Page 168 of Soul So Dark
The most recent ones are selfies of Colson and a girl with a pile of strawberry blonde curls tied in a bun at the top of her head. This must be Brett Sorensen. Her cheek is pressed against his and she has a radiant smile that makes her hazel eyes pop. I wonder if she drank battery acid or primordial ooze from a sewer pipe when she was a kid, too. Regardless, she looks ecstatic to be sitting next to my brother. Quickly, I send the picture to my phone and then delete it from the text history.
Then I notice the rest of the pictures, and I’m not sure whether to be excited that I found her or horrified that Colson was telling the truth. There must be at least 100 photos of Brett. Brett standing next to a tree, Brett sitting at a table eating, Brett sitting in class—a lotof Brett sitting in class—Brett standing at her car, Brett with a group of girls, Brett in the library, Brett walking through campus…
The photos of Brett end on a picture of her standing among a crowd of people, probably at a party. But the ones taken after that give me pause. There’s one that looks like it’s being taken through a large window covered by a sheer curtain. She’s standing at a dresser with her hair wrapped in a towel…and she’s naked.
No, he didn’t.
In the next one, Brett’s still partially obscured by the curtains, but she’s lying in bed looking at her phone. The next ones are much darker. These were taken inside the room. There’s one from up above while Brett sleeps on her side and another looking straight on.
The last image has a different icon on it—a video.
I glance around the corner at Colson still asleep on the sofa and make sure the sound is off before playing. It’s from the same viewpoint as the photo, except now I can see Brett’s shoulder gently rise and fall with each breath. Slowly, Colson’s hand comes into frame and he gently brushes the stray curls out of her face with his fingertips. My eyes round and my mouth opens as I watch her eyes flutter open, stare at him for a few seconds, and then close again as she drifts off.
My hands shaking, I close out of all the apps on his phone and quickly replace it on the living room side table. I’ve seen all I need to see. Once I’m safely back upstairs in my room, I’m compelled to send a text of my own. Laying in my bed, my eyes blurry with tears, my thumbs peck at the glass in search of validations that don’t exist.
ME (11:21PM): Are you still coming to GalactiCon?
I don’t know where AJ lives, but I don’t expect him to answer right away. After casually finding out that Alex is dead, killed somewhere on the other side of the world, I have to talk to someone. And, to my surprise, my phone vibrates with a response a few minutes later.
AJ (11:26PM): Absolutely
ME (11:26PM): There are a lot of things I need to tell you and I wish I could right now. It would be so much better if I could tell you everything.
AJ (11:28PM): You know I’m here for you, Ry. Why can’t you tell me now?
Maybe because I still don’t know who I can trust. And right now, I want to be able to trust AJ more than anything. I snapped at Colson about Austin because part of me still wants to hold onto the “before” Dallas. But there’s only now, and that’s the only part of me that AJ knows—the tiny details that compriseme,and not just a name or face. And, for some reason, that puts him on another level. And I’m going to need someone like him, who understandsme,if I’m going to do what I’m about to do.
I wish I could forget about Bowen Garrison. I wish I could forget everything. But the only thing that’s keeping me sane is pure vengeance. If I stop, I’m afraid I’ll lose myself and I’ll never be able to come back. Colson never forgot, and neither can I.
I never wanted to admit it, but Colson and I share a lot more than parents. We’re very different, but also very much the same in ways that I never understood until now. And maybe now’s not the time to fight genetics. The reality is that I can’t do this without Colson. I can’t do this all by myself, even with Aiden’s clandestine surveillance and bad attitude. I need someone with as much of a stake in this as me.
And this woman, Brett—my brother’s obsession—is my only hope. There can’t be anyone else on this earth who would think what Colson did was remotely appealing. But, for some reason, she did. And maybe she still does. There has to be something different woven into the fabric of her being that clicks with Colson’s deviance and utter irreverence. There has to be a reason that she’s the only woman who can bring my brother to his knees.
And because of that, she’s also the only one who can bring my brother back home.
So, am I really going to offer her up like a sacrifice? Am I going to help my brother hunt this woman like an elk on this mountain being tracked by a wolfpack?
Yes. I am.
Because before I offer up Brett Sorensen as tribute to my brother—the wolf—I need to find her.
I will search for her, I will find her, and I will bring both of them back home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Alex
“Feels like old times, huh?” Aiden guns the engine of his Lexus.
There’s a reason I moved into an apartment in the city when I came back to the states. I thought it would be weird coming back to Dire Ridge after so long. I’ve changed, just like I wanted to, but that guarantees I can never pick up where I left off. Fortunately, Aiden’s still the same, so when I told him I needed his help checking in on an old friend, he was happy to oblige.
“Old times, but with more artillery,” I reply as Aiden slingshots around a tight curve.
“That’s what I like to hear. Where’s our boy hanging out tonight?”
I lean forward and tuck my P320-M18 in its holster. It’s not my usual M18, but the civilian version works well enough. I’ve carried the same sidearm for six years and it was too off-putting to pick up the Beretta packed away at my house.
“Some place in Canaan called the Well.”
