33. Secrets Unveiled
Secrets Unveiled
thirty-three
S e v e n
The good thing about the tracker Eli put on his sister's bike was that it gave us every fucking address where her bike went these last few days.
The bad thing? We had to go track them all down to find out what she had been up to. But lucky for us, there weren't that many, and most of them we recognized, but there were a few we didn't.
After having the data sent to my phone and plugging in the first address, I finish my beer and reluctantly get off the couch. Eli and Kane rush in through the back door to the garage, worry washing over their exhausted faces.
Out of breath, Eli gasps, "Where is she?"
"Upstairs with Stone while we looked through the tracker data from her bike." I wave the USB drive in the air before slipping it into my pocket.
"Has she said anything?" Kane asks, sounding like he's trying hard not to run up there and check on her.
After pulling my black hoodie over my head, I shake it, feeling slightly deflated, but knowing we're this fucking close to finding out the mystery we've been struggling with for three fucking days now. "Nah, but she wasn't in the mood to open up when she got home, so we didn't want to push it and trigger her without knowing it."
"At least she's fucking home. Everything else will fall into place," Eli mumbles, still looking hurt and worried for his sister.
But he wasn't the only one who felt like that.
"Who's riding with me?" I asked, grabbing my bike keys and heading for the back door.
"You three go," Kane suggests. "I'll stay here with my boy and Emerson."
Eli and I exchange a look before nodding and heading out the door with Ace, Emerson on my mind with each step. The night air is cool and refreshing as we hop on our bikes and start the engines. I take the lead, with the tracker data guiding us to the first unfamiliar address. The streets are quiet as we ride, our headlights cutting through the darkness to guide our way into the unknown. One by one, we check all of the places she was, not finding a clue as to why she was there or what happened.
Finally, as we pull up to the last address, we see a small, rundown apartment building and Damon's Mustang parked in the driveway, looking like it's out of place, especially for this area. Eli, Ace, and I exchange another look before dismounting our bikes and approaching the entrance. I notice a tire track in the mud that leads to beside the building, and a sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.
The door is unlocked, so we pull it open and walk inside the dark, desolate building, chills trickling down my spine.
"Something ain't right," Ace whispers as we follow the GPS that leads us to the only door on the hall, dim, flickering lights hopping around in my vision.
Stopping at the cracked open door, I pause, turning to make sure they're ready to see what, if anything, is waiting for us inside. "I don't like it either, but this is the last stop and our last chance to find out what Emerson was doing for the last three days."
"Open it," Eli demands, shoving his twitching hands into his pants pockets.
I push the door open the rest of the way, drawing my gun, and prepared to use it. The pungent smell of death overwhelms our senses, causing us to gag, pulling our sweatshirts up over our noses to block the stench. Fear seeps into my bones with each step, and my heart thunders inside my chest, pulsing loudly in my ears. A trail of dried blood on the floor puts the fear of God in me, and I do my best to brace myself for whatever we're about to find. Ace leans against the front door, shaking his head as he hunches over.
"You go. I can't stomach the fucking smell," he gags, every ounce of color draining from his face.
Eli and I continue to follow the blood trail, stopping as we get to the bedroom, gloom following us like a shadow. As I flip the light on, my fucking jaw drops to the floor as I take in the bloody sight in front of us.
There, lying on the floor, is Damon, covered in blood from all of the stab wounds all over his body. Flies are heavily swarming around him. My eyes scan the room, and I instantly feel sick to my stomach, but not because of the stiff, dead body in front of us. Attached to the bed are handcuffs and leather straps, which are obviously used to restrain someone. Polaroids are scattered on the floor at the end of the bed, and as I walk over and bend down to pick one up, I freeze when I see Emerson posed in different positions, both awake and unconscious.
"What are those?" Eli asks, stepping over Damon's body as he walks over.
I quickly stand up and drop the picture, trying to keep him back so he doesn't see his baby sister like that. "No, Eli. Trust me, you don't need to see them."
His nostrils flare, his sharp jaw clenches, and for a moment, it feels like he's about to fight me over the pictures. But he relaxes eventually, turning back around to look at Damon and letting out a chillingly dark chuckle that makes my nerves uneasy.
"She fucking killed him, Seven. She killed him, and she didn't want us to find out." He takes his gun out and cocks it, then fires, the sound of recoil echoing loudly in my ears. He doesn't stop, either. Eli stands steady and empties the clip into Damon's corpse, getting his revenge even though his sister beat him to it.
But I don't stop him. He needs this, mostly to feel like he's protecting his sister, even though, by the looks of it, she doesn't need it.
And then he breaks down, his strong exterior crumbling as he collapses against me, thinking about the horror and torture Emerson went through. I hold him and let him sob, trying to hold back tears of my own, but I can't.
I glance up at Ace, who has managed to compose himself in the doorway, still pale and on the verge of barfing. He nods at me, his eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and understanding. With Eli still leaning on me for support, we eventually leave the apartment, knowing that the nightmare is far from over.
Getting home well after two am, Ace goes right upstairs to his room, desperate to shower, hoping it'll wash away the stench of death still clinging to him—to us. Eli is still silent, not knowing what to say or how to process the horrific scene seared into our minds.
He walks like a zombie to the dark kitchen, his shoulders slumped, a distant look consuming his murderous eyes, obsessively fixated on a bottle of J?germeister that he snatches off the top of the refrigerator. Without speaking, he walks straight out the back door, taking the entire bottle with him.
The quiet tapping of footsteps descending the stairs grabs my attention, and I turn around to see Stone coming toward me, rubbing his bloodshot, tired eyes with a grim expression on his face.
"How is she?" I whisper, glancing up at the top of the stairs, making sure Emerson didn't follow him.
He shakes his head and walks into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, chugging half of it before he speaks. "Not good. She's struggling, but still won't open up just yet."
"I'm not surprised," I admit, shaking my head as I stare blankly out the kitchen window at the waves, bile rising in my throat. "She fucking killed him."
He chokes on the water, looking at me with bulging eyes and his mouth slightly ajar. "Wait, what?"
"Yeah, we found him mutilated on the floor of some apartment, lying in a pool of dried blood." I shudder just thinking about it as the images from the pictures flash in my mind. "He put her through hell, so I don't blame her."
"Fuck, I don't even know what to say." Stone just stares at me, almost as if he's waiting for me to say, 'Just kidding'. But those words never come out of my mouth.
"She's afraid to face us, and I don't blame her," I whisper, bowing my head as I squeeze the bridge of my nose, trying to hold back the onslaught of emotions overwhelming me. "Eli's about to hit a very dark place."
Stone nods, a grim understanding overshadowing his face with dark, hooded eyes. "We're all in one, grim company, but he and Emerson are facing the worst of it."
"Yeah, and all we can do is be there for them. But we need to clean ourselves up and figure out what's next. We can't live in this fucking mess forever," I scoff, still trying to grasp the severity of the situation.
He reaches into the drawer, pulling out two cigarettes that he lights, handing one to me before puffing on the other himself. "She's going to need all the help and support she can get."
"We're all going to need a lot more than that," I mutter, realizing that this was only the beginning of something we never saw coming our way.