Page 211 of Violence


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“He was outside when I drove by,” I lie as I turn to face them. “I won’t go by there again.”

Tanner’s dark green eyes lock to mine.

“Why did you drive by in the first place?”

“Because he tried calling Damon. You already know about that.”

Tanner blinks, his posture shifting as he glances at Gabe again in one of those silent conversations they always have.

It’s annoying when they do it, but I guess the same can be said of Damon and me.

Sometimes you know a person so well that you can communicate without speaking the first word.

“William is a problem,” Tanner says, stating the obvious, “but he’s still part of our families and involved with all of our fathers. He’s part of what we’re working to destroy.”

“I know that. And I’m leaving him alone.”

Sympathy flickers behind his eyes, his expression softening.

“We’ll handle William with the rest of them, Ezra. But doing anything now might tip them off that we’re not their puppets anymore. We’re getting there. We just need to be patient.”

Right, because I’m known for my patience. On this, though, he has nothing to worry about, so I brush it off.

“I know. And it’s not a problem. May I leave now?”

Holding a hard stare on me for a few seconds longer, Tanner nods his head and steps back.

“Be sure to tell usimmediatelyif anything happens or if William contacts Damon again.”

“I’ll be sure to put it in the newsletter.”

“The what?”

Chuckling at the confusion written across his face, I shake my head.

“Nothing. I’ll see you both later.”

They say nothing as I stalk off and climb on my bike, a sigh pouring over my lips as I pull my helmet on and start the engine.

It’s a short ride from Tanner’s house to mine, the outside lights a bright glow over the driveway as I park next to Damon’s truck.

Guessing he isn’t out with Shane like Jase thought, I hope I’m wrong about Damon putzing around the house and sobbing into his pillow.

He was his usual self when he left Emily’s house a few days ago, but it could have been an act he put on to make her feel better. There’s no telling with him lately.

I’m exhausted as I walk up to the house, my thoughts scattered when I climb the few steps up to the front door, my body stilling in place when I notice the door is partially open, and the concrete in front of it is stained.

Pushing the door open with two fingers, I call out, “Damon?”

He doesn’t answer, the house quiet as a tomb and concern flooding me instantly when I step inside.

My foot slips on the ground, concern exploding into fear to see blood on the stone tiles.

“Damon!”

It’s not a lot of blood, but a path of it drips into the house. Wondering if the asshole got into another fight while out, I step deeper into the house.

“Damon, you better answer me right now!”

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