Making Plans
Nightshade
After listening to my Little Bird talk about her past with the Widlows, something inside me snapped. The quiet rage simmering beneath my skin ignited into something uncontrollable, something deadly. That man—Brandon Widlow—had stolen her innocence, stripped her of the safety she deserved, and yet he still walked free. That wouldn’t stand. I wouldn’t allow it.
My steps were quick and purposeful as I made my way through the trail to clear my mind racing ahead of me. The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth, the distant hum of camp lights buzzing like an unwanted whisper in my ears. My fists clenched at my sides, the resolve settling deep in my bones. He wouldn’t get away with this. I’d make sure of it.
The second I reached the trail that lead to my Little Bird’s cabin, I had a thought. I walked back to Cade’s office. The building was dark, locked up for the night, but that was never a problem for me. I worked the lock with ease, stepping inside with the confidence of a ghost—silent, unseen. I took that time to power up his laptop and find the folder that read: RENDROP, AVIANA.
My Little Bird.
I stared at her name, tracing the letters with my fingertips, as if touching them would somehow bring me closer to understanding her pain. I needed answers. I needed to know who had hurt her, who had allowed it to happen, and most importantly—I needed to put a stop to it.
She’s safe now.
She’s safe with me .
And I will always keep her safe.
I refuse to break that vow I made myself all those years ago.
I’ve broken one before. And I’ve lived with that failure every single day since.
My Little Bird, with her cascading honey-colored waves and those storm-gray eyes that held so much unspoken life, yet carried a darkness that never quite reached their depths. She smiled—a smile meant to convince the world she was fine. But I knew better. I could feel her pain, like a ghostly weight pressing against my chest every time I was near her.
She was trying to hide it, but pain like that leaves a mark. And I knew because I had the same one.
I wanted to reach for her, to pull her close, to whisper that she didn’t have to pretend anymore. That I would take on all the darkness for her, that she didn’t have to carry it alone. But I knew better. She was still too timid around me, still unsure of who—or what—I was. If I pushed too hard, she would retreat, closing herself off even further.
I could not let that happen.
Not yet.
With steady hands, I double-clicked the file and scanned Dr. Brenner’s notes—cold, clinical, as though she were nothing more than a test subject instead of a girl who had been broken and remade by the cruelty of others.
I gritted my teeth, making up my mind.
There was only one thing to do.
Grabbing a scrap of paper, I quickly scrawled my message. He had mentioned something in his sleep about a detective, and I had to take the chance.
I know you have connections. Call your detective friend and find out everything you can on Brandon Widlow. See if he’s locked up—or better yet, dead. Leave the information in your top drawer. Don’t ask questions. Just do as I say.
I set the note in place, knowing Cade would see it first thing in the morning.
And then, just as quietly as I came, I disappeared into the night.
Widlow’s days of walking free were numbered.
And if no one else was going to put an end to his reign of terror—then I would.