Chapter 42
C onnor
From a lamppost on the riverbank path, a body swung by its feet. Alisha. Oh fucking God, no.
I threw myself down the incline to the path and scrambled to her, her head and shoulders at the height of my own, but inverted and facing the water. Reaching out, I cradled her, turned her.
Desperate hope iced over into freezing shock.
It was too late.
A red gash tore through her throat. Not a neat line like with Natasha, but a hack to the bone.
At my side, Arran howled in anguish.
“Get her down.” My words came out choked.
Above us, on the cobbled boulevard that led from the warehouse all the way into the centre of town, the crew members who’d run with us spoke her name.
“It’s Alisha.”
“Murdered like the others.”
Their horrified whispers filled with pity. Some echoed the anger suspended inside me.
Then one of the men hollered out. “Shade, some fucker with a camera crew is coming down. The cops are right behind.”
I managed to find words through my despair. “Hold the cameras back. Let Kenney through if he’s here.”
In my arms, Alisha was cold.
Arran sliced through the rope, and I lowered her to the ground, stripping my jacket to cover her form, as if it could repair the shredding of her dignity. Of her life. As if we could do anything for her now. We should have taken better care of her.
Alisha had been one of us, and now she was gone.
Everything that happened next seemed to move in slow motion. Arran took control, disarming me and also himself, with a crewmember sneaking our weapons away a second ahead of a uniform appearing in my peripheral vision. He ordered everyone else to melt into the shadows then get back inside by the rear exit.
Chief Constable Kenney griped at us for cutting her down, but his tone held sympathy as well, and he snarled at the camera crew who’d forced their way closer.
We backed away. They gave us no choice.
The scene was cordoned off and a white tent erected. Arran and I were taken to the station to give evidence. Not a first for either of us, but never on behalf of someone we cared about.
All I could think about was our last conversation, where she’d been wistful and I’d only been distracted. If I’d listened properly, this might not have happened.
Which made it my fucking fault.
Eventually, the cops let me go.
Mick waited with my ride outside the station. “You’re the last out.”
My head weighed a million pounds. “Who else did they bring in?”
He rattled off the names of a couple of dancers who’d been close friends of hers. Not that they could’ve killed her. I was certain of that.
I formed a question that had gnawed at me. “Tell me we have footage of that part of the riverbank.”
His head shake in the negative gutted me. “Manny says not. The camera which would’ve given us a view of anyone going down there had been knocked to one side, just enough to hide it. Whoever strung her up there did so without anyone seeing.”
“Alisha,” I bit out. “Not ‘her’. Use her fucking name.”
Mick ducked his head and muttered an apology, then talked on about the crew dispersing after the abandoned raid, not that I’d thought twice about Red since the body had been found.
A sign outside the warehouse informed the public that the building was closed. It gave no reason or reopening date. I curled my lip and burst into the cool interior.
Everly waited in our apartment, and I pulled her into my arms, the first sliver of anything other than pain piercing my stone-cold heart.
“I’m so sorry.” She stroked my hair.
I couldn’t manage words. I needed sleep. Her. To bring an end to whoever was doing this.
A worse fear had crept into my darkest moments in the police station. If Everly had been hurt, I wouldn’t survive it. I could track her and lock her up, but if I couldn’t protect Alisha, how could I keep the love of my life safe?
By vengeance. Dark, targeted, and all-encompassing.
Whoever had done this would pay.