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Why had I been called up here to be asked this when Hollis was within the same room and could have supplied the same exact information as me? I guess there was reasoning somewhere, not that I’d ever find it with my dad. He did strange shit for weird reasons, and his constant excuse?I’m the boss, I’ll do things whatever way I please.
“Yeah…” I stretched further into the chair, spreading my legs.
Hollis grunted like I was being a petulant child, but nobody had actually asked me a worthwhile question. When they did, I could answer to the best of my ability.
I smirked cockily, but wiped my thumb back and forth over my mouth to keep it hidden, not that it was from the glares I got in response. It was so easy to rile this lot up. I had calmed the chaos that usually rode close to the edge for the time being, leaving me in a generally pleasant mood.
“Stop manspreading.” Hollis scowled. “We all know it’s pointless when your dick matches my pinkie finger.”
Somebody was cranky today. I snickered like the asshole I was, because seeing him out of his usual stoic, permanent expression was a rarity. One that I wanted to cash in on.
“You’re an emotionally detached prick, you know that,” I mocked.
Dad and Dorian sighed at our back and forth.You can’t take the boy outta the man.
“That’s real unoriginal,” he deadpanned, crossing his arms. “Seriously, try out something new for once.”
“Anyway,” dad butted in the conversation to get it back on track, “I want to hear from you what went on when you visited the event.” His gaze seared me, and I answered, deciding to forgo taunting him about the judgement he so clearly displayed when talking about anything with a bit of skin showing.
Anyone would think he was an unsullied archangel, but the old man had never grasped why anyone would need those types of places like strip clubs or events. More fool him. Or not, because that made him faithful to my mom. If he wasn’t, I’d stand over him, watching him dig his own grave before putting a bullet between the same eyes that matched mine, and bury him six feet deep with no remorse. Well…
“Honestly,” I began. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Hollis nodded, along with my assessment.
“But—”
“What? It’s a sex event, we saw what you’d expect. The normal,” he interrupted me, directing the last words towards dad.
“—didn’t you find the choice of mask odd, for that show we ventured into?” I carried on like I wasn’t cut off, thinking back to that night. Hollis looked at me blankly, like he hadn’t the faintest clue what I was on about.
What was going on with him? He always noticed shit like that. He must be majorly distracted if whatever plagued his mind could pull him from his work.
“I can’t be certain. But the mask that the two women in the room were wearing reminded me of an owl,” I revealed, looking to my dad, whose brows furrowed. He exchanged a loaded look with Dorian, then brought his attention back to me.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Like I said.” I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table positioned between us. “I can’t be certain. However, I believe it looked like an owl mask or something very, very similar.”
He tapped his fingers on the table while contemplating a response. “There’s never co-incidences in our line of work, you know this,” he divulged, looking between me, Hollis and Drew.
“Who were the men and women in the room?” Drew remarked.
And that was the million-dollar question. We had no clue. That was the issue. They were highly protected, and the members remained anonymous. Whenever you attended an event led by Obsidian, you were made to wear a mask. It was communicated before you stepped foot into the establishment selected for that night and only told you hours beforehand; they were highly strung at keeping identities secret.
They even collected and delivered you to the event to keep its location secret. It figured, seeing as the one who owned the entire business was well known within the criminal underworld. Hollis grunted, coming to the same conclusion as me.
I gazed at Dorian. “So, tell us about this favour with The Forsaken…”
* * *
Snatching my phone from the kitchen counter as it pinged with an incoming message, I tamped down on the feelings she conjured so effortlessly.
Milla: Why is your stalker stalking me?
It beeped again straight away, with a GIF of an example of the Annabelle doll, its beady eyes shifting freakishly from side to side. I pursed my lips together, trying not to laugh and clearly knowing who she’d been referring to.Thinking of it, Annabelle did turn up wherever I was on campus. Like she had some sort of tracker on me.
“You’re smiling,” Preston commented offhandedly, like it was a normal occurrence to see a pleasant expression cross my face. It wasn’t but props to him for not being a dick about it, though.
I shrugged off his comment as I sipped my coffee, replying one handed, which was even more awkward when Preston was staring at me with an expectant expression on his face. We told each other everything important, and shared information between us that many would scoff at.
