Page 236 of Soul So Dark

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Alex

Noah’s getting his ass handed to him right now, which is what he deserves after staying at our apartment a couple weeks ago and then revealing that his sticky fingers left with a brand-new bottle of bourbon from my liquor cabinet. I pick up my phone and casually swipe and tap a few times, waiting for him to notice the notification flash across his phone.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks, squinting at his screen.

“Asshole tax,” I reply with nonchalance.

“What?” he mutters, peering closer. “No!” he wails when he realizes what he’s looking at.

“Play bitch games, win bitch prizes.”

“Yo, are you kidding me, dude? How the hell did you do this?” he shrieks, gaping at his phone screen.

“Don’t fuck with me, bruh.”

My own phone buzzes on the desktop, notifying me that Noah just made a $100 mobile payment to me. Correction—thatItransferred $100 to myself from his account.

“Did you hack me?” he shrieks.

“I don’tneedto hack you,” I chuckle. “You’re so careless with your online security that I’ve been saving it for just such an occasion.”

“Fuck you!” he whines, much to my delight as he gives a swift kick to something out of frame.

It’s nearly 10:00 and I decide that this wraps up our weekly gaming date quite nicely. I also notice that Dallas isn’t home yet. I figured she’d be out later than usual because Shelby just returned from a summer in Colombia, but still, something feels off.

I check my phone again and don’t see any new texts.

ME (9:53PM): Still partying, Angelína?

10 minutes goes by without a response, which isn’t like Dallas who never has her phone more than an arm’s length away. Pacing back and forth across the living room, I call her. It goes straight to voicemail, which puts me on high alert. So, I call again, and again, and again with the same result. Then I pull up the phone locator.

Dallas’s phone is gone. There’s no signal being transmitted from anywhere. Panic rising, I swipe to the next screen linked to the GPS on her car.

What the hell?

I blink at the map, trying to figure out what I’m seeing.

The purple dot is right smack in the middle of the map, but nothing else is around her. I swipe to the next screen, which should tell me where Dallas’s physical person is.

It's in the exact same spot as her Mazda. But there are barely any roads, much less any recognizable structures. I zoom out to try and get my bearings. It’s a location at the county line and there’s no reason why Dallas should be there. I check the time stamps and my adrenaline goes into overdrive when I realize Dallas hasn’t been in the city for nearly an hour.

In an instant, I’m in the closet, pulling on my boots and loading my Glock. I’m about to run out the door when I pause and glance over my shoulder at the far corner. It only takes a moment to turn on my heel and decide to go back. I slide my dress blues away from the wall to reveal the body armor I haven’t worn since I died. I still have it, the rip in the seam still visible from the knife that almost sliced into me during the scuffle.

Grabbing it off the hanger, I sprint out the door and I’m in my truck and speeding through town in 60 seconds. I don't have time to call Colson, to explain everything, to tell him his sister—my wife—is missing and the only indication of her whereabouts is a dot in the middle of fucking nowhere.

And what the hell could he do from Colorado, Alaska, Canada, or wherever the fuck he is right now? I can’t stop. Because every second I don't search for her is another second toward a possibility I can’t bear to think about. So, I do the next best thing.

I call Aiden.

“What do you mean,missing?Didn’t you say you put a collar on her?”

“I can see her,” I snap. “She’s somewhere on the county line, 20 minutes away.”

“In Dire Ridge?” His voice hitches with intrigue. “Are you sure she didn’t just go back to Scott and Christy’s. Did you piss her off again?”

“She didn’t go to Dire Ridge!” I roar into the phone.“Just get the fuck out here!”