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Her eyes linger, assessing everything about me. When other members of the congregation pass by, their attention settles more heavily on me, as if they can sense the change beneath my skin and mean to pry it open.

I wonder how a woman like Bridget moves so easily between piety and deviance, between the church and the Order. I find myself struggling with it.

“Patrick and I come out here when we can. There’s just something about that small-town charm.” Her smile sharpens slightly. “It peels back your layers and leaves you feeling bare, doesn’t it? Everyone wants to see what you’re hiding.”

I meet her gaze and return the smile.

“I don’t mind being seen. Sometimes exposure is where our strength lives.”

She hums a response, fingers brushing the pearls at her throat.

“Zaiya,” Evelyn says, “I forgot the cups for the punch. Will you run home and grab them? They’re on the table.”

I nod politely. “Of course.”

Anything to get out of here.

CHAPTER 29

EDWIN

The Council chamber sits high in The Cirrus Hotel, windows covered as per tradition, as if anyone would bother spying on their meeting through a telescope. Thick walls make the room soundproof. No one can hear so much as a scream.

Five old men sit in a shallow arc at the end of a conference table.

We’ve barely started and I already want out.

The sole reason I’m tolerating this is Zaiya. This meeting is about Asher, and I have a duty to uncover the truth. The Serpents owe her more than strategy.

Patrick sits closest to the Councilmen in a navy suit and red tie, tapping his pen against the table like irritation might force their compliance.

“It’s bringing too many eyes to us,” he says. “First, the news reports said car accident. Then some true crime parasites got hold of the death certificate and saw ‘gunshot wound to the head.’ Now they’re calling it an unresolved murder. We do not need people crawling around Shadow Bluff finding any connections to the Order.”

He pauses, expecting admiration for his concern.

No one gives it to him.

“What exactly has been found?” I ask.

Liam opens the folder in front of him. “Paint transfer from Asher’s vehicle matched an Impala registered to Ray Krueger. The car was tracked by its final GPS ping and recovered from a lake two counties east. Ray was last seen in Brightridge, possibly headed to Dubuque. We have people looking for him now.”

He slides a print across the table.

I stare at the security image.

Ray Krueger.

The man who put his hands on my girl and forced this horror into her life. All I can think about is putting his head on a spike where everyone can see it. In the hotel lobby, perhaps.

“Motivation?” Roland Whitmore asks as though his years as a judge have given him special insight into criminals.

“Unclear,” Liam says. “We’re trying to determine who he was working for.”

“Motivation was kidnapping Zaiya,” I say, tossing the photo back. “Someone wanted her.”

Liam nods. “And likely still does. But why?”

Somewhere out there, this man thought he could wrench her from her bed, turn her fear into submission, and deliver her to whatever monster sent him.