Page 110 of Sins of the Hidden

"I never did any of this!" Law's voice cracked, no longer the confident attorney but a man seeing his carefully constructed life imploding.

"Pictures don't lie in the eyes of the law." He tucked a photo back into the folder. "Prez collected dirt on everyone—insurance, blackmail. Call it whatever the fuck you want." His voice remained steady, almost bored. "He has evidence to put us away for life." He looked over at me. "Well, almost everyone."

Couldn't put me away if I didn't exist.

I didn't know what was in the folder, but I saw what it was doing to Law. Stripping him down, one indictment at a time. I'd never seen a man look like he was being skinned alive without a single knife in the room.

Law staggered back, his face ashen. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his body physically shook. He braced himself against the wall, eyes flickering with panic, gasping for breath as his throat worked convulsively. "Oakley can't—" he choked out, real fear in his eyes. Not for himself, but for what his daughter would learn.

Grim looked bored as Law clutched the edge of the desk, knuckles white, eyes flickering with panic.

"Prez didn't just bury evidence out there," Grim handed Law a paper scrawled with coordinates. "You two go find out what he left."

Law stared at the coordinates like they were poisonous. "You're sending one of us to our deaths."

"Don't give a fuck." Grim deadpanned, cold and pitiless. "Honestly, it might be better if neither of you come back. Y'all are gettin' on my fuckin' nerves."

I circled Law, enjoying his discomfort as the coordinates in Grim's hand promised something neither of us fully understood. The weight of my bat swung lazily at my side, a pendulum marking the seconds of his deteriorating composure. I dragged the wooden tip across the edge of the desk, the scraping sound making Law flinch with each pass. Whatever Prez had left behind could destroy us all, but I had the least to lose. You couldn't take away what never existed.

Turning to look at him, the bat hovering inches from his knee, "Better make peace before you dig, Dad."

Law's head snapped toward me, eyes blazing with hatred so pure it was almost beautiful. His jaw worked as if chewing through all the things he wanted to say but couldn't risk. For a moment, something dangerous flickered across his face—the look of a man calculating how much prison time killing me would be worth. Then reality crashed back in, and the lawyer in him won out over the father.

Law snatched the directions off the desk, jaw clenched. He didn't meet my eyes as he stormed from the room, shoulders tense with barely restrained fury.

I followed silently, the space between us charged and toxic. Grim's laughter echoed behind us as we disappeared into the dark corridor, two men with nothing in common but Oakley.

The air shifted as I entered the main room. Where Grim's office had been suffocating with rage and threats, the air was charged with something different here—whispered concern and protective glances. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with the metallic tang of fear hanging in the air. The jukebox clicked softly, cycling silently through forgotten songs. Fromsomewhere deep in the kitchen, a faucet dripped steadily, echoing through the charged silence.

The other women were gathered around my wife, who still refused to interact with any of them. The women hovered around her, crowding her space, the soft rustle of their clothing as they shifted positions sounding unnaturally loud in the tense quiet. Their bodies formed a protective circle, shoulders and elbows creating human walls. I wouldn't let them poison her against me.

She sat rigid, her eyes locked on a single point on the floor, pupils dilated to black pools rimmed with thin hazel. The fear response of prey. The predator in me recognized it instantly and craved it.

I made my way across the room to her. "Let's go."

She didn't react as the women looked at me one by one with suspicion. Faith stepped between us, her eyes hard and challenging, her body angling protectively toward Oakley as Victoria shifted closer, arms crossed. The silent choreography of women ready to defend their own.

Victoria positioned herself like a human wall between my wife and me, her stance wide and steady—the practiced posture of someone who'd spent years in a fighting ring. Her eyes never left mine, tracking every micro-movement.

"Ya know, for someone who just got married, she doesn't look very happy." Faith's voice was steady despite the slight tremor in her hands. "Funny, V, she doesn't look safe. She looks scared."

I moved closer, circling Oakley's chair like a shark. Each step deliberate, marking territory, cutting off potential escape routes. The women shifted uneasily as I positioned myself directly behind her, placing my hand on her shoulder. My thumb traced small circles against the nape of her neck—possessive, intimate.A gesture that in my mind was tender, but made Victoria's jaw clench.

"I'm safe." Oakley's voice was barely audible. She lifted her head, giving her friend a smile that never reached her eyes—it broke for half a second, revealing raw panic before she forced it back into place. "I'm just trying to process it." Her hand trembled slightly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the new ring catching the light. Under the table, hidden from view, she dug her thumbnail deep into her palm, pressing harder with each word.

She looked at Law, who kept his distance from her, the crushing weight of his failures evident in the slump of his shoulders. The edges of her lips fell, eyes shimmering with tears as she dropped her head again. Her fingers reached out, squeezing Faith's wrist tightly until her knuckles whitened—a desperate yet silent plea to stop pushing. Faith recognized the signal immediately, her expression shifting from defiance to fear.

I caught Faith's gaze as I stepped closer. My hand resting on Oakley's shoulder. I brushed against a hot carafe deliberately, the scorched metal burning my skin with a sizzling hiss that should have made me recoil. But I didn't flinch. Letting Faith see I felt nothing. Faith's eyes caught the contact, narrowing slightly as she registered my complete lack of reaction, the color draining from her face.

"This discussion isn't finished." Faith's voice was quiet but fierce. She put her hand on Oakley's shoulder, Faith stepped closer, shoulders squared, body shielding Oakley instinctively. "She's gonna come stay with me for the night."

I imagined Faith trying to take Oakley from me. The thought ignited something behind my eyes. She belonged with me now. I pressed my fingers deeper into Oakley's shoulder.

Victoria moved beside Faith, eyes cold and calculating. She deliberately stepped on my boot while speaking, the leather creaking under her weight, not moving her full weight but applying just enough pressure to make her challenge clear. Her fingers flexed at her sides, ready, tendons visibly tightening beneath her skin. Not just cautious, but prepared. Her fighter's stance shifted imperceptibly as she sized me up, calculating exactly where to land the first blow.

"You're not taking her anywhere," Victoria said, voice low, her warm breath hitting my face as she leaned in. She put a hand on my chest and pushed me back hard, the thud of her palm against my sternum echoing in the quiet room, her eyes locked on mine, fighter's instinct evident in every line of her body. Her heartbeat didn't even quicken—it was a warning shot, not an attack.

Joslyn appeared at Oakley's other side, her usual smile replaced by something hard and unfamiliar. She gently positioned herself in front of Faith—not to stop her friend, but to shield her from what I might do. "Faith's right," she said, voice steady despite the slight tremble in her hands, her tone scary-sweet, too soft and too controlled. "We can make some tea, talk about what's next." Her eyes never left my face, watching for any reaction that might betray my intentions.

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