Page 10 of Adored By Them
He purses his lips, stubborn for a moment.Then he nods and trots back to his muscle car for the drive to the station.
Edmund quietly stares Grinnote down when we park on the street and watch him go inside.
“Do you think we need to go in after him?”I ask.
“Not if he knows what’s good for him.”
We wait in silence.Several minutes go by.I’m exhausted but unable to relax.When my phone buzzes with a text, Edmund and I both jump in our seats.
“It’s Grinnote’s burner.”I open the message.
I got something.
He’s taken video footage of a computer screen, so it’s not very clear.
But one thing is clear.The man in the video—the guy at the back of the church, gesturing someone out of the building—someone who is holding a limp bride, obviously Dani—is Darryl Scollins.
I watch, unable to breathe, as the stranger hauls Dani out of the video frame.Scollins leans back against the church building like nothing fucking happened.
He just let themtake her?Like that?
“Play it again.”Edmund’s voice is low.“Never mind, I don’t need to see it.Forget calling Scollins.We need to find out where that fucker lives.”
“Morraine will know.”I text Caleb.
Caleb writes back almost immediately.He lives in the Bellefleur.Why?
I growl.Why do I need to explain shit?He knows something.Where exactly does he live?
Caleb takes his sweet-ass time to respond.He’s probably looking up the address, but I’m ready to put the truck in gear and get the fuck over to Scollins’s place.
Finally the address comes in.
Edmund recites it.“Go.”
He didn’t have to say a fucking word.I’m already speeding us away.
* * *
Danica
I tell myself stories.Stories where my legs extend like rubber and I can hook the utility knife with my foot.Stories where I drag the knife over, maneuver it to my hands, and cut the ropes that bind me.Stories where I wield the knife like a sword, and Dead-Eyes Uriel cowers before me, skittering off like a spider in search of a shadowy rock.
Other stories fill my head as well.Stories where I walk down that aisle in my beautiful bridal gown.Stories where I say, “I do,” and Edmund smiles, wicked green eyes glowing with heat, as he takes me in a kiss so hot it sets the church on fire.Stories where Troy takes his place for a second kiss, and the three of us are united forever.
Impossible.Each story is impossible.Hopelessness chases every story as it plays out.It’s a fucked-up kind of torture when the story that offers comfort also kills that comfort.
Someone’s here—outside my office.I hear something being dragged, and footsteps.They’re getting closer.
Just as the door swings open, I drop my head to look like I’m sleeping.I peer through my eyelashes as a man—Uriel, probably—drags in a second man.
I don’t want to know what he’s doing.I don’t want to know.
I have to know.
I continue watching, my heart pounding in fear.
Uriel hums under his breath.The droll melody reminds me of a church hymn.He hauls the other man into the chair next to mine.
