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It’s over an hour before Neo shows his face. “About fucking time,” I say, getting off the cement floor and dusting off my pants.
“You’re lucky I came at all.” Neo gives Evan a shove in our direction. “Here’s what you asked for. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got two more chicks waiting on me back at the house. If they’re gone when I get back, because you assholes dragged me down here, I’ll go take Scar in their place.”
My veins flex in my forearms as my fists clench at my sides. “Leave her the fuck alone.”
“Ohhh,” he singsongs, “did I hit a nerve? Is someone finally admitting their feelings?”
“Fuck off.”
Neo knows damn well that Scar and I have been getting closer. We haven’t given ourselves a label but we’re well on our way. I told both Neo and Jagger that if I had to choose, I’d choose her. Jagger shrugged his shoulders then handed me a beer, while Neo asked if I planned to share—not with him, but with Jagger. Seems I missed a lot and she and Jagger got closer than I thought. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but time will tell. All bullshit aside, we all have one mission now and that’s protecting our girl. Neo is still being an ass, but I’m hopeful over time, he’ll come around.
Jagger and Evan are working on the lock while I watch intently. Neo is still here for whatever reason, and I’m glad. He needs to see what’s on the other side of the door, too. Whatever it is, it involves all of us. We’re family in the eyes of The Society. All for one and one for all.
Once the door opens, we all hoot and holler and breathe out heavy sighs of relief. It didn't take as long as I thought it would.
Neo grabs Evan by the back of his collared shirt. “You. Get lost.”
“But I don’t know how—”
“Do I look like I care?” He shoves him away, and Evan leaves with his tail between his legs.
I’m sure we’ll catch up with him on the way out, in which case, we’ll silence him with threats that we’ll make good on, if necessary. No one can know about this door until we know what’s back there.
“You guys ready?” Jagger asks, his hand on the U-shaped metal handle.
“No,” Neo says, sarcasm dripping from his mouth, “thought maybe we’d tell a few jokes. Maybe a ghost story or two first.” His voice jumps a few octaves. “Yes, we’re fucking ready.”
Jagger clicks on his flashlight, while I do the same, and he pulls the door open.
My heart is racing like a motherfucker. I’m not sure why. It’s just a door—just a room. Something in my gut tells me it’s so much more than that, though.
“Fuck!” Jagger bellows, while at the same time I see why. “Another damn door.”
I push past him, heading straight for it. When I turn the handle, I lift a smile over my shoulder. “Not locked.”
“Well, open it,” Neo says, bored with this entire situation.
I pull it open, and nothing could prepare me for what looks back at me. “What the actual fuck?” I drag out each syllable, while my eyes scan the room.
“Dude,” Jagger says, “this is unreal.”
“This definitely isn’t a Blue Blood,” Neo chimes in, picking up article after article, picture after picture.
Pointing my flashlight in front of me, I take in the collage of pictures, newspaper clippings, and notes that covers two entire walls. They date back to the early 1900s, hung in sequential order, all the way up to…
I pull down a note dated from last week and read it out loud:
They promoted Scarlett Sunder to an Ace because of her inside affiliation with The Lawless. She doesn’t deserve it. All she deserves is a six-foot hole in the ground, and that’s even generous for a dirty Blue Blood.
“Holy shit,” Neo says, grabbing my attention. I fold the note up and stuff it in my pocket, then follow his voice to where he went. “You guys have to fucking see this.”
With my light held out, I follow his line of sight inside the large closet—or small room—he’s stepped in.
I gasp when I look inside. Every bone in my body aches, intending to break someone else’s. My heart pounds. My jaw tics.
“Son of a bitch!”
Jagger and Neo scope out the room while I tear down more than a dozen pictures of Scar, one by one.
“Whoever this is, they are fucking obsessed with our girl,” Jagger says, walking along the walls and taking it all in.
“Obsessed doesn’t even begin to describe this shrine. This creep has been watching her for years. Two, maybe three?” Neo stops at a picture of Scar and Maddie, he swipes it, and I turn my head, using my peripheral vision to see what he does. He quickly stuffs it in the pocket of his BCA jacket.
“Who in the hell would do this?” Jagger asks, shaking his head in the same state of disbelief I’m in.
“I don’t know. But we’re gonna fucking find out,” I tell him. “And when we do, he’ll get his own six-foot hole, if we decide to even do them that service.”
The End.
