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“Cut the crap, Sinclair. I’m not rehashing my past mistakes with you again. Just tell me what I want to know.”

Sinclair’s eyes narrowed, the edge in his voice returning. “The trail went cold here. I spent weeks canvassing the neighborhood, asking questions nobody wanted to answer. The kids—no one knew their names. The neighbors barely remembered seeing them, just fleeting shadows in the windows, lights flickering at odd hours. It’s like the house itself swallowed them whole.”

A heaviness settled over me as he pushed open the wrought-iron gate, its hinges shrieking. The front porch groaned beneath our feet. “I checked every room. No trace of where they went. Just a couple of worn sneakers by the back door and a half-empty box of cereal on the counter.”

We stood in silence, the wind ruffling the ivy along the eaves. Dust spiraled through a cracked window, catching in a single ray of afternoon sun. For a moment, I thought I heard the faint echo of laughter, the ghost of a life interrupted.

Sinclair turned to me, jaw clenched. “This is where it all stopped making sense. Every lead vanished. The one place I thought I’d find answers gave me nothing but questions.”

I studied the peeling paint, the secrets whispered by brick and vine. Whatever had happened at 31 Briar Patch Lane, it had left its mark—and not just on the house.

Without another word, Sinclair stepped past me, his shadow stretched long over the threshold as something told me I would not like what I learned next.

As we stepped into the house, a chill ran down my spine. The air felt heavy, as if the very walls were suffused with sorrow. Sinclair’s words echoed in my mind, the weight of his accusationstill fresh. I knew I had made mistakes, but the path I had chosen was paved with good intentions.

The house was eerily quiet, as if it were holding its breath. I could almost imagine the ghostly outlines of the children who had once lived here, their laughter and tears lingering in the air. “What happened to them, Sinclair?” I whispered, my voice carrying a mixture of fear and desperation. “Where did they go?”

Sinclair’s expression was grim as he replied, “That’s what you’re here to learn. But mark my words, Thena, this house holds secrets. Secrets that may change everything you thought you knew.”

As he spoke, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the floor, adding to the sense of foreboding that hung over the place. I shuddered, feeling as though I was stepping into a trap, one from which I might not escape.

Chapter Thirty

Bane

That same day, in Deadwood, South Dakota...

Lying there on the small cot, trying not to move, I thought back to the first time I met the love of my life and how much that moment changed everything. Not only for me, but for the club as well. Had I known who she truly was and the heartache both of us would endure over the years, I knew deep in my heart I would still do it all over again. Just to see her, to hold her, to hear her laugh. Even though we only had a few short months, those months sustained me through the years, and I could only pray that she held on to the hope that someday we would be together again.

“Diana,” I whispered her name as I closed my eyes and remembered the night we first met.

Inside my room, I quickly shut the door and locked it, leaning my back against the door and sighing. Shit, this was not good.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling as she looked around the space. I knew what she was seeing. All the rooms were the same. A large bed, a desk, and a bathroom. Nothing of me personally, but the bed sat prominently front and center. These rooms were for one thing only, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what that was. Staring at the enormous bed, she whispered, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t helped me.”

I saw a mix of gratitude and something else—a spark of determination in her eyes, and I nodded. “Sure. No problem. I’m August, by the way,” I added, offering her a hand. “And you are?”

She smiled up at me, taking my hand, and said, “Diana. Diana Cooper.”

As she took another look at the bed, I whispered, “Hey. It’s going to be okay. Nothing is going to happen. I don’t care what George said.” Walking over to the desk, I pulled out the chair and placed it next to her. “Here. Why don’t you sit here, and I’ll go sit on the bed? We can talk.”

She chuckled as she tentatively sat down. “I don’t think that’s what Barney had in mind when he told me to be here tonight.”

“How did you get mixed up with Barney?”

Sighing, she looked around my room, twiddling with her fingers as she spoke carefully. “I met him by chance. I was out one night with my roommate, and she introduced me to him. I knew I should have stayed home and studied.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I knew Angelica, that’s my roommate. I knew she wouldn’t stop pushing until I did. From the moment school started, she’d been trying to get me to loosen up and have fun. She was relentless about it too. Which is odd, because at first, she wanted nothing to do with me.”

“How so?”

Smirking, she looked around the room and said, “I’m a bookworm. I prefer books to people. I’m attending NYU because of the English Lit program. It’s one of the best.”

Diana hesitated, her eyes flicking down to her hands.

“She kept to herself for the first couple of weeks. She barely said two words to me unless it was about the thermostat or the laundry. Then, out of nowhere, she started inviting me tothings. Parties, late-night diners, concerts. I don’t know what changed, but she sort of adopted me. Decided I was her project, maybe.”