Page 54 of Allegiant

My lips thin. “He was being followed.”

“Yes. At first, neither of us took it very seriously. Just laughed it off as him having an obsessed fan. Even joked that he’d finally hit the big time if he had a stalker.”

Ah. Adam had been an up-and-coming artist. I’m not meant to know that, though. Guilt twinges as I ask the next question. “Why’d he have fans? Was he famous or something?”

“Only in certain circles. Adam was a portrait artist. Really fucking good, too. There was a waitlist a mile long to sit for him. He⁠—”

Rowan’s words are cut off by another bout of sobbing. I gently rub his back, carding my hands through his hair until he’s able to continue.

“Sorry,” he says eventually. “It’s just weird to talk about him in the past tense, you know? And when I think about everything he had to live for…” His voice drifts off. When it returns, the desolation has me wanting to weep alongside him. “Adam had everything to live for. Everything. It’s not fair. Why’d he have to die?”

My eyes drift shut as Rowan basically confirms my suspicions. Rowan might blame himself for his friend’s death, but he wasn’t the one to wield the weapon.

Yet you almost killed him for it.

That throws up other questions that I don’t have the bandwidth for right now. Ones about The Firm and the level of research we do on our marks. Whether we truly have the right to play judge, jury, and executioner. I shelve them for another time. It’s too fucking messy, and Rowan is all I want to focus on right now.

“Adam blocked the messages.” Rowan is crying again now, his pain punctuating every syllable. “But they kept coming through via different numbers.”

“Did he go to the police?”

His head bobs. “They didn’t give a shit. Said they didn’t have the resources to get involved unless the stalking escalated.”

My jaw locks. Yeah, I know all about the St. Dismas police department. They’re actually one of the best-funded on the West Coast. No amount of money can compete with the level of corruption in the force. It’s why The Firm gets so many requests.

Where the official channels let people down, my family never will.

I make a mental note to bring them up at our next meeting. Over the years, we’ve delivered many warnings to the chief of police. He will generally behave for a few more months before stepping over the line again.

Looks like it’s time for us to pay another visit.

“Adam started to get paranoid. Wouldn’t leave the house unless I was with him. I thought he was overreacting. This is the kind of shit that happens in movies, you know? Not real life. I should’ve done fucking better.”

“You couldn’t have known,” I murmur, already seeing where this is going. “There are fucked-up, evil people everywhere. If you spend your life looking for them, it’ll eat away at your soul. You’ll be left seeking out joy in the craziest of places.”

Like dancing in a woodshed with axes.

“The messages didn’t stop.” Rowan continues as though he didn’t hear me. “Just kept coming. But I thought that was all it was. Weird messages. Figured the less Adam left the house, the quicker they’d give up. I thought, so long as he stayed at home, he’d be safe.”

My throat constricts as I remember when Adam’s body was found. I almost want to beg Rowan to stop with his story, but I need to see this through to its bitter end. We both do.

“One year ago, I had the starring role in Swan Lake.” Rowan’s tone takes on a robotic quality, like he can’t allow himself to fully feel the events of that night. “It was my dream role. Back in school, I used to make Adam watch old video productions down in my basement. He’d be so patient when I’d stop the tape to practice a particular move over and over. Adam never complained. Not once.”

“He sounds like a very special man.”

“He was.” Rowan’s voice trembles. “And I should’ve listened to him. Why didn’t I? I was so fucking selfish, so fucking awful.”

I don’t have any answers for him, only questions. “What happened that night?”

He exhales shakily. “Adam was more freaked out than usual. The messages he’d gotten that day…they were different.”

“Different how?”

“Violent.” Rowan squeezes his eyes shut tight. “They’d always had a sexual undertone, but this was the first time they’d threatened him. He was freaked out. We both were, but I didn’t take it seriously. Not seriously enough, anyway.”

He slowly pulls himself into a sitting position, his knees brushing mine. He takes a deep breath, like it’s taking all his courage to get through this final part. I take both his hands in mine and squeeze, reminding him he’s not alone.

I’m starting to think I don’t want Rowan to be alone ever again.