Haunted by Secrets (Shadowed Souls #3)

Chapter Thirty Seven

Nixon stands before me, the same as he ever was. Tall, composed, and wearing a suit that probably costs more than a semester at Waversea. His tie is loose around his aging neck, his sleeves rolled up, as if this was just another business deal gone sour. His face, sharp and unreadable, betrays nothing. No remorse. No surprise. Not even satisfaction.

As if he didn’t just shove a woman off a fucking balcony. As if he’s just the resigned, unloving bastard who raised me to a standard I could never reach.

My mouth feels dry, my chest tight. I can’t decide what to focus on. The blood pounding in my skull, the way Avery’s fingers twitch like she’s fighting the urge to grab me, or the quiet calm on my once-father’s face.

For the first time in my life, I don’t know how to react. Sharon’s scream rings in my ears, cutting through the roaring in my head. Axel’s words from before replay in my mind. We’re not murderers. And that’s never been so apparent to me. I don’t know if I can really do whatever it takes to keep Avery safe, like I’ve been promising. The thought terrifies me.

“I hope you’re fucking happy,” Nixon growls, holding the flash drive in the air. He’s yet to address the fact that Avery is standing right beside me.

Unable to respond straight away, I just stare at the drive, dumbfounded. My body is frozen in a way it hasn’t been since I was a kid staring up at this same man, waiting for a term of endearment that won't come. He’s never loved me, and it’s never been as apparent as the way his face contorts into a scowl right now.

I feel Avery at my side, her breath shallow. Huxley is stock-still, his eyes unreadable as he watches Nixon like he’s assessing another predator. I should move. I should do something, but all I can do is stare. Because Nixon isn’t supposed to be here. Not at this auction. Not in this house. Not in this world I thought I built apart from him.

And yet, here he is.

Then, finally, Nixon huffs and pushes the drive into his pocket. He tugs his sleeves back down, fixes his cufflinks, and straightens his tie. It’s so fucking normal, so routine, that a sharp, bitter laugh bubbles up in my throat. It doesn’t make it past my lips. Instead, I hear my own voice, hoarse and disbelieving.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Nixon exhales sharply, as if I’m the one being unreasonable. “Cleaning up your mess, as per usual.” He tilts his head, studying me. “Do you even know how stupid you’ve been?”

I can’t breathe. My ribs feel like they’re caving in. A lifetime of memories surge forward, slamming into me like a freight train. The years of disappointment, the belittling I thought I’d come to terms with. Apparently, I haven’t. I’ve only buried them deep, deep down.

Nixon wasn’t abusive physically. Just withdrawn, cold, and hateful. It’s no wonder I didn’t understand what love was until Avery showed me.

“I believe you owe us an explanation,” Avery says with an air of composure, and the sound brings reality crashing back into focus. Sharon is dead. There’s a body lying in the courtyard and a house full of students beneath our feet. Someone is going to notice her soon. Straightening, I mimic the way Avery is facing Nixon, her shoulders back and chin raised. My respect for her shoots off the scale. Nixon looks at Avery at last, his pale eyes remaining hard.

“Sharon Barrett is a snake of a woman who exploits anyone she can,” Nixon grits out. No one attempts to tell him that Sharon isn’t anything anymore. “She didn’t leave me much choice when she reached out to blackmail me with a video of…” Nixon swallows, looking into a far corner. “You two.”

Avery draws in a sharp breath at the same time my stomach plummets. If Sharon has cameras in the ballroom, she must have had them all over the mansion, including the gym. This is why Nixon is being so cold with Avery, too.

“I thought I could trust you to protect her, Wyatt,” Nixon continues. “You’re her brother.” His disappointment is palpable, but I’m used to it. Used to this same argument.

“No, I’m not. I’ve been telling you for years. She is not my sister.”

“The world thinks differently,” Nixon snaps. Hux takes a microstep in front of Avery on instinct. If I wasn’t on high alert, refusing to show weakness, I’d thank him. Nixon rolls his neck, straightening even further to put us at the same height. “What would have happened if this footage got out to the press?”

