Page 129 of The Unravelings

“We could do more, if you have time?” I say, gesturing to the papers from our file. “Maybe we can figure something else out.” Like going to talk to that stupid bartender and seeing what else he might know. Not that I’m my former self. The girl he seemed to like and wanted to take her into his basement apartment.

Shit. Maybe I was his next victim?

“Yeah,” Wilder says, unlike himself. “Let’s study some more. I don’t have another class today.”

For the next hour or so, Wilder and I go through the papers, trying to make heads or tails of what happened to Ezra.

“There’s nothing really here,” Wilder complains, slumping back in his seat. “No wonder it’s a damn cold case. They stopped working on it.”

My brows furrow. “Yeah, seems that way,” I mumble bitterly. “Means someone important made it disappear. Just like Dr. Chambers.”

“I agree,” Wilder says, twisting the cigarette behind his ear several times. “Let’s get out of here and get some lunch or something.” He says it so casually as he picks up the papers and shoves them back into the folder.

“Uh, sure,” I agree hesitantly as my stomach growls.

Shit. I didn’t eat.

Wilder eyes me quietly as we clean up the papers and put them into the folder.

“So, uh. We’re having that sparring open gym tonight, if you’d want to stop by?” There’s a hopefulness in his voice as he stands tall by the table, messing with his tie that hangs loosely around his neck. “Usually it’s on Thursdays, but we decided to open it tonight. Or, well, any time. We can go after lunch.” A slight redness coats his cheeks when he looks away from me and clears his throat. “I have to stop by my house before we go and change out of this death trap.” He gestures to the suit clinging to his body.

I lick my lips and think it over. It would be fucking nice to get some sparring in. Even if it’s with punching bags and other equipment. I could sort out every ounce of my frustrations and be better by tomorrow. Plus, if he’s inviting me over to his house beforehand, I can keep an eye out for my damn glasses that Malic swears he hasn’t seen. Liar. Veritas must have noticed by now that no footage has been uploaded for a few days. I’d rather get them back before Jonathan hands me my ass.

“Sure. That’d be fun.” I smile at him.

37

Wilder

I lied. Not the first time. Nor the last. But today, it slipped out so easily, and I couldn’t take it back. In fact, I really didn’t want to.

You see, it all started when I numbly walked into our study session, and I saw Oliver sitting across the table from my brother, looking up at me with concern in his eyes and his button nose wrinkled at the sight of me. Those big green eyes speared right through my damn center, like he knew exactly what I went through thirty minutes before and felt for me. Felt. For. Me. That doesn’t happen very often. In fact, I can’t remember the last time someone asked Wilder, how are you doing? I don’t blame Malic. Fuck, he doesn’t even feel. Maybe a slight obsession here and there. Oh, and the need to stab and maim, but other than that, Malic is only worried about himself. Not me. Not even Boss gets his full attention.

So when it was time to leave, the lie slipped out so easily. I couldn’t take it back. Didn’t want to.

“We’re having that sparring open gym tonight…”

And that was the lie.

Our sparring sessions are always scheduled for Thursday nights. It’s open to the public. Some weeks we don’t have any visitors. It’s Mal and me fighting in the ring and gearing up for whatever fight is coming at the Coliseum. Other Thursdays, we’re packed with members from the gym and other people checking us out.

Today, though, I-I couldn’t go home and stare at the walls for hours. Or go to class and listen to my professors babble about useless bullshit. Or anywhere else. Not without feeling this crushing guilt and grief weighing me down. Meredith.

How could this have happened? She was so well protected between Malic and me. We were her bodyguards, making sure she made it safely to work and back home again. And if we couldn’t be there? We had people watching her from a safe distance.

Fuck.

Maybe instead of opening my mouth to Oli, I should have grabbed my bike and taken a long drive somewhere by myself to clear my head. Maybe into the mountains or to another fucking state. Far, far away from all this bullshit I’ve gotten myself into. Mom’s declining again. Meredith’s dead. Malic is out in the fucking wind, doing God knows what. Too bad for me, I had to be at the study session. This project means a lot for our grade, and I can’t fuck over Oli. Even Mack, the fucker.

I twirl my cigarette between my fingers, staring straight ahead at the emptiness of the parking lot, and losing myself in all the emotions swirling inside me.

Meredith.

We buried her today. Her ashes. We put them into a plot at the damn cemetery. Courtesy of our boss and a private funeral ceremony only for us, secured behind a large curtain to maintain our privacy. But mostly for Boss, whose face isn’t well known around town. Only his reputation and what he’s done.

“She was a good woman, Malic. She didn’t deserve this,” Boss says, a hint of emotion creeping into his voice and breaking through. He squeezes Malic’s shoulder tightly. Like he’s his son and someone he’s proud of. But Malic doesn’t react. He barely moves. Breathes. His eyes are laser-focused on Meredith’s resting place, her headstone not present yet. Dirt piled over her in a traditional grave. “We’ll find out who did this to her. The chief is already investigating.”

“Any surveillance footage?” I rasp, swallowing everything I’m feeling.