Page 144 of Unveil
I almost mouth off, but there’s something in him, on edge,desperate, and it makes me answer him seriously.
“My birthday,” I admit.
“Fuck.” One hand yanks off his worn cap, crumpling it while the other drags through his two-toned hair, and he paces, muttering to himself, “She would’ve called you once you got back. Sol told her, so she would’ve found out, unless she heard about what went down at Whitby Rose first… and then there’s her cat…”
His voice trails off, talking about cat food, how long since she’s been home, how his cameras aren’t?—
He slams his fist against the doorframe, and the cap he’d been abusing slips from his hand and falls to the ground.
“Fuck, fuck,fuck.”
“What?” I breathe. “What is it?”
His face crumples. He stumbles back, hitting the frame hard, then slides down in defeat.
“Hatton, man, what’s going on?” Orion demands.
“She’s gone,” he says flatly, voice raw. He swallows like it physically hurts before his eyes meet mine. “Lucy’s missing.”
Six months later
We gave Benoit a Second Line that rivaled Mardi Gras on Bourbon Street. Then we buried him between Madam G and the memorial to his parents in St. Louis Cemetery No. 2. Exactly where he’d want to be.
“I’m going home.”
Even now, six months later, the memory of his peaceful smile before he took his last breath comes too fast. But here, standing inside the cabin again, I don’t feel the guilt, rage, or shame like a hot poker in my chest. It’s still an ember. It probably always will be.
But time has healed me enough to let something soothing settle in too.
I’m proud I knew him. Thankful I was there for his final breaths. And grateful that Orion brought me back here one last time to truly say goodbye.
The pool of blood that soaked into the floor is gone. Each board has been sanded so smooth you can’t tell where Benoit bled out in my arms.
I have no doubt Orion did that in anticipation of bringing me back here. He knows no amount of healing could ever make me brave enough to see the shape of my friend’s death stained in the wood.
I lightly kiss my fingers then place them on the spot where I laid his head.
“Rest, dear friend, forevermore.”
I sit back on my heels and sigh, letting go of as much grief as I can after everything that’s happened since.
The Troisgarde doesn’t sleep, investigating who betrayed them while fending off attacks from Wildes and rogue Furys that get more dangerous by the day.
And Lucy? We still haven’t found her. Six months have passed, and still, nothing. All we know is she withdrew a large amount of cash from her account, hasn’t used her cards since, and she left her cat enough food to survive for a week—as if it’d take us that long to realize she was gone. It didn’t even take Hatch an hour.
We’re operating under the hope that my kidnapping was so triggering, she had no choice but to run. She’s so good at hiding, I doubt we’ll ever find her, not unless she wants to be found. She’s probably safer that way. The war is worse than ever, and Brylie suffered the most.
Does Lucy know?
If she did, nothing would’ve kept her from coming back. I have to believe she has no idea, because the alternative, that she knew andcouldn’tcome back, is too much to bear.
I haven’t gone home since Benoit’s funeral. Dad doesn’t want me to take so much as a single step off Fury land. Not without Orion.
If only they’d made that rule before Brylie.
My eyes slam closed. I can’t think about her. Not here. Not when our friend’s finally at rest.
I quickly swipe my eyes and blow out a harsh breath.
