Page 40 of The Wolves Come at Night
“She is special,” Santiago said quietly. “She’ll die before she actually gets out. She lies fallow and then emerges from her chrysalis a completely different person. She’s brilliant and loyal, and sometimes unstable. She had a terrible tragedy when she was a young girl—she and her parents were ambushed in their car, shot to pieces. She was left for dead with their bodies. That shapes a girl, you know? She grew up too young. Too fast. Too bloody. She had no chance. We are made, people like us.”
“And you? You were ‘made’? What’s your story, Santi? How did you get involved with this group?”
“I’ll tell you another time, all right? I want you to hear all of it, but it’s a long story, and we’re nearly home. I think we’ve had enough revelations for one day.”
She turned her face to the window, to the yawning, unfamiliar darkness, and pretended not to be hurt.
Alan was at the house when they arrived, concern etched on his face, and the table set for dinner. Something in the back of her mind noted the smells coming from the kitchen, roast chicken and rosemary potatoes, one of her favorite meals, and while her stomach gnawed with emptiness, the idea of eating when Carson was missing, possibly dead—no, she wasn’t dead yet, Avery would feel that loss keenly, in her very bones—didn’t seem right.
Alan practically threw himself at Santiago. “Where have you two been? I’ve been worried sick since I got your text that you were taking a meeting.”
“DC,” Santi answered, giving him a brief kiss. “She’s here.”
“Oh.” Alan’s gaze grew thoughtful. “And she met with you both?”
“She did,” Avery said, “and I know. Not everything, but I know. You’ve all been lying to me, and I will hate you forever. When we find Carson, I never want to see either of you again.”
She stormed from the kitchen, leaving Alan and Santiago staring open-mouthed at the empty doorway.
Avery called Rory, relieved when he answered on the first ring.
“Mom. Have they found her?”
“No. Rory. Tell me they’re lying. Tell me you’re not—”
“Not on this line, Mom. Seriously. I’ll come home, we can talk when I get there. We’ll find her. I know we will.”
“Son of a bitch,” she screamed and hung up on him. She didn’t even bother Jules. She knew they were telling the truth, and it was going to break her in two.
Richard, working for some nefarious organization trying to save the world. Killed by a former teammate. Her sons co-opted into the same nonsense. And her daughter, her darling, sweet, shy daughter, kidnapped, in the hands of a mass murderer with no conscience and a twisted sense of humor.
This was all too unbelievable.
Avery had no idea what to do.
So she texted the detective from Nashville, who seemed like the only person in her life who hadn’t lost their goddamn mind.
We need to talk.
The cop got back to her immediately.
Give me five.
Avery sent back a note.
I’ve found out some things, but it’s not safe to talk on the phone. How can we have a conversation that’s secure?
…
Three dots. It reminded her too much of the night Carson went missing. She swallowed back the rising hysteria that threatened to engulf her. Finally, the screen filled with words.
Are you okay? I can come by the hotel and we can chat.
I’d prefer to speak like this.
Okay. My lieutenant will call you in a few, and he’s going to have you download an app that we can use for a private conversation. Hold tight.
“What are you doing?”
