Chapter Twenty-Nine
Valhalla
The flight from New York City to Las Vegas, Nevada, was quiet. Neither Sinclair nor I truly spoke. Then again, there wasn’t really much to say. The truth was a hard pill to swallow most times, and our truth was no different.
I didn’t know why he saved me that day at the Trick Pony, and I never really asked.
Maybe it was because I was afraid of the answer.
Maybe I really didn’t care, but the fact was, I owed him for that day, and I never repaid my debt.
I knew that day was coming. As to when, I was sure he would let me know when the time was right for him.
Until then, I would play along with whatever game he wanted to play.
However, there was one thing we did need to discuss, and there was no time like the present. “Why didn’t you tell me the baby I carried out of there that day was my son?”
“Would it have mattered?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the paper he was reading. “The second you were free, you abandoned him. You left Silas, Rowen, and myself to raise him.”
“I would have taken him with me.”
He looked at me then. “Would you have? Correct me if I’m wrong, Thena, but you were more concerned with your daughter to even consider you had a son.”
“My name is Meredith or Valhalla.”
He scoffed. “You will always be Thena to me, no matter what name you go by. Now stop deflecting and answer my question.”
“You know why I left, and it wasn’t my choice to leave my son.
I had to find my daughter, and you knew that.
I would never have left him if I’d known who he was.
As for my name, I am Meredith now, and that is the name I choose to go by.
The past is the past.” I turned away, staring out of the plane window, watching the clouds drift by.
“I made a promise to myself that I would find her, and I did. I couldn’t have done that if I had taken him with me. You knew how dangerous it was.”
Sinclair remained silent for a moment, and I could feel his eyes on me. “You could have come back for him. You could have at least stayed in contact. But you didn’t. You disappeared and left us to pick up the pieces. I had to step up and be a father to him, something I never planned on doing.”
“I saw the picture of Danika on your desk.”
Sinclair smiled. It was a rare thing, and I couldn’t look away.
“She is perfect. Untainted by the world we live in, and if it’s the last thing I do, she will remain that way.”
“Dante told me she calls you Pop-pop.”
“Because I am.”
“I am her grandmother.”
“Whom she doesn’t know.”
Sinclair’s words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and a hint of sadness.
I knew he was right, but it still stung to hear them spoken aloud.
I had made my choices, and now I had to live with the consequences.
“You’re right,” I whispered, my eyes still fixed on the clouds outside.
“I abandoned my son to find my daughter. I didn’t know, and I let my desire to find the one child I knew about cloud my judgment.
I thought I was doing the right thing.” I turned to face Sinclair, searching for understanding in his eyes. “And in doing so, I abandoned my son.”
“And your daughter.”
“What?” My head snapped up.
“Instead of being with your children, you are here with me on a fool’s errand. Why?”
“You know why.”
“I do, but for a woman who spent the majority of her life looking after and protecting one child while abandoning the other, you do seem to have no problem leaving when the mood suits.”
“I’m looking for a way to get August away from the Brotherhood.”
“Ah yes,” Sinclair scoffed. “The biological father who didn’t even know about his children, and who didn’t even bother looking for you.
Tell me, Thena, where does your loyalty end?
Because from where I’m sitting, the only person you seem to help is yourself.
So that begs the question, why? Why help a man who never looked for you?
Why care about children who you claim to love, only to walk away when they need you the most?
Why abandon everything for folly when you don’t know where the road will end? ”
“You’re right; I made a choice,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me.
“But it was never about abandoning one child for the other. I had to leave my son to ensure my daughter’s safety.
It was the only way.” I paused, gathering my thoughts.
“As for August, he may not have known about his children, but that doesn’t make him any less their father.
I owe him that much, to help him be a part of their lives if he so chooses. ”
Sinclair’s gaze was unwavering, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. “And what about your choices now? You’re here with me, chasing a lead that may very well be a dead end. What about your children, Thena? Who will protect them while you’re off playing hero?”
I took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling on my shoulders.
“I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m trying to make things right.
I can’t change the past, but I can shape the future.
My children are safe for now, and I trust those who are watching over them.
This lead could be my only chance to free August from the Brotherhood’s grasp. I can’t turn my back on that.”
“The problem with being a martyr, Thena, is generally the martyr dies.”
After landing at Harry Reid International Airport, Las Vegas, Sinclair had a car waiting as we quickly sped from the hangar. After handing me my ass on the plane, the man hadn’t said another word to me. And frankly, I was glad for the silence.
The man always saw too much.
Sometime later, the car slowed in front of a cute little two-story bungalow, something out of the 1920s. The house was overrun with ivy but looked to be in good condition. Stepping out of the car, Sinclair adjusted his suit and sighed. “Welcome to 31 Briar Patch Lane.”
“What are we doing here?” I asked, looking around the abandoned home.
“You said you wanted me to show you where my trail went cold. Well, this is it.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, looking at him. “Who lived here?”
“That’s what I was trying to find out when the occupants disappeared. According to the owner, he rented this house to a young woman. When she failed to pay rent, he entered the house and found two small kids squatting on his property and ran them off. Since then, the house has been vacant.”
“He let two kids just run off. Where were their parents? Did he even bother to call CPS?”
Frowning, he glared at me. “Still concerned for others and not your own, I see.”
“Cut the crap, Sinclair. I’m not rehashing my past mistakes with you again. Just tell me what I want to know.”
Sinclair’s eyes narrowed, the edge in his voice returning.
“The trail went cold here. I spent weeks canvassing the neighborhood, asking questions nobody wanted to answer. The kids—no one knew their names. The neighbors barely remembered seeing them, just fleeting shadows in the windows, lights flickering at odd hours. It’s like the house itself swallowed them whole. ”
A heaviness settled over me as he pushed open the wrought-iron gate, its hinges shrieking. The front porch groaned beneath our feet. “I checked every room. No trace of where they went. Just a couple of worn sneakers by the back door and a half-empty box of cereal on the counter.”
We stood in silence, the wind ruffling the ivy along the eaves. Dust spiraled through a cracked window, catching in a single ray of afternoon sun. For a moment, I thought I heard the faint echo of laughter, the ghost of a life interrupted.
Sinclair turned to me, jaw clenched. “This is where it all stopped making sense. Every lead vanished. The one place I thought I’d find answers gave me nothing but questions.”
I studied the peeling paint, the secrets whispered by brick and vine. Whatever had happened at 31 Briar Patch Lane, it had left its mark—and not just on the house.
Without another word, Sinclair stepped past me, his shadow stretched long over the threshold as something told me I would not like what I learned next.
As we stepped into the house, a chill ran down my spine. The air felt heavy, as if the very walls were suffused with sorrow. Sinclair’s words echoed in my mind, the weight of his accusation still fresh. I knew I had made mistakes, but the path I had chosen was paved with good intentions.
The house was eerily quiet, as if it were holding its breath.
I could almost imagine the ghostly outlines of the children who had once lived here, their laughter and tears lingering in the air.
“What happened to them, Sinclair?” I whispered, my voice carrying a mixture of fear and desperation. “Where did they go?”
Sinclair’s expression was grim as he replied, “That’s what you’re here to learn. But mark my words, Thena, this house holds secrets. Secrets that may change everything you thought you knew.”
As he spoke, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the floor, adding to the sense of foreboding that hung over the place. I shuddered, feeling as though I was stepping into a trap, one from which I might not escape.