Page 189 of Without a Trace
“She’s not far,” I said quietly.
“No. But she’s going somewhere she won’t come back the same.”
Alden’s voice cracked just enough to sting.
I clenched my jaw, looked out toward the tree line.
“Do you think she knows?” I asked. “About him?”
Alden’s silence was answer enough.
I kept going.
“She’s been dreaming. Asking questions. Digging.” My hand curled into a fist at my side, nails biting into skin. I didn’t even realize I was shaking until I felt the tension crawl up my arm.
“Brielle didn’t take her. She brought her.”
“Back to the beginning,” Alden said. “To the truth.”
“To the man she was told was dead.”
“To her father.”
The words hit harder when he said them out loud.
We both turned then, eyes fixed on the horizon like we could see past it.
“She’s going to him,” I said. “She wants answers.”
“She wants blood.”
I looked at him. “So do I.”
Alden glanced down the shoreline like she might still be out there, barefoot and wild, slipping just out of reach. “Then we find her.”
“No matter what it takes.”
A slow breath passed between us.
And in that moment, it wasn’t just two men bonded to the same girl.
It was two parts of a broken line, ready to burn the whole thing down just to bring her home.
Scarlett
The car slowed just before the gates, and for a second, I thought Brielle might make some sarcastic comment to break the silence. But she didn’t. Maybe even she knew this place didn’t call for words.
The gates were iron—tall, ornate, wrapped in black vines that looked like they’d been swallowing the metal for decades. Carved into the arch above was a symbol I didn’t recognize, but something about it made my chest tighten. A veiled eye, dagger through the center.
I hated how much it looked like something that belonged to me.
The gravel beneath the tires crackled as we moved forward, winding through a path of overgrown trees, stone walls, and looming statues of animals that weren’t quite right—eyes too sharp, mouths curled into something between a snarl and a smile. I rolled down the window despite the chill. The air smelled like ash and jasmine. Wild and wrong.
And then I saw it.
The estate.
It wasn’t just big—it was sprawling. Built from black stone and wild ivy and secrets, like it had grown out of the earth itself. It looked more like a fortress than a home, with jagged edges and towers that scraped the sky. Gargoyles watched from the highest points. A lantern flickered near the arched doorway, casting shadows that danced like ghosts.
