Page 113 of Behind the Shadows

He waited, letting his words soak in as the color drained from my cheeks.

“Don’t worry.” His laugh sounded hollow to my ears. “I turned off the camera and sound several times. Those private times were for you. I had no interest in your twisted sexual appetite.”

I had no other choice but to believe him because I couldn’t fathom the other option. “Why? Why did you wantmeto have the necklace?”

An evil smile twisted his features. “Because you were always meant to be the perfect weapon, Kip. And I have to say, you’ve done an exceptional job.”

Cold sweat broke out on my skin, fear creeping down my spine.

“With what?” My voice shook with my question.

“Do you remember the first time you met Death? Because I do.”

My world tilted on its axis as all the puzzle pieces snapped together at once.

“You used me,” I said, the words like glass in my throat. “You planted me beside him. Like a fucking watchdog.”

“You were planted, used by me to keep track of him and everything he did. When he killed, you were there, when he disappeared, you and Dope looked for him. I knew the plan for the society, when he met Ella … every single moment of your lives, I’ve been able to keep up with.”

“That doesn’t explain why I would black out and find myself in a basement and not remember shit.”

The Pied Piper rubbed his jawline, his cold eyes flat and void of any emotion. “We met and you updated me on what I needed to know. Sometimes the camera wasn’t enough.”

My heart fucking sputtered in my chest, skipping several beats and struggling to start again.

“I met with you face-to-face?”

“Yes.”

I nearly doubled over, my ribs splintering beneath the weight of it. My betrayal wasn’t a crack—it was a rupture. A goddamn implosion. I had wanted to know the truth for so long, but now it would destroy my entire world and everyone I loved, including my best friends.

“Why are you telling me all this now? If you were using my cross to keep up with everyone, why tell me about it?”

The Pied Piper flashed me a wicked smile. “Because I don’t need you to keep me posted anymore.”

“Which means you have someone else.”

His smile widened. “Kip, you and Death were created by me. For me. Your entire lives have been orchestrated by me. Youbothare my sons, so to speak. I want you both to come home and work for me. You’re a team. You trust each other, and whether you like it or not, you both have been working for me anyway. It’s time to reunite my family, including my daughter.”

The world shrank to the size of a pin, a single point of pain lodged directly into my head. “You’re not fucking serious.”

He patted his leg as if to emphasize his words. “But I am. Haven’t you wondered why you always find your way back to me? Why your crew has never been torn apart by law or blood? Why, no matter what, I always come up aces and you always survive?”

His right hand twitched, as if he was smothering a smile or a scream. “You are in my family. Granted, not blood related but you know that means nothing. You are mine.”

Mental images glitched through my mind: flashes of chrome and blood, secret basements, me gasping awake and not knowing how I’d gotten blood under my nails. And behind it all, the thin old man in the tailored suit, whistling a children’s song as he watched us burn down the world.

The curtain ripped away, and I saw it. All this time, when we’d thought we were the ghosts in the pipeline, the ones above and outside the game, we were just running along lines he’d drawn for us in invisible ink.

I could run. I could kill him. My fingers itched for my knife—but even as my impulse surged, another part of me, foreign and icy, stitched my palms to my lap.

“You never had a say in this,” he said, circling me. “You were made to be a weapon. The necklace is simply a reminder, a keepsake, in case you got sentimental and started thinking you had choices.”

Bile rose in my throat, and I struggled to stand. “No,” I said. “I’m not helping you anymore.”

“You are,” the Pied Piper said, but his voice had lost all pretense of warmth. “I have always known what you were, even when you tried not to know it yourself. There is no leaving this family. The sooner you accept it, the sooner we can begin the next movement.”

The word “movement” hung in the air, festering. The Pied Piper walked to the window and parted the living room curtains with a single, spidery hand. The daylight had faded, but the forest outside appeared washed out and brittle, as if something evil waited just beyond the glass.