Page 26 of Souls and Sorrows

“I’d advise not making idle threats,” I whisper, reveling in the gasp of air that escapes him as my hand shoves deeper. “One day, you’ll meet someone who doesn’t take kindly to inaction, and he might not let you leave without a hole in your stomach.”

Ripping myself away, I get to my feet, the soles of my shoes loud as they scrape against the concrete sidewalk. Vitus’s breaths come in harsh beats, pounding out of his puffed chest as he glares at me. His men come over, hauling him up by the armpits, eyeing me with disdain I normally don’t see outside the courtroom.

It feeds the sick, depraved parts of me. Indulges some darkness that otherwise remains dormant.

When a valet driver pulls my BMW around, I climb behind the wheel and take note of the address Zephyr sent, wondering if I should be concerned about the creature that tonight seems to have freed from somewhere deep inside of me.

But I type the street into the GPS anyway, no longer in the mood to think about anything other than my runaway bride.

* * *

“Well, I’ll be honest,”Palmer says slowly, almost as if he’s carefully considering each word before he speaks it. “This does make a lot of sense.”

Lenny gives him a look, her mouth falling open as she tucks a skinny paintbrush behind her ear. Their faces take up side-by-side squares on my computer monitor with a tiny one reflecting me in the bottom right corner, and I glance up, peering out into the hall through the glass wall of my office to make sure no one’s trying to eavesdrop.

Not that I can be certain my assistant isn’t just around the corner with a pad of paper and pen, waiting to take notes as if this were some sort of indictment and not a regularly scheduled group video call.

Although, with me having just dropped the sudden news of my engagement, it’s beginning to feel a lot like a sentencing.

“How do you figure it makes sense?” my sister asks. “In what world does Cassius Reed Primrose beingengagedeven skim the bottom of the sanity chart?”

“Well, you know, he never wants to go home with anyone. Or be set up,” Palmer notes.

“Call me crazy,” I mutter, neither of them acknowledging me at this point. I absently flip through the venire sent over by the sheriff’s office, scanning potential jurors for pertinent biases in the Citium case.

“Now, we know why.”

Lenny scoffs at Palmer’s words, moving her phone so the camera is propped up a foot away.

She’s in the living room of the beach house she shares with her fiancé, and I glance past her to the blue-gray walls and the ajar French doors overlooking the seagrass and ocean.

It’s been months since I stepped foot on Aplana Island, and watching her now fills me with a small pit of regret. Not big enough to spur me into action, but enough to grate on my nerves anyway.

A small wooden easel and canvas sit before her, and she reaches for a new, thicker brush, dipping it into a jar of light-orange paint.

I watch as the bristles connect with the white linen fabric, spreading color in fluid, long strokes. Longing stretches from my chest to the scene as Lenny’s face softens slightly, her soul bleeding into her art.

Once upon a time, I knew what that felt like.

Dropping that brush into a red Solo cup, she plucks another from a leather satchel, this time opting for a sky blue. “It just seems fishy to me, is all. You can’t blame a girl for being concerned.”

“I can actually.” Cocking my head to one side, I narrow my eyes at her. “And I do.Buried bodyclause, swan.”

Her dark brows quirk. “Did you kill someone?”

Palmer leans into his camera.

Groaning, I prop my elbows on my desk, shove my glasses up my forehead, and drive the heels of my hands into my eyes. “For fuck’s sake, does no one know what a metaphor is? Just because you’ve invoked the clause for less than magnanimous reasons doesn’t mean there’s blood on my hands.”

“You could just tell us to mind our own business,” Palmer grumbles, unaware of what we’re even talking about. He knows of the clause, but not to the extent that Lenny and I do.

“Cashisour business.”

“Fine.” I adjust my glasses, sitting back in my chair. “Can you two just accept that maybe I haven’t been absolutely forthcoming with every aspect of my life in the past and that I’m trying to make up for it now by letting you in before I change shit forever?”

They purse their lips.

“Fine,” Lenny mocks, and in the distance, I hear a door creak open, my hackles rising as footsteps echo through the room she’s in. “When do we get to meet her?”

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