Page 47 of The Burdens We Share (Satan’s Angels #3)

Ivory

Brody’s been missing for two days with not a single lead as to where she could possibly have disappeared to.

Dallas has been working twenty-four hours a day to find her along with Harvey who looks so unkempt and disheveled, my heart hurts for him.

He has black rings under his eyes and his cheeks look sullen, his stubble growing darker from having not cared enough to shave.

Dallas has insisted I stay with him at his house until we figure out what’s going on.

He’s worried that whoever took Brody and messed with the traffic cameras may try to come after Aria and I next, so he’s back to being my bodyguard and has guys stationed outside the house at all times as an extra precaution.

He did the same for Aria, placing security around the house she and Sly share.

We’re all at Dallas’ today, brainstorming more ideas and watching more footage from around the city just in case.

While Dallas and Harvey have been working non-stop, Aria and I haven’t been able to sleep a wink.

Every time my eyes fall shut from exhaustion, I think about Brody and my eyes open back up and I watch more footage.

Selene looks awful and almost sickly, but her skin still looks flawless and glowy. I wish I could say the same for myself.

I’m seated at the kitchen table, watching footage on one of Dallas’ millions of laptops when Aria drops into the seat next to me, her hair tied up in a messy bun, amber strands spilling out.

She has purple circles under her eyes and she wears a baby blue matching sweatsuit.

“Hey, do you have a tampon? I think I’m getting my period and I forgot to grab one this morning before we left. ”

I nod, “Yeah, I’ll grab one.” I push out of my seat and through the room.

I feel Dallas’ eyes on me and look over my shoulder, “Going to the bathroom.” He nods and focuses back on the computer.

He’s anxious. I can see it in his face and I can hear it in his voice when he speaks.

He’s worried about Brody of course, but his anxiety is from worrying about me.

He’s scared that I’m going to go to the bathroom and never come back.

The last two days have consisted of him watching every move I make, from blinking to refilling a glass of water.

I make it to the bathroom in Dallas’ bedroom and open one of the many drawers he cleared out for me, reaching inside for a tampon.

I close the drawer and pivot to make my way back downstairs and behind the computer when my phone buzzes from the back pocket of my jeans.

It’s probably my mother or Sam because anyone else who’d be texting me is downstairs.

I ignore it and continue walking as a thought occurs to me.

Not everyone who would be texting me is downstairs.

Brody isn’t here. Could it be her? Anxious energy consumes me as I stop in my tracks and pull my phone out, immediately unlocking it and opening my messages.

I feel the color leech from my cheeks as my eyes take in the blocked contact on my screen.

My hands begin to shake as a million thoughts race through my head.

I click on the message and panic sets in as my fear comes to life.

Here, on my screen is a new text message from the same person who started texting me months ago. My stalker.

No.

This can’t be possible. Connor Mulligan is in jail. Dallas would know if he wasn’t and if that were the case, he’d do everything in his power to put him back in jail. This can’t be.

I’m so caught up in my anxiety over my stalker that it takes me a few moments to acknowledge the message he sent me, or rather the image he sent me.

There on my screen, in my hand, is an image of Brody, bound to a rickety wooden chair by her wrists and ankles.

There’s a gag in her mouth and I swallow a sob as I take in her fearful expression, the mascara trails that have long dried on her cheeks, blood coming from her bottom lip, and the pure terror on her face.

Trepidation claws up my throat as I read the accompanying message:

BLOCKED

I have something that belongs to you,

my sweet Ivory. I’m willing to give her

back if you cooperate with me

I respond immediately, my fingers shaking as I type my message.

ME

I swear to God if you hurt her, I will kill you

BLOCKED

Always so feisty. It’s one of the many

things I love about you

ME

Where is she?

I see three dots appear as he types his response, pressure building in my stomach.

They disappear and then reappear and then a moment later they’re gone again.

I have to force myself to breathe so I don’t pass out.

I thought this was over. I thought Connor being locked up was the end of this, the end of having to look over my shoulder and be afraid of my own shadow.

