Haunted by Secrets (Shadowed Souls #3)

Chapter Forty Two

Somehow, by the grace of a calming tone and a dash of good sense, I convince everyone to pile into the minibus and head to an empty diner down the road. The neon sign outside flashes that the establishment is open twenty-four hours, but judging by the grimace of the lone employee behind the counter, it is not.

The seven of us enter, announced by the ring of a bell over the door, and instantly descend to a long, rectangular table. My cousin opens his laptop, his fingers flying over the keys to bring up news reports that have begun popping up all over the internet. Avery sits beside him, quietly entranced, as I order six coffees and a chocolate milkshake. If looks could kill, the middle-aged man in a pinstripe uniform and apron would have just flayed me on the spot.

I glance over at the table, witnessing the dynamic as an outsider. Garrett paws at Axel, stroking his neck and shoulder, sitting flush to his side whilst Axel remains stoic, his jaw clenched. Hux is drumming his fingers on the table and glaring at Wyatt, who is distracted by the phone in his hand. He gave us a quick rundown about the ransom request in the minibus, but that conversation isn’t as done as he probably hopes it is.

At least we’re out of the dank motel rooms. A change of scenery and an injection of caffeine will do wonders for us all. Some of us are running on minimal sleep and empty stomachs. I become this evening’s waiter, handing out steaming mugs two at a time. I’d attempt to carry them all on a tray, but I still don’t trust my fingers to hold up under the strain.

Placing Huxley’s down in front of him, he snatches it aside, spilling the boiling liquid over the table and his hand, although he isn’t phased. He’s too busy being pissed at the side of Wyatt’s head while I grab some napkins and clean up around him.

“There’s no use holding a grudge,” I mutter in Hux’s ear. “He’s not even aware that you’re mad.”

“Then maybe I should tell him,” Hux grips the table’s edge. He is about to stand, but I quickly plant my hand on his shoulder.

“Another time.” I give him a lingering look until he grunts and nods. Where I’m just happy that the boys are back safe, even though they didn’t storm in like the heroes they were hoping to be, Huxley has picked a personal vendetta with Wyatt for not taking him along, too.

I found him outside, kicking the vending machine just after we’d realized Wyatt was missing, ranting that he’s a much better choice. That he is far more level-headed and tough, that he’s been really trying to eat and bulk up for this exact reason. I can’t quite decide if Hux is livid that Wyatt deemed him unfit to go or that Garrett was chosen above him.

Leaving Hux to settle, I take my coffee and Avery’s milkshake from where they’ve been left on the counter and sit on her other side. She doesn’t look over, too engrossed in the laptop, but her hand reaches out seeking mine. I lean over her shoulder, peering at the multiple windows littering the screen.

Each one mimics another, a small tweak to the news headlines and camera angle of the house. It's an ordinary, quaint house on a nice street, with a white picket fence and porch. All of this is illuminated by red and blue flashing lights and surrounded by police tape. The photo in the top left corner of the screen shows the ENTs wheeling out a black body bag.

‘'Police were called following a reported disturbance and found the body of a man suspected to be convicted felon, Fredrick O’Hare. No one else was discovered at the property, although there are signs of a struggle and hair belonging to an unidentified female.’

I stare at the words on the screen, the glow of the laptop casting harsh shadows across Avery’s face. She’s deathly still, but when I glance down at our joined hands, I notice the slight tremor in her fingers and how she grips me tighter, like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded.

A droplet of water splashes against my coffee-colored skin. Another tear slips down her cheek, silent and slow, catching the light for half a second before disappearing beneath her chin. She doesn’t sniffle. Doesn’t make a sound. She just stares, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something softer, something that doesn’t mean what they clearly do.

Meg was there. We were too late. My chest tightens as another tear falls. I don’t think she even realizes it’s happening.

“Aves.” I whisper her name, barely more than a breath, but she doesn’t respond. Her lips are parted, her shoulders curled in. She’s not present anymore; she's lost in the depths of everything she’s been holding in. Everything she’s been so desperately trying to hold together for both our sakes and her own.

I reach out and close the laptop. Her breath hitches, the light abruptly cuts off, and the words are gone. But she still doesn’t move.

“Hey Swan. I forgot my sweetener. Come with me?” I try again. She nods now, hiding her face behind the curtain of her hair as we stand. I take her hand, gently tugging her past empty booths and sticky tables. She follows, silent and pliant like she doesn’t have the energy to resist.

By a self-service counter, I pull her into my arms and rest my chin on her head. She instantly sags, her body succumbing to the tears she was desperately trying to hold back. If the others have noticed, they leave us to ourselves. We’re ghosts in the background of their exhaustion, their fraying tempers, and their forgotten coffees.

