Page 14 of Thorns of Silence

Erik didn’t like it, but he staggered away, stumbling and holding his arm at a weird angle. He might not be able to dance tomorrow or next week, but if he followed through and kept away from Phoenix, he’d be able to one day.

“Does your father know you’re playing stalker?” Ghost asked, pulling my attention to him.

Searing fury shot through my veins. The anger was strong enough that I had to choke it down. It burned in my throat, in my chest, marring my vision with a red mist.Father.The fucker was only a seed donor. A parent didn’t abandon his child when he needed him, leaving him to his enemy. A parent didn’t beat his children to make themstronger.A parent didn’t destroy his children.

I shook my head, forcing myself to inhale a deep breath before exhaling slowly. A clear head was imperative.

“No, and he won’t,” I answered, extinguishing my cigarette and reaching for the helmet on my bike.

He tilted his head, studying me for a moment or two before he gave it a subtle shake. “I’m starting to wonder whether you’re an adrenaline junkie or just plain crazy.”

“A little bit of both,” I said as I shoved my helmet in place. “Thank you for finding the fucker.”

“You’re getting the bill.”

Ghost was worth every penny. When someone was able to track down a person without even a name like he was, I learned they were more valuable than anyone else.

The engine of my bike revved and I hit the road. I had one more stop to make.

SIX

DANTE

Isped down the back roads, making my way to the heart of Paris where Phoenix and the girls rented an apartment. The location wasn’t bad, but the company… I’d rather take a bullet in my skull than share an apartment with four girls.

That had to entail a lot of drama.

I watched her yesterday. And the day before. I’d been following her for a week now. I learned she loved her routine, her piano, and her Instagram posts. I wasn’t big on any of the three, but in the past week, I’d had more of a routine than ever before.

The night after her sister got roofied, I hacked into Phoenix’s phone. As ordinarily structured as her life seemed to be on the outside, her Instagram posts, apps, and sites she visited seemed that much more erratic.

She’d commemorated all her milestone moments—with her sister and friends often in them—on Instagram for the past six years. First concert. First birthday in Paris. First drunk night. First heartbreak.

When I saw that photo, I couldn’t help but pause. A slick, black device and a diamond ring hung from a necklace. The device almost looked like the pager we used in the underworld. It was an odd thing for her to have. It couldn’t be from her father. He kept his daughters out of the underworld.

I scrolled through the post. There were hundreds of comments asking what it was, but she didn’t answer any of them. Yes, I actually went through all six hundred and thirty-five comments. None of them gave me any additional information on either item.

I wanted to know who gave her that ring. Ineededthe fucker’s name so I could track him down and smack the shit out of him. He must have hurt her badly. I could see it in her soulful blue eyes, especially when she thought nobody was looking.

I’d beat the fucking shit out of him. Of course, I’d never allow him to get her back. He missed his chance.

She’s mine now.

I pictured the way her eyes would flash with anger if she knew what I was doing, and I wondered whether they’d flash that same way from desire too.

I shook my head as I picked up speed, frustrated at something I couldn’t put my finger on. The girl didn’t make any sense.Ididn’t make sense around her. My reaction to her piqued my curiosity, and I just couldn’t keep away from her.

So I kept hacking into her devices, her phone, iPad and laptop, interested to learn all there was to know about Phoenix Romero. She was indeed a complicated human. The piano and classical music sites she visited weren't a surprise, neither were the blogs—ranging from fashion to food to travel.

I didn’t expect to find a list of adoption agencies in upstate New York in her browser history. Was Nix looking into adopting? It made no sense. Then a locked folder caught my eye. It was in her Notes app and she’d titled itOrgasm.Surprise, surprise. Nix saved multiple articles on orgasms, aptly named, “What to Do if You’re Struggling to Orgasm,” and included notes on how psychotherapy could help address sexual needs. And she seemed up for anything, judging by the articles she saved.

My gut feeling warned she wouldn’t be meek in the bedroom, and I found my lips curving with satisfaction at that thought. The good girl wasn’t all that innocent after all.

I slowed down when I spotted the familiar building and searched for a spot to park my bike.Bingo!There was one right under the Juliet balcony. It took me no time at all to climb up the fire escape and find myself on the other side of the glass door. I’d pored over the apartment layout so that I now knew it by heart and could walk it blindfolded.

I passed Reina’s spotless and very pink bedroom, keeping my footsteps light as I kept walking along the balcony. Then it washerroom.

Phoenix Romero. Nix. The bane of my existence. The girl who had become the center of my world.