Page 105 of Scarred Sins
“Go through the back door! Run through the forest; you’ll find help there!”
I yell over the shooting. Some nod, trying their best to evade bullets as they scurry outside. The enemies don’t even notice them escaping, trying their best to keep up with my mother.
There’s not a single part of her body that isn’t covered in blood. Her hair’s sticky, and her hands are plunging the knives deeply into her victims. She throws one behind her, without looking, and it flies right past me. When I turn my head over my shoulder, I see that it hits a man in his left eye, and I’m just reminded of how great she is.
“Arlo!” She calls, and my eyes snap to hers. “Go to the basement, now!”
My brows narrow, but in this situation, I don’t get the chance to ask any questions. With a quick glance at Blair, who’s thankfully alright and can hold her own against these sleazebags, I quickly run toward the basement.
My footsteps are as silent as always, and I pick up the pace, pushing the door open. My eyes skim through the seemingly empty place. It’s the same size as the upper floors, with dirty, old mattresses scattered around.
My nose scrunches in disgust at the stale and rotten food in the corner of the room. Lord knows how long this crap has been here. It’s difficult to focus on anything other than the pure stench that makes nausea build in my throat, but I force myself to push it down.
There’s a single desk with some papers on top of it. I’m still puzzled as to why Mom sent me here, and without wasting a single moment more, I reach for the stack of papers, skimming through them.
They’re mainly irrelevant, from some newspaper articles and tax reports. The tax reports and the deed to the house are in such a fucking weird place. Why the fuck would anyone leave them in the basement, to rot away with the food?
Unless they wanted us to find them, in which case, all of this is a big, fat trap, and I’ve fallen for it.
They’re all addressed to the same person – Finley Wilson. There’s nothing on him here, not who he is, age, or description. Even the name itself doesn’t ring any bells, because we haven’t come across the man in all of the background checks and thorough stalking of these men. I fold the papers and tuck them in my pocket, mentally making a note to ask Lucas to look him up.
I’m about to leave, but a single thing causes me to halt.
It’s a passport. Well, not one, not two, but three passports. One of them is American, the other one is British, and the third one is Russian. Given how many fake IDs and passports I’ve had, I can tell these are fake, but they’re of brilliant quality, and I highly doubt the control would be able to tell they’re not real.
I open all three, laying them on the table. It’s fucking bizarre – none of them have a photograph on the inside, almost as if they didn’t want me to see how the person looks. They were all issued six months ago, and when my eyes fall on the name, I feel my world spinning.
Lump forms in my throat, and I’m unable to tear my gaze away from the passports. I blink, trying to realize whether or not my mind is playing tricks on me, if all of this is nothing but a hallucination.
Luna Collins.
My heart swells, and I don’t know if it’s relief or horror. If Luna is alive, that means that Adams’ has had her all this time, and the mere thought of what she must’ve gone through is enough to send my mind into overdrive.
If it’s one of their dirty tricks to throw me off guard, it’s working, because I can barely focus. With trembling hands, I take the passports, tuck them in my pockets, and pause for a moment, trying to swallow this information.
Then it clicks.
All of this was a fucking trap.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts when the small alert device buzzes in my pocket, creating a hole in my jacket from the intensity. Immediately, I cuss under my breath and run up the stairs, not bothering or caring if a bullet hits me.
Fuck.
My heart thumps against my ribcage furiously, sweat covers my forehead, and I’m barely functioning. I shoot as I run, taking out any obstacles that come my way. A single minute is all it took me to get from the basement to the door where I left Blair.
A single fucking minute was enough for them to get her.
My heart sinks to my feet, and I’m seeing red.
Blair’s not there.
“Blair!” I yell out into the darkness, stepping outside. A creaking noise under my foot stops me, and I realize that I’d just broken the twin device that was with Blair. On the grass just outside the back door of the manor is the device, with the unused poison next to it, undamaged, and Blair’s satin ribbon.
But Blair’s nowhere in sight.
THIRTY-THREE
ARLO