“Your reputation would blow up in flames?” I suggest with a shrug.

“You’d both be arrested,” Nixon glares at me. “On paper, you are adoptive siblings. The circumstances don’t matter.”

I scoff at the injustice of it all. Avery and I have practically been strangers for years, regardless of my forged birth certificate and her false adoption back to her real mother. I’ve never lived with her until a few months ago, when Nixon moved her into Waversea.

But there’s no time to argue back and forth. If we don’t leave soon, we could be arrested for another crime entirely.

I turn to Avery and Hux, ignoring Nixon’s presence behind me.

“We need to get out of here. Axel should already be in the minibus, and we have Fredrick’s address,” I say urgently, cutting through the haze of unaddressed shock lingering in the room. Nixon tries to interrupt, contesting going to Fredrick’s house, but I don’t give a fuck what he thinks. I’m here trying to fix the mess he’s been creating for years.

Instead, I grab Avery’s hands and implore her to only look at me.

“Richard is going to pin this on us, especially if he knows about the camera footage. If we’re sitting in a police cell, who will protect Axel? Who’s going to save Meg?”

Her breath hitches. There it is. That sharp clarity slicing through the fog, pulling her back to me. Avery doesn’t hesitate when it comes to the people she loves .

She nods once. That’s all I need. Our bodies press together. Hux ushering us along with hurried movements. We push toward the door, the urgency in our steps mirroring the panic crackling in the air. But just as we cross the threshold, Avery jerks to a stop. I tug her forward, but she resists, her entire body going rigid. Turning, she holds her hand out to Nixon.

“The flash drive,” she demands. Her tone is laced with ice, any affection she felt towards Nixon is now a distant memory. He’s failed in so many ways, but threatening to separate us has sealed the deal. When he refuses, I step closer to her back, a solid show of support.

“Give it to her.”

There’s a flicker in Nixon’s expression. It puts me on edge, this version of him that sees straight through me, peeling back every layer until there’s nothing left to hide. He knows exactly what I want with Avery. He always has. It was foolish to think I could send so many love letters to the manor without someone else reading them. I just don’t know how long he’s been aware.

It’s why he pulled me from Rachel’s house and took me to the safe house. Why he trusted me to protect her above all others. Ironic, since he was the one who pushed me away from her in the first place. But none of that matters. There’s no going back now. I’m staking my claim, and nothing, not even Nixon, is going to stand in my way.

His lips curl into something resembling a sneer as he steps forward and pushes the flash drive into Avery’s hand, his eyes locked on me with a deadly promise. “When you get both of the girls killed,” he says smoothly, voice dripping with cold certainty, “I’m coming for you.”

Avery presses back against my chest, either testing my resolve or to provide relief. It doesn’t matter; I’m good. I’ve been building up to facing Nixon my entire life. Unflinching, I hold his steady gaze.

“And when both of them are safe, I’m exposing you for the fraud you are.” It’s not worth mentioning anything about Sharon lying dead in the courtyard. I don’t care for her death, and on a base level, whether Nixon only came here to get the blackmail footage or to protect Avery, it's one less thing to worry about. Not that I’ll be thanking him anytime soon. Instead, I tilt my head, my eyes narrowing.

“There’s not enough room in this world for both of us.” A smirk twitches at the corner of my lips as I step back, guiding Avery with me. “Don’t get too comfortable, Nixon.”

We race through the mansion's empty hallways and slow to a casual stroll when anyone passes. I'm on high alert, listening out for the moment someone discovers Sharon, and the longer that passes, the more I’m wondering why it hasn’t happened yet.

The night air is thick with tension as we push through the last set of doors and step onto the mansion’s long driveway. Gravel crunches beneath our hurried footsteps, the distant murmur of the remaining guests inside a stark contrast to the storm brewing beneath my skin. I’m driven by a need to protect those I love, blocking out all other noise.

