Page 118 of Debt of My Soul

Iadd the last item to the bottom of my list. With the fall weather finally starting to set in, longer pants and shirts are definitely on there.

While tidying up, I daydream about all the fall farmer’s markets, pumpkin patches, and hot apple cider Mrs. Northgate let me sample one afternoon as she was perfecting her recipe.

The idea of Liam taking me on bike rides through the Trace while the changing leaves dust the pavement makes my heart skip with giddiness.

For the first time in a while, I’m genuinely happy.

A faint blast sounds from somewhere in the compound, and I frown wondering if one of the trucks had a container slip from its twist locks while loading. I peek out of the front window, not seeing large shipping trucks. Typically, the compound is running trucks late at night so midafternoon would be out.

Backing away from the window, I fluff the couch pillow and glance around the room. Pounding from next door distracts me and about halfway to the other window, a pounding on my door interrupts.

I veer toward the door, opening it to find a man clad in black tactical gear. A helmet is strapped securely to his head, a holster fastened around his thigh, and a long rifle slung over his shoulder. None of that matters, though, because stamped across the black heavy vest are yellow letters that read DEA POLICE.

Instinctively, I back away. Over the man’s shoulder, droves of DEA police officers pillage the cabins, pulling men out one after another and handcuffing them.

“Ma’am. I need you to come with me.”

I take another step back. No, no, no. I can’t. Where’s Liam?

A man who yells across the pathway is tazed by an agent as he tries to run away.

I need to find Liam.

The man steps forward. “Ma’am, this isn’t a request. I’ve been instructed to bring you in.”

“I-I can’t. I need to find someone.”Please let me find him.

I have to make sure they know he saved my life, that he isn’t like the others. He did this for his brother.

“Ma’am.” The agent’s voice is growing agitated, and he steps forward again, reaching for my arm.

Panic pumps through me and I pull away, only to have his hand clamp down and pull me out of the house. His green eyes clash with mine and I glare at him, clawing at where he holds my arm.

I’m naturally a rule follower, adon’t rock the boatperson. I drive the speed limit. I’ve never done drugs. Heck, I respect law enforcement, but right now I want to punch this agent in the face.

I’m dragged down the cabin steps but turn back, watching the door sway in the wind—it’s not even closed. I have a sinking feeling I’ll never see the inside of it again.

Another home ripped away.

Several packers and dealers are pushed to the ground, handcuffed, and lined up against the side of the warehouse. Roe, I recognize, is crying, pleading with another agent and he points to a spot on the ground for her to sit.

I squint at the sun hovering behind the clouds and want to shout for Liam. I haven’t seen him among the others, nor have I spotted Blitz or Darrin either.

“Sit here, please, ma’am.” The agent holding my arms guides me into the circle of mostly women.

“Please, I just need?—”

“Sit.”

I glare at the man again and huff out a sigh while folding my legs to sit. Several agents stand around the group of us sitting here, weapons pulled out and surveying the area. Teams of four raid cabins while a larger group exits the clubhouse.

“Have you seen Darrin?” I whisper to Roe, who has not stopped crying.

She shakes her head. “No. Last I heard, they had a meeting in the warehouse.” She sniffles.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” I ask. Because I’m unsure why she is so worked up.

“Assholes confiscated my stash.” Roe glares at one of the agents and I blink.

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