Page 41 of Behind the Shadows

“She’s friends with the Pied Piper.”

The room dropped into silence so heavy I could feel it clawing down my throat.

Then—crack.

Death’s fist slammed into the wooden wall beside him, splinters flying.

“Say that again.”

I stared at him, stunned.

Death rarely lost control. He was calm. Calculated. Deadly.

Dope sat up straight. “No fucking way, man.”

“She gave me his number. Told me not to keep him waiting.” I swallowed. “Like he was some goddamn dentist appointment.”

Death crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the collar of my shirt, and slammed me against the wall so hard the cabin shuddered. Pain shot through my spine as I swore through clenched teeth.

“Do you have any idea what you just stepped into?” he snarled.

“I didn’t fucking choose this,” I snapped. “He came to her. He’s been in her life. In mine. Maybe for years. And I didn’t even know.”

Death’s jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might break. His gray eyes looked hollow. Haunted.

“He doesn’t visit, Kip. He infects. He poisons everything he touches,” he gritted out and let me go.

Dope stood, crossing over to us. “What do you think he wants?”

“To finish what he started,” Death muttered. “He’s not done with us. With any of us.”

I couldn’t breathe. My skin itched. Like I was being watched even now.

“He’s already in my head,” I whispered. “Isn’t he?”

Death didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

“Ella hasn’t been the same since she met him,” Dope said softly, his usual sarcasm stripped from his words. He returned to his chair and grabbed his computer. “Neither has Sebastian. The Pied Piper gets into people and spreads like a festering wound. Makes them think they’re making their own choices when he’s pulling the damn strings.”

“But they’re not,” Death added. “They’re dancing to his fucking song.”

Dope’s fingers flew across the keyboard, and we waited while he worked his magic. A few minutes later, he turned the laptop toward us, screen glowing with a grainy photo. A group of smiling faces. Faded. Chilling.

“Recognize anyone?” he asked.

I leaned in, and the blood drained from my cheeks.

“That’s him,” Death said, pointing. “That’s definitely him.”

“And that’s—” I froze. “That’s mymother.”

Her arm was slung around the Pied Piper’s waist like they were old friends. Like he hadn’t ruined entire lives.

And beside them?—

“Uncle Vinny,” I whispered.

He was grinning. Alive. Happy. Standing next to a woman I didn’t recognize.