Page 15 of Fighting Shadows

“It would take an act of god himself to make me even allow her in the same room as me. I hate that we breathe the same air.Shan hates her just as much, ignoring her calls that she’s been plaguing us both with,” he tells me.

“She’s been calling you both?”

The audacity of this bitch, I swear. She handed Autumn over to her biggest nightmare, tearing our world apart in the process.

“Why haven’t we set Dominic on her again?” I ask him entirely seriously.

“Because there’s still a part of me that doesn’t want her to get hurt, even if the other part of me does,” he says heartbrokenly, his eyes downcast while he picks at a splinter in the dining table.

“I get it, man, but if she ever shows her face again, I make no promises,” I warn him.

I don’t want to hurt my future brother-in-law, but I can’t allow her to get close once again; I’ll kill her myself before she steps foot over the doorway.

Chapter 8

Sebastian

Nine days…

Ican’t stop.

I know we’re close; I feel it in my soul, but I can’t find anything.

I’m frustrated and exhausted, but every time I leave my laptop, even for a bathroom break, I feel like I’m giving up.

Is this how Atlas felt the first time?

The hopelessness somehow harmonizes with the determination to bring her home.

Part of me never understood why he never gave up his search before, but I get it now.

My Sunshine brought life into this house and showed us the meaning of how to be strong.

If we gave up on her now, we’d fail the memory of Chloe, and Autumn deserves to have someone fight for her for once in her life.

My laptop pings, another hit on the surveillance search for Charlie’s car.

Running the pad of my finger over the mousepad, I bring up the newest result.

He was clever, clearly planning this out down to every detail.

If this were like the last time, we wouldn’t be so close to catching up with them, but cameras are everywhere now, and it only takes one to pick you out for us to know the direction you’re going in.

His determined face pops up on my screen for the fifth time. Both hands grip the steering wheel as he drives down an isolated road.

Thank god for hidden cameras.

“Anything new?” Atlas asks, his black hair a mess from running his hands through it continuously.

“Not sure yet. I need to see what road he’s on and what direction he’s heading in,” I mutter, the keys clacking as my fingers fly across them. He wanders over to me, his shoulders permanently hunched. His tall frame towers over where I’m sitting as he tries to see what I’m seeing.

“Is he driving in circles?” he asks me, his eyes focused intently on the video before us.

“He was. He’s clever, but I don’t think he thought about possible cameras on these roads. He drives, then hides somewhere for a while, throwing us all for a loop,” I inform him.

“God, I can’t wait to rip him apart,” he spits.

“Rip who apart?” Dominic asks, murder already blazing in his eyes.

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