Page 68 of Unmask
I reached into my pocket, fishing for my phone, and passed it off to him. I’d forwarded the photo from Kaylor’s cell to mine earlier. He zoomed in, eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the details again. Maddox was always the more meticulous one out of the four of us. “She’s not alone. Look,” he said moments later. “Here—do you see?”
We all leaned in. He enlarged the far edge of the frame to a mirror in the corner of the room, slightly cut off. A sliver of someone else reflected in the glass. Big. Male. Tall. Bearded. His face wasn’t visible, but I’d bet my life that it was Rusty. He was the one behind the camera.
“Fucking monsters. I’ll kill him,” Mason growled, always the first to lean toward violence.
He wasn’t the only one. My vision turned red, painted with blood I was eager to spill.
“We need to put a tail on Rusty,” Maddox said. “Follow him. See who he talks to. Where he goes.”
“Not just Rusty,” I said. “We need to know who he’s working with. Who else helped move the girls. There’s no way he did it alone.”
“That’s a long list,” Mason said. “Too long for just us.”
I hesitated. I hated what I was about to say. “You’re not going to like this,” I muttered. “But we need help. We need the Elite. Kaylor’s already involving Brock. If we don’t work with him, she’ll do it behind our backs.”
“I don’t like it,” Maddox said immediately. “We don’t bring outsiders in.”
“If it keeps her from running straight into the Vipers’ Nest,” I ground out, “I’ll break every damn rule we have.”
Maddox gave me a grin, eyes flashing. “Well, fuck. Didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”
Mason flicked the butt of the cigarette, grinding it under his boot. “We don’t let anyone touch what’s ours.”
I turned back to the skyline, the city glowing soft and golden under a sky too calm for the war we were about to bring. “They’re already dead,” I whispered. “They just don’t know it yet.”
And when we were done, they’d never forget the name Kaylor Steele. They’d sure as hell never come near her again.
Or they’d beg for death long before we gave it to them.
The cold followedme up the steps. I kept my hood low as I slipped around the side of Brock’s house, boots silent on the gravel path. The porch light was off, no dogs barking in the neighborhood, just the whisper of branches scraping against the roof and the dull hum of tension in my chest.
I keyed in the security code like I’d done it a hundred times. Brock hadn’t changed it. That said something. Maybe trust. Maybe stupidity. Hard to tell these days.
The lock gave a soft click, and I pushed the door open, softly shutting it behind me, and came face-to-face with a glint of steel. It was hardly the first time I had a weapon shoved into my face. Doubt it would be the last. I didn’t move, didn’t flinch, just stared down the gun barrel. The safety was off. Finger poised on the trigger, and Brock’s eyes didn’t blink.
But neither did mine.
Fuck.
So much for thinking I’d earned any trust.
Then again, I was sneaking into his house in the middle of the night, but he had to know I’d come back, that I wouldn’t leave her alone. Clearly, she wasn’t alone. He’d stayed. Did that mean his friends were also here?
A long second passed. Then he lowered the weapon with a grunt. “It’s a good thing you’ve got a recognizable face.Two more seconds, and your blood would’ve painted my damn walls.”
I arched a brow, slowly stepping farther inside. “You’re saying that like I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before.”
From the shadows, the rest of the Elite emerged. Micah near the stairs, Fynn from the hallway, and Grayson posted by the windows like a damn sentry. They hadn’t come to talk but to interrogate me.
I crossed the kitchen and leaned against the counter, arms folding across my chest. “All right. Let’s cut the bullshit. Say what’s on your minds.”
Micah went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He twisted off the cap with a flick of his wrist, the metal clattering onto the counter. “We want the truth,” he said, bringing the bottle to his lips.
“Everything you know. Start from the top,” Grayson added.
I glanced at the gun still resting on the counter in front of Brock, its matte black surface catching the overhead light. “All you had to do was ask. The gun’s a bit extra.” No one smiled or laughed. Sighing, I gave them the rundown of the Vipers’ possible involvement and the upcoming auction. I didn’t dress it up. Didn’t soften the edges, but I didn’t give them everything either.
Not yet.
