Page 69 of The Vigilant

We finally reached the end of the hall and the staircase that brought us back above ground and into her living room.

The hallway wasn’t the only thing different. Robyn’s cabin was filled with light. She led me through the kitchen, living room, bedroom, and into the bathroom. Each room faced the woods, with floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the entire back wall of the structure.

But light was about the only thing it was filled with.

“This is your cabin?”

She made a low hum.

“You don’t stay here much.”

There were no photographs. No plants. No decor. There was furniture, but the neutral ensembles looked like they’d been picked out by a real estate agent to stage the space rather than be lived on.

“Towel. Washcloth.” She set both on a small table just outside the glass shower and then faced me and held out her hand. “Jacket?”

I tensed.

“He’s going to be fine, Sutton.”

I gritted my teeth and glared at her, hating that she could read me so easily.

“Yeah. I know.” I let go of the leather like it didn’t feel like I was handing over one of my own limbs.

She left me alone then, closing the door behind her.

In another world, the shower would’ve felt luxurious, but not when the streams of water running down the drain were stainedpink with blood. I washed and scrubbed like I was still searching for a wound on myself to explain the amount of blood, but in the end, I only rubbed my skin raw, finding nothing but reminders that I was responsible for almost getting Tynan killed.

I would find out who’d done this, and I would make them pay.

When the water ran clear, I shut off the faucet and grabbed my towel, noticing that at some point, Robyn had slid a small stack of clothes through the bathroom door for me.

I dried and easily slipped on the black leggings and black tee, toweling my hair until it was damp.

I needed to fix this. I needed to find that user—the man who was responsible. For Mara. For Tynan. If I could find my phone, I could get back on the app and message him. Make some kind of deal.

I tossed the towel onto the rack and strode into the bedroom.

My phone had to be somewhere in the garage, and I was going to find it.

I made it all the way to the kitchen before finding Robyn. She had Tynan’s jacket stretched across the counter like it was completely normal to clean bloody clothes on her kitchen island.

“Grab a cloth.” There was one waiting for me, and she had a dish on the counter with some concoction of cleaner she mixed up.

Wordlessly, I took the second cloth, dabbed it in the bowl, and set to work on a different spot.

The gray quickly stained with pink as it pulled up the blood from the leather.

“What are the Vigilantes?” I probed, working my way around the edge of the emblem.

“Motorcycle club.” She repeated my answer from before, going to the sink and rinsing out her cloth.

“Tynan’s not part of a motorcycle club.” At least not any of the ones famous for lawlessness.

I worked carefully over the stitched patch on the sleeve, the threads half white and half deep red, and waited for her to answer.

“You sound so sure.”

“He’d never do something criminal. It’s not who he is, and he’d never do something that went against his moral compass.” Even if he wanted to. Only after the words were out did I feel like a fool for arguing with a woman who arguably knew Tynan better than I did; hell, they lived at the same…compound.

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