Avery’s hands slip beneath my shirt to hold my waist, craving skin-to-skin contact. A barely-there sound escapes her lips. Half a sob, half a breath. I rub slow, soothing circles into her back, letting her cry, letting her break. Muttering low words, I promise to never let go. It’s the only thing I can say with my whole heart, and I know I won’t fail her.

In a very short space of time, it’s become glaringly apparent that Avery is the love of my life. The woman I was meant to find, the reason that all of my life experiences have made me who I am today. I was so ready to slip into this role, even before I knew her. I was ready to love and give a part of myself to someone else, and she appeared right on cue. She’s my soulmate.

It’s in the way my chest tightens when she hurts, the way my world shifts to orbit hers without question. She is mine, in whatever form she comes in. Fire and fury, softness and sorrow. If she needs me as a friend, I will stand beside her. If she needs me as a soldier, I will fight for her. And if she ever lets me love her the way I want to, the way I ache to, then I will never, never let her go. That’s the easiest promise I’ve ever made.

After a short while, shorter than I expected, Avery’s breath shudders, and she straightens. A hardness falls over her features, and right before my eyes, she builds herself back up, brick by brick. I almost tell her she doesn’t need to be strong, that I can carry her for a while longer, but she’s not putting on a front for me. She’s doing it for herself, to protect her heart from the pain.

“We’re back to square one,” Avery hiccups, her face tight and wet. “I-I just want her back. I need to know what’s happening to her.”

“I know, Swan.”

“It’s been weeks, Dax,” Avery’s brows flicker into a scowl. She wipes it away just as quickly, but I stroke my thumb over her cheek. She’s mad, and that’s understandable. We’re all mad, but we handle ourselves in different ways. To me, shouting and punching things won’t change the facts. Blaming each other won’t help us to work together. So I sit back and assess, stepping in for emotional support when needed. And right now, Avery needs reassurance.

“We’ll keep looking for as long as it takes.” Her watery blue eyes shoot up to mine. My entire world is held within their ocean depths, and although I wish I could offer her more, I refuse to lie. I can’t promise that we’ll find Meg. I can’t tell her everything will be okay. I just hold her steady until her shaking slows and her breathing evens out.

I’m in awe of her resolve. Time after time, Avery refuses to break. She inspires me to do the same—to be the man she needs and that the others can’t quite manage to be through no fault of their own. We all bring something different to the table, and I’m okay with that. Avery deserves it all.

“Guys, the text has come in,” Wyatt calls across the diner. Avery’s feet are moving before I’ve had a chance to let her go, leaving me stumbling on air. I follow the blonde flash, planting myself back in the chair where my mug still sits. Rather than take my side, Avery rounds the table and crawls into Huxley’s lap. His brows raise, the grinding of his jaw taking a break. She grabs at his arms, drawing them around herself like a suit of armor, and nods to Wyatt.

“ Harbor Bridge Casino, Friday at seven. Avery comes alone.” Wyatt reads out loud, tossing the phone across the table to prove that’s all the text says. Axel runs a hand over his shaved head, and Garrett at his side goes still. I watch Avery closely, but she doesn’t give anything away. She’s resigned to the fact that we have five days to wait. Five days to plan and prepare. Five days to argue about the fact Avery is absolutely not going anywhere alone.

My cousin, who happens to be the only one who actually drank his coffee and is on full alert, cracks his fingers loudly.

“I’ll get on tracking the number and pulling everything I can on the sender. The casino will have blueprints and a surveillance system we can use. Give me a day or two and I’ll have everything—” Thi is cut off by the scraping of Wyatt’s chair. It pierces the air like the slice of a blade, cutting through the growing tension.

“Where are you going?” Huxley demands, his face nestled against Avery’s. Wyatt waves his hand through the air, disregarding us all in one swoop.

“I haven’t slept in days, and we won’t solve anything else tonight. I’m going to bed.” And one by one, we concede to do the same, starting to leave the diner. I pause at the door while the rest of the Souls assist Axel into the minibus to peer back at Thiago.

“You coming?” I ask, seeing that he hasn’t moved from his seat. He has, however, reached across to grab the rest of the mugs and drag them closer to himself. He snorts, opening his laptop back up.

“Are you kidding? I’ve got a new project, a twenty-four-hour diner, and Wyatt’s credit card details. Come pick me up in five days.” I shake my head, not doubting my cousin’s excitement for a second. He enjoys nothing more than getting his teeth into his coding. The more illegal, the better.

I climb back into the minibus, settling beside an already-asleep Wyatt, his head lolled back against the seat. Now he’s been given a small window of reprieve; it’s allowed him to settle at last. Avery is in a cuddle puddle with Axel and Garrett, the latter clinging on from the outside like an unwanted koala. Huxley drives us out of the parking lot, and I give a small wave to the Brazilian who has relocated into a booth, a fresh mug in hand and a relaxed smile on his face.

Well, at least Thiago is happy.