Page 115 of Outcast’s Vow

They want to make a point.

My phone buzzes as Brandon makes his way toward me. It’s Sylvie asking after me. I told her I had to go away for a work weekend in Europe for the Castaways. Everyone is still dealing with the fallout over the murder of Beckett, but I told her I had to do this. I’m not lying, but she also doesn’t need to know the exact details of what I’m doing. She doesn’t need to know the dirty secrets of the Castaways. I can only imagine the hell she’d give me if she knew what I was doing.

She saw how afraid I am of the Order. Of what they could still do to us, even though we’re married. I’ve tried burying that fear deep, but she still noticed.

Leopold was right in choosing me for this mission. Skiing is natural to me. I can lure Brandon in and ruin him in the most perfect way.

The ski instructor has a big, greedy handshake ready for me.

“How’s the hangover, bro?”

I effortlessly slip into dumb tourist mode.

“I don’t know what they put in their drinks in Europe, man. It’s powerful shit. My head is pounding.”

Brandon laughs.

“Why do you think I’m over here?”

But he’s not on this continent for the beer. He’s here attempting to escape the Castaways. Little does he know his vengeful angel is currently shaking his hand.

“I’m so pumped to finally get on some skis,” I enthusiastically declare. “As you can see, I bought the best pair in the shop, and the best gear. Maybe I could be talented at this. Maybe I could go all the way.”

“Love the confidence,” Brandon replies. “But it’s easier said than done. Have you ever skied before?”

“Nope. Well, once when I was a kid. It must be easy, right? Just point and shoot and then brake before you hit a tree.”

Brandon laughs again. It’s shallow, but his eyes are full of dollar signs. He smells of cheap body spray, beer, and false bravado.

“How about we start on the easy slope, dude? Get you comfortable and work our way up. We can take all day; you’re only paying me by the hour.”

“Easy slopes are for kids and women,” I eagerly retort like a dumb himbo. “I want to go down the biggest and toughest mountain around.”

“What do you mean?”

Hanging on the lobby wall is a large map of the ski slopes, with each route marked by different colors. And I’m pointing at the route with a thick black line.

“I like the look of that one.”

Brandon shakes his head.

“I’d love to take you, man. But it ain’t safe. Not that one.”

“I’ve heard it’s more scenic. And I want to prove to my buddies back home I can do it. I think this could be something I’m secretly super good at.”

“I really can’t, man. Health and safety will go crazy. You could fuck yourself up. Real bad.”

I reach into my pocket and unroll a pack of hundred-dollar bills.

“Let’s forget about health and safety for once,” I say in an inviting purr. “Just for today. Under the table.”

Brandon smiles. Those dollar signs are practically popping out of his eyes now.

“You’re twisting my arm, bro, but I like your style.”

I just need him alone.

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