I never thought I would have to feel fear like this again.

But something more unsettling rises to the surface of my thoughts.

He took Brody because of me. If something worse happens to her, it’s going to be my fault.

That realization tears me to shreds inside worse than any fear of him.

Another realization comes to me. If Connor Mulligan is locked up, then who is texting me right now? Who’s the man that kidnapped Brody and tortured me for months and how the fuck did he manage to trick Dallas and Harvey?

My phone starts buzzing in my palm and my eyes widen as I realize he’s calling me.

Oh my God. Every instinct is telling me to decline it, toss my phone on the floor, and stomp on it until the glass shatters, but that isn’t an option because Brody’s life is at risk.

I pick up immediately, “Where is she?” I rush back into Dallas’ bathroom and lock the door.

I know nobody could hear me from his bedroom in this giant-ass house of his, but I need to be safe.

A deep laugh sounds from the other end of the line and I realize this is the first I’ve actually heard him. “Oh my sweet girl, how I’ve missed you,” his voice is amused but it seems forced, controlled. Unreliable in a way that tells me he’s volatile and could snap at any second.

“Where. Is. She?” I repeat myself.

He sighs, “She’s in front of me.” He sounds impatient.

“And where might that be?” I ask, pressing him.

He chuckles on the other end. “Now why would I tell you that?”

I pause. What fucking game is this psycho playing?

I open my mouth to attack him verbally but stop myself.

I can’t risk triggering him because if I step out of line or anger him in any way, he may retaliate and hurt her.

Unfortunately, he holds all the power right now.

The best I can do is play into his hands and make him think I’m complying without being too obvious.

“Because obviously, you want something. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have taken her, right? ”

I can hear the grin in his voice, “You really are beauty and brains.”

“So I’m right?” I prompt.

“Yes.”

“What is it you want?” I ask, trying to keep my voice confident.

“Guess,” the word comes out so suspenseful.

There’s only one answer that makes sense in all of this. “Me,” I stammer.

He chuckles, “Right again, darling.”

I knew from the second I realized he was responsible for her abduction that this was what he wanted.

Me. I knew it and yet I still wanted to hear him say it because a part of me is still in shock and disbelief that this is really happening.

There’s one other thing I know for certain aside from the fact that Connor isn’t really my stalker and that my stalker was biding his time and letting me think I was safe so that he could strike when my guard was down, and that fact is that I will do any and everything in my power to get Brody away from him.

Which is exactly why I say, “What do you want me to do?” Defeat thick in my voice.

“Don’t sound so sad now, Ivory. I promise you’ll learn to love me just as much as I love you and soon you won’t even remember Dallas’ name,” the way he says Dallas’ name has me furrowing my brows. He says it with such familiarity as if he’s said it a million times before.

The thought makes me nauseous. How delusional is this guy?

How could he ever possibly think I would want to be near him let alone love him after he stalked my entire life and tortured me for months?

Anger simmers beneath the surface of my skin, but I bite my tongue for Brody’s sake.

“Tell me what I need to do before Dallas comes looking for me,” I press him.

Any moment, Dallas is going to come up here in one of his frantic and worried states to make sure I didn’t vanish.

He gets right to the point, urgency in his tone and the amusement from seconds ago gone, “Meet me at your movie set. Come alone and tell nobody where you’re going.

You leave that phone of yours behind so that techno boyfriend of yours can’t track you.

If you tell anyone, I will kill her. Understand? ”

Tears well in my eyes at the thought of him hurting her because of me. “Yes. I’ll be there. Please don’t hurt her,” I beg.

His voice softens, “Oh it sounds like you’re going to cry, my love.

Don’t cry. I won’t hurt her as long as you follow my directions.

Be here at nine,” he adds. It truly gives me whiplash how he can go from his delusional state of love and soft voices to demanding and aggressive.

He’s unhinged, unstable, and I am absolutely terrified.

“When I get there, you’ll let her go?” I clarify.

“Yes. Cross my heart and hope to die. Your friend will run free and you and I will finally be together like we’re meant to be,” he promises.