Page 117 of Sins of the Hidden

"I don't know what really happened." Law's voice was barely audible, raw with guilt. "Before. Or that day. She never told us.She just... broke. There's something—" He cut himself off, jaw working against words he couldn't bring himself to say. "I don't know if I can get her back this time. Seeing her like this again,it feels like I'm watching my daughter disappear right in front of me. So when I saw her yesterday, with that same look—" Law's voice hardened again, steel replacing his vulnerability. "I knew someone had broken her again. I nearly lost her once, and I couldn't... I can't..." His words trailed off, heavy with fear I'd never heard in him before. "And this time, it's you—with your murderous hands and black fucking soul."

“I’ll take care of my wife,” I looked out the window at the setting sun. “She’s not leaving.”Not without me.

Law fell silent, swallowing hard against emotions he tried to hide. His jaw tightened as he blinked rapidly, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders back, composing himself piece by piece, armor sliding back into place. When he spoke again, his voice was flat, professional, all vulnerability carefully tucked away. Like our conversation never happened.

"Haven’t seen Prez's house since he moved." He changed the subject, all traces of the broken father gone. He had moved to be closer to Nyla, their twisted history binding them together even now. The house did look nice, if that was what you were into. Large pillars at the front door, with a large front yard stretching out like a green carpet. Red brick paved the driveway, each brick laid. Trees surrounding the property, sentinels standing guard.Oakley would like this, I thought. She'd find beauty where I saw only utility.

I made my way down the side of the house where the heavy trees lined the property, using the thick trunks as cover to get to the back of the house. Everything looked normal, just a regular house on the outskirts of town, secrets hidden behind mundane walls.

A snapping branch from behind us.

"V." Law hissed at me, urgency in every syllable as the rustling of the ground grew closer, leaving crunching beneath unseen feet. "Hide."

I blinked at him, "I don't hide."

There was a crunch behind the tree to my right, a sound that didn't belong to an animal. My body moved on instinct, muscle memory taking over as my hands clutched my bat, fingers tightening around familiar wood. I swung full force, the bat whistling through the air.

The man dodged last-second, wood splintering violently as I struck the tree instead. A man in all black sank into the night, his silhouette barely visible, the only exposure being the moon, giving me enough light to see the outline of his body. Law came from behind, putting his forearm on the man's neck, making him struggle to get out of his hold, gasping for air.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Law pressed the man tight against the tree, not seeing me swing until it was too late. He shifted, moving into the bat's arc just as I swung. The crack echoed as my bat connected with both the intruder's shoulder and Law's forearm in the process.

"You hit me too, you asshole!" Law hissed, holding his forearm as his body was slightly bent over. That was what he gets for being in the way.

The man grimaced, clutching his ribs with one hand. "Jesus fuck. You swing like you've got something to prove."

As he caught his breath, the man reached up and pulled the mask from his head, catching it on his ear before coming free. Recognition flashed in Law's eyes when the man exposed himself.

"Chet?" Law squinted, disbelief evident. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The man—Chet—looked between us, confusion writing itself across his features. "Trevor?" His eyes darted from me to Law.

I looked between them, Law answering my non-question. “Chet’s a gravedigger. I’ve worked on a lot of cases with his clients.”

It was this Chet man's turn to ask a question. "How do you two know each other?"

"I'm his son-in-law."

Law's jaw tightened, tendons about to pop. "Don't introduce yourself as that."

Chet's attention lingered on me, recognition slowly dawning in his eyes. "Wait—Oakley's husband?" When I stepped forward he quickly added, "She delivers baked goods to my girlfriend. Your wife's got quite the reputation for those pastries."

My eyes narrowed at the familiarity with which he spoke of Oakley, swinging my bat again, it connected with his hand as I put pressure on it until it popped. "Don't fucking talk about my wife."

Chet studied my face, eyes roaming over features I knew were unsettling. He studied me, rubbing his reddening hand. I hoped I fucking broke it. Law got between us, his body a barrier, pushing my bat off him with more force than necessary. "Look. We aren't doing anything illegal. I don't know why you're here, but you can leave."

Chet straightened himself against the tree, wincing as he moved. "No can do. A friend asked me to check his house out, and that's exactly what I am doing."

Law scoffed now, disbelief evident. "A friend?"

Chet blinked, innocence that didn't match his scarred hands. "I have friends."

I pressed closer, invading his space. "Who?"

"An old friend of yours." This guy was getting on my fucking nerves, each word grating against my patience. I positioned my bat to strike again, wood whistling through the air, butChet threw his hands up quickly, stopping me mid-swing. Arms stretched out in surrender, palms facing me.

"Darrell sent me." My eyes moved to Law, who had the exact same reaction, shock written across his face. “I need my fucking hands, asshole.”

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