Page 76 of Debt of My Soul

Careful not to wake her, I slow, my hand reaching for the door handle.

Whimpers sift through the door, oscillating between short bursts of sobs and long angry-sounding squalls. As if I’ve been punched in the chest, I struggle to suck in a breath and back away from the door. I can’t do this—listen to her cry.

I turn on my heels and nearly trip down the porch steps as I bound into the woods. I want to run, but I fight the instinct and merge into a jog instead. My heavy boots crunch over twigs and scuffle through pine needles scattered in the dirt as I make my way to a substantial oak tree and press my back against its sturdy trunk.

I’ve lost so much. Givenso much. Probably taken from too many innocents as well, Fleur being the most recent victim. I hate who I am and who I’ve had to become to make this happen.

The rough bark bites into my back as I slide down, unconcerned as it scrapes against my leather jacket.

Her face.

Fleur’s face, red and agonized, as I caused her physical pain tonight pummels me one disturbing image after another. It’snothing new for me, inflicting pain. I’ve done it before, but with her, it’s affecting me differently. I want to burn this place to the ground.

Jerking my phone from my jacket pocket, I quickly check I’m alone and turn it on. Furiously, I type out the message that’s been screaming in my mind since I met Fleur. Since she came into my life at a high rate of speed, plowing into me and jostling me off my own track.

Me: I can’t do this anymore.

W: You must.

Chapter 30

Liam

3.5 Years Ago

There’s no absolution for someone like me. Not after what I’ve witnessed—had to stand by and watch.

My truck halts to a stop on the road and I scramble to open the door fast enough before the bile in my throat turns to vomit. I upheave the entire day’s worth of food into the ditch on the side of the road. Leaves stick to my sleeves as I push myself up from my buckled position on the ground.

Dragging my sleeve across my mouth, I clamber back in my truck and continue on my path to the bed-and-breakfast. If there’s anyone who can help me it’s my grandfather.

His history as a state trooper was part of the reason I had decided on the police academy over a year ago. When I was a young boy, he often sat us all down recounting stories of his time and the opportunities he had to be a light for people, serve people. While Adam and my sister may have viewed them as only stories, I took it as a calling. I longed to serve as my grandfather did. Protect innocent life, those who can’t protect themselves.

I snort.

This is the exact opposite of that. The charred corpse rotting in the secluded clearing near a field assures me I’ve failed in my mission.

In search of guidance, I pull into my grandparents’ driveway littered with fallen leaves from the oak trees out front. I yank the door open and climb out, careful to slink close to the house and let myself in through the back. The last thing I need is for Darrin to know it was me who ratted them out.

I find my grandfather flipping through a seed catalog at the kitchen table, a hot mug of cider in his hand. I’d been so distracted with leaving my place in a rush, I forgot a coat, and I’m immediately aware of how chilled I am approaching my grandfather.

“Hey, Son. What are you doing here?” Noting my ashen face, he adds, “A-are you all right?”

Worry flickers in his eyes at my disheveled state. I manipulate a chair closer, swinging a leg over it and leaning my forearms on the back while facing him.

“I need your help.”

“You were at the police academy when you were called home to help with your brother?” Agent Wilson asks.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been taking his place working for Darrin to save his ass?”

“Yes.”

“Some brother you are, man.”

I grunt, worried that I made a mistake having my grandfather reach out to his former trooper buddies and get me in touch with the DEA. Agent Wilson comes across as the washed-up surfer dude who dropped out of college in favor of catching the next best wave. His long blond hair, almost white, is epically glaring, and I itch to push my sunglasses down over my face to shield myself.

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