Page 189 of Sins of the Hidden

Not my past. Not my future. Not anymore.

I had inherited a story written in blood and ink—but this chapter, finally, was mine.

My phone vibrated against the metal table, the buzz echoing through Hellbound's basement. Overhead light stuttered across the concrete—sharp angles and flickering edges that didn't belong to anything alive. My bloodstained wooden club rested within reach, its worn grip familiar in my hand.

The crematorium glowed low and orange in the corner, its open mouth radiating purpose. Knowing Oakley was gardening at her mother's house with Nyla and Joslyn gave me the freedom to focus on tonight's task.

My phone rang–my vows to Oakley filling the swirling air. I already knew who it was.

Law.

Again.

There was better things he could do than annoy the fuck out of me.

The bat shifted to my left hand as I raised the phone to my ear. "What?"

"Where the fuck are you?"Law screeched."I've been calling for twenty minutes."

"I know." And I've ignored every single one.

"Jesus Christ,"Law let out a frustrated breath."We need to talk."

The orange glow danced through the distorted air. "About?"

"What the fucks taking you so long to track these fuckers down? It's been a week."

That was what he thought.

Every night, I circled tighter. Security cameras glitching for seven minutes. Windows cracked open. Watches turned, photos flipped. Just enough to infect them with dread before I ever laid a hand on them.

I'd left Jensen's front door unlocked three nights in a row. Left a single bloody fingerprint on Tyler's bathroom mirror—not my blood of course. I wasn't a fucking idiot. Rearranged Karson's carefully organized desk while he slept fifteen feet away.

Each time I entered their homes, I carried Oakley with me—her image burned into my mind like a brand. The thought of her gave my hands purpose, steadied my breath. These men had touched what was mine, had broken something precious. They'd seen her vulnerability and hadn't recognized it as sacred. For that alone, they deserved everything coming to them.

It wasn't enough, but it was necessary—the fear before the end, the understanding of what was coming. They'd installed new locks. Karson had even gotten a gun. Fucking dumbass, a gun wouldn’t stop me.

The crematorium door eased shut, maintaining optimal heat before Law spoke again,"Clubhouse. Fifteen minutes."

"No."

"Do you want to hear what I got to fucking say or not?"

"Depends."

"I found them."

"So did I."

He chuckled,"So you have been busy this week."

Of course I'd been busy looking for them. Who the fuck did he think I was? No one hurt my fucking wife and lived with the memories of her suffering. Everyone needed to remember Oakley as she was—the best fucking thing to ever happen to the world.

"We go tonight?—"

Not good enough. "We go now."

A sigh."Do you not know how to be stealthy?"

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