was happy Dotty found her own version of a happy ending, one that was crafted just for her.

But it made me aware of how much my own life had settled into a routine. Comfortable, maybe, but a little too predictable.

Sawyer’s voice broke through the quiet, bringing me back to the moment. “Well, I’ve always thought of you as a brother, man. It’ll be good to make it official.”

“What he said,” Colt added. His voice was easy, but his gaze was serious. He tilted his head toward Trent, his lips twitching slightly in a half-smile.

I looked at my best friend, nodded. “You’re the only man I’d ever trust with her,” I said, and meant every word.

We spent some time talking about Trent’s proposal plans, tossing around ideas and laughing at how Dotty might react. But eventually, Sawyer had to hop off the call, leaving the three of us.

Trent leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto its rear legs. “Feels good to have people in here,” he said, gesturing around the cabin.

“Yeah, right,” Colt muttered, cracking his knuckles. “Makes you forget the shit we’ve got to deal with.”

Trent’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Colt leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes focused on his hands. “Talked to Lilah. Got an update on John.”

The words dropped into the room like a stone, sending ripples through everything. I stood up before I realized it and paced toward the window.

“And?” I prompted, the tension already thickening.

Colt rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding our gaze. “Lilah’s got a contact at the FBI. Found out how they connected him to the murders.”

“Go on,” Trent’s voice was tight.

Colt looked at us, his jaw set. He straightened, his voice low. “He killed his mom.”

“What?” Trent’s voice cracked, his palms hitting the table with a loud bang.

Colt nodded. His lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah. She didn’t fit his usual victim type because of her age, but he did it the same way. Same signatures. He apparently was a little messier than usual too, and that’s what tipped them off.”

My mind struggled to keep up with the horror of it. “Why would he do that?” The question left my mouth before I could stop it.

Colt’s eyes were hard, distant. “She sent him to boarding school when he was a kid. Spent more time focusing on her career than being his mother. They think it was personal, not just another kill.”

“That’s… fucked up,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Colt’s gaze met mine. “And it gets worse. His patterns are changing. The newest victims all have a butterfly carved on their foot. No clue what it means yet.”

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