The minibus is parked just beyond the stone fountain, its headlights slicing through the darkness. The side door is already open, Garrett leaning against it like he’s been keeping watch, arms crossed over his chest. Beside him, Thiago fidgets, adjusting the strap of his laptop bag.

“I wiped all of my traces; no one will know I was there.” Thiago says as soon as he sees me, his tone clipped. His sharp, pale eyes flick to Avery. I don’t know what he’s seeing through her stern exterior, but it’s something long enough to linger until she’s ducked into the minibus.

I follow, taking a quick headcount. Dax is up front in the passenger seat, his legs sprawled wide, and his phone in hand. Axel is stretched out across the back seat, propped up by a makeshift barricade of duffel bags and pillows, his eyes closed but his breathing even. The only person who looks as pissed off as I feel is Dr. Marcus, perched on the seat in front of Axel, arms folded and jaw tight. His hair is slightly disheveled, and his gaze tracks me like I’m the one responsible for ruining his night.

“I do not appreciate being bossed around. I need to speak to my employer about this.” I pat Garrett’s shoulder, jerking my head to get in whilst stewing on an answer for the Doc. There’s no way I can announce his employer is dead, so I settle on a different truth.

“Axel is your patient.” I snap, yanking the door closed behind me. “You work for him, and you go where he goes.” The doctor exhales through his nose, fingers tapping against his bicep.

“Moving Axel right now isn’t ideal. He’s stable, but travel could set him back.” I grit my teeth, dragging a hand through my hair. When I initially decided we needed to leave, it was with the threat of Fredrick hanging over us. Now, there’s a twisted tale of blackmail and murder waiting in that mansion, and we do not have the time to sit around and wait for the cops to come and interrogate us.

“Not moving him is worse,” I say bluntly. Dr. Marcus doesn’t argue; he just sighs and leans back against the seat, muttering under his breath.

“Alright,” Huxley says, sliding into the driver’s seat and gripping the wheel like he’s ready to punch the gas. “What’s the plan?”

I drop into the seat beside Avery, yanking the tiny piece of paper from my pocket. Handing it to Thiago, I tell him to search for available hangers to which we can get Huxley’s jet chartered. Thiago nods, already pulling out his laptop, but before he can type a damn thing, the doctor jerks upright in his seat, like I just suggested throwing Axel out mid-flight.

“Absolutely not.”

I turn to level him with a glare, already too wired for an argument. “We’ll go slow. Take it at Axel’s pace.”

“No,” Doc Marcus snaps, his tone cutting through the tense air. “Axel physically can’t fly for at least three weeks, and only then after an x-ray shows his pneumothorax is fully healed. It’s too risky otherwise, and all of his progress could be undone.”

Axel groans just then, his hands covering his ears, most likely getting a headache from being manhandled out of his room and shoved into a compact minibus. Garrett rushes to his side, skidding onto the floor between the seats and out of view.

Beside me, Avery reaches up and places her hand on my chest. “Wyatt, we can’t sit here any longer,” she whispers. I don’t have time to react, to even think, before Huxley interrupts again.

“Where am I going here, Wyatt?” he calls urgently, fingers drumming impatiently against the steering wheel and his eyes piercing mine through the rearview mirror. I press my knuckles against my brow, forcing myself to stay calm. Everyone is counting on me not to crack, not to fail. For the first time, we have a location for Meg, and she’s waiting to be rescued, but Axel’s not going anywhere fast.

“Drive for a while,” I order, jaw tight. “Thiago, find a motel where no one would think to look for us. We can plan together in the morning.”

No one argues, knowing we don’t have a better option right now. However, my harsh tone causes Avery to retreat because she knows I’m being forced to choose between Axel and Meg once again. I drape my arm over the back of her seat and pull her into me, needing to feel her warmth through the bitter cold seeping into my bones.

The engine rumbles to life, and as we pull away from the mansion, I glance over my shoulder one last time. Somewhere in that house, Nixon is watching. Somewhere out there, Fredrick Walters is waiting. And I have no fucking idea what’s going to happen next.