Page 78 of Soul So Dark

He ignores my sarcasm and takes a step forward. “She doesn’t need you fucking with her head.”

Except that’s exactly what she needs right now. Because while I’m setting up shop in her head, she doesn’t have time to dwell on the horrific details of her sister’s death.

“Valiant,” I nod, gazing across the parking lot. “Did she ask you to talk to me?”

If I didn’t already know the answer before, his silence confirms it.

“Then let me know when she does.”

“Does her brother know what you’re doing? Maybe someone should enlighten him.”

I cock my head with intrigue. He must be some kind of bothered if he’s threatening to run off and tell Colson—mybest friend—some juicy stories about me and his sister.

“That’s a solid idea, Bos. Tell Colson your theory. You know how much he loves unsubstantiatedrumorsabout one of his sisters.”

He clenches his jaw, knowing damn well Colson would never take his word over mine.

“Since when do you give a shit about someone like her?” he shrugs. “She’s nothing special.”

I don’t know whether he says it to get a rise out of me or if he’s actually serious, but I’m about two seconds from making his face a permanent fixture in my grill. Instead, I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed with his strategy.

“I’ve been going in and out of that house since before your balls dropped. You think I don’t know what Dallas does when she thinks no one’s watching?” I smirk. “If you knew, I bet you’d think it was pretty special.”

That one lights him up.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about her,” he growls.

“Maybe not. But I bet it gets pretty slick between those thick little thighs of hers whenever I walk through that door.”

He glares back at me, then opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but thinks better of it.

Done with this conversation, I wink at him, duck into my driver’s seat, and slam the door. I’ve grown bored of Bostwick and his weak attempts at intimidation. I doubt he’s ever tasted blood on his tongue from a fist to the mouth or ever returned the gesture. And if I could ever be afraid of anyone, it certainly wouldn’t be someone like him.

I crank up my music and head home. I’ve been staying away from my house more than usual. I don’t feel like arguing with Adrian, and if I can avoid Luca until graduation, then I’ll be happy. On one hand, it maintains my sanity, but on the other, there’s no one to keep an eye on the things I’ve hidden away—the irreplaceable things. After what happened last summer, I’m not taking any chances.

As soon as I open the closet door, the walls start screaming at me, calling me to the one place I hope no one can see but me. Crouching down, I shove aside a tote full of camping supplies and run my fingers over the smooth seam on the wall, only slightly visible. The irony is staggering; my brother runs an entire contracting firm and, yet, I’m the one who knocked a hole in this wall and did such a shitty job repairing it.

Adrian would be mortified. But it doesn’t matter; the wall is still intact and everything hidden behind the scraps of drywall, spackle, and paint. I don’t know how long it’ll stay here. I can’t take everything with me, but I also don’t want to leave it here.

Dallas has seen some of my secrets. She doesn’t know what most of them mean, but I already know, without a shadow of a doubt, that if I asked her to, she would keep them safe. I’ll keep her secrets safe, maybe she’ll do the same for me.

Maybe she’ll guard them with her life instead of using them to destroy me.

???

The idea that I’m hiding out at Aiden’s house while trying to escape my own is laughable. The Rafferty house is a haunted Pandora’s box ready to burst at the seams, only more expensive. It’s like Siberia; cold, foreboding, and full of predators. But still, I run to the grey stone mansion with its marble floors, Persian rugs, and priceless black-market antiquities without hesitation.

The house is usually empty during the week. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Aiden lived by himself on the sprawling grounds. His father travels often, typically overseas negotiating land development deals. His stepmother, Alaina, may or may not accompany him, spending money and doing whatever the hell she does.

I’m waiting for Aiden to come downstairs so we can finally start a movie when I get a text.

DALLAS (7:34PM): Mads…which one should I wear tomorrow? Can u see either one thru this shirt?

Mads? She has to be referring to her friend, I think her name is Maddie.

A few seconds later, a barrage of images come through. The first one is a picture of Dallas in front of a bathroom mirror from the waist up, dressed only in a light pink bra. It doesn’t look like the Lutz’s house, though.

I glance up, tracking Aiden across the second floor as he disappears into another dark corridor. I scroll to the next picture, where she’s wearing a light grey tank top. I immediately return to the first, admiring her shiny black hair cascading over her shoulders, framing her round face.