Page 148 of Soul So Dark

A little hellion.

Now I have no idea what’s waiting for me.

“You want a job?” Brantley interjects.

“What kind of job?” I ask out of curiosity more than anything.

“Security. It’s better than patrols in the desert and Raf says you’re a good shot.” When I don’t respond right away, he flashes a sticky, syrupy smile. “Pays a lot.”

I bet there’s still a chance I’ll die all the same.

“Thanks, but I’m set.”

“Well,” Brantley shrugs, “our gate’s always open.”

“No, it’s not,” Wesley scoffs, making Cotton chuckle as he runs the needle back and forth over Aiden’s neck.

I arch one brow. “If byopen,you mean I’ll get a bullet through my skull.”

“Only if you don’t call first,” Brantley shrugs. “But don’t worry, I’ll give you our direct number.”

“Security for what?” I ask.

He casts me a smarmy grin. “When you’re on payroll, then I’ll tell you.”

I suppose you don’t maintain a compound with its own warehouses, fleet of trucks, airstrip, and hangar by running your mouth to someone you’ve only known for five minutes.

“Anyway,” I turn back to Aiden, “I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me shit. But I’ll tell you what, get some ink,” he nods to Cotton, “on me. I don’t have any skin left, so this is your last chance to squeeze more money out of me.”

“What money?” Cotton scoffs. “Last I heard, Old Man Rafferty cut you off for being seen with the likes of us.”

“Rumors. Take it up with yourniece,” Aiden taunts through slitted eyes. “I’ll be in the will at this rate. Besides, we have some time before we need to get out of here.”

I can’t tell if Cotton is looking at Aiden like he’s a petulant child or he’s about to snap his neck. Either way, it’s on brand for Aiden.

“So,contract killer,” Cotton turns to me, “what do you want?”

Initially, I was going to decline. Unlike most people I know, I don’t have any tattoos—at least not the traditional kind. Nothing else seemed important enough to etch into my flesh.

Until now.

Suddenly, my pectoral muscle spasms and I wince as the tremor pulls at my scar. I hate looking down and seeing it, of being reminded of what happened every time I look in the mirror. Without a word, I reach into my pocket and retrieve my phone. After searching through my photos, I find the one I’m looking for and extend my arm to show him the picture.

Cotton takes the phone and studies the image. A few seconds later, his eyes flick to me and then back down to the screen.

“Wow.”

???

When I step into my old bedroom, it feels like I step through a portal. After six years, everything is still the same. Even when I came back for Luca’s surgery, I barely stayed in this house for 24 hours. But instead of touring the museum of my youth, I go straight to the closet and throw open the door. I flip the light switch and crouch down to examine the bottom of the wall.

The jagged hole in the drywall is still here.

I don’t know what I was expecting or why I feel the need to look at the gaping hole that used to hold all my secrets. They aren’t there anymore. They’re somewhere else,withsomeone else, and I know they’re safe. I’ll see them again, just like I’ll see her again. But not yet. I still have things to do before then.

What matters is that I don’t belong in this room anymore, just like I planned. But when I shut the door and head back to the living room, I come face to face with a ghost. Not a ghoul with decaying flesh or a blob of transparent mist; this one is dressed in tailored pants and a Navy button-down. And the mere sight of him sends adrenaline coursing through my veins.