I tower over her. The anger pumping through me so strong it’s hard not to shake the hell out of her. I left her alone with the Riot. I left her alone and they let us leave. “Did you make a deal with the Riot for our release?”
“I was going through the files to search for pictures. Just pictures.”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“It’s just pictures, Chevy. Calm down and I’ll show you.”
It’s not just pictures. She wasn’t just looking for pictures. Violet made a deal. She found a way to set us free and she’s willing to betray the club to do so.
I release Violet, then run a hand over my face. Cyrus—damn. Cyrus needs to know. So does Eli. Both of them will be crushed. Screw that—I’m crushed. “Why couldn’t you trust us? Why couldn’t you trust me?”
Because this is a betrayal. A betrayal they’ll never forgive. A betrayal I’m not sure I can forgive.
“Chevy!” she shouts. “Look at me! See me!”
I swear aloud, then do what she asks. Head to toe. Once, twice and on the third time my mind goes numb as if I was hit in the head. Violet holds two fingers pressed against her thigh. The sign we created as children that we need to pay attention. Our sign that something is wrong. Signs we made up while we played, but continued to use because the adults in our lives are often complicated. My vision blurs, then returns with a clarity that’s deadly.
She’s in trouble. Violet’s in trouble and she’s not safe.
My pulse beats in my ears and my eyes flicker about the room, searching for the threat.
“Chevy,” she whispers. “Dad mentioned once he kept pictures of us in the front of his file folders because it would remind him why he worked so hard. I thought of that tonight on the ride home and I wanted to see those pictures. Wanted to remind myself why he worked hard.” Violet extends the pictures in her hands to me. “I found them.”
She continues to hold them out, encouraging me forward, and each step I take toward her is an echo in my mind. Violet’s not safe. Not safe. For how long? Since the basement? Before the basement?
“What’s going on in here?” Eli walks into the office, and while he’s playing it cool with his slow stride, his glare’s so sharp it could cut glass.
Violet lowers her arm, then rolls her neck. “Why does everyone think they can waltz into my home at any time of night like they live here? There’s this thing called privacy. You both need to learn about it.”
“Your brother called me.” Eli points at the hallway, then back into the room. “And so you know, the moment you crossed the threshold of this office, you entered my world.”
“This is my house,” she spits.
“But those files on the floor are my property.” Death. It’s there in his expression and I instinctually step toward Violet to be in the line of fire to protect her.
“Really? Your property?” Violet tosses the photos in her hand in his direction and they fall around him like confetti. “Didn’t see you in a single one and he called you his brother.”
Violet turns her back to him and that’s when I see it. Her intake of air, the rapid blink of her eyes as moisture fills the bottom rims and the slight shaking of her hands—fear. Same fear as the basement. Same fear seconds before she charged a man holding a gun point-blank on me. Same fear that has lived inside me since the moment we were taken on the side of the road.
The world zones out, then back in. She’s still in that basement. There may not be concrete walls, but she’s still struggling to adjust her eyesight to the darkness, still struggling to find light. Whatever the Riot said to her has kept her trapped and has her terrified for her life.
Like in the back of the car, I hook one of my fingers with hers. She glances at me, her forehead furrows and she mouths, Help me.
The ache hits so low I have to work to keep from flinching. Can’t remember the last time Violet asked for help. From the club, from her friends, from me.
I rip my stare away and it lands on Eli. He’s looking down at the photos and it’s a kick in the gut to see the pain of his expression. Each and every photo on the floor is of Frat, Violet, her mother and her brother. Each and every photo a smiling family. Each and every photo a moment that will never happen again.
“Go on upstairs, Violet,” I say in a low voice. “Get some sleep.”
Her eyebrows disappear behind her longer bangs at the mention of sleep, and I understand her concern. We’ve tried to sleep apart and it didn’t work. She talked about buzzing with me not around and I couldn’t relax. I lay in bed and flipped around as if I was attempting to rest on sharp nails.
“I’ll show,” I mumble. She briefly closes her eyes as if that’s what she had been wishing to hear.
Every now and then the crazy and wild angels who occasionally watch over me and Violet produce a miracle. I expected a fight from her, but instead she squeezes my finger, releases it and starts for the door. The way she hobbles, it’s obvious she’s in massive pain.
“You’re not supposed to be on your knee as much as you have been,” Eli says.
She hesitates at the door, back still to him, and her shoulders rise and fall with her deep breath. “Sometimes life doesn’t hand you choices. Sometimes the world is how it is. Sometimes you have to go down the path given to you.”
“Sometimes,” Eli says. “But sometimes people choose the harder path just to prove they can do it.”
“Sometimes, I guess they do,” she says softly, then leaves.
Eli and I wait in silence as we listen to her go down the hallway, up the stairs, and shut her door. Salvage. That’s what I need to do. Need to buy Violet and myself time until I figure out what the hell is going on—why she’s still so terrified.
“I’m responsible for this.” Eli looks at the pictures as if the memories are of war atrocities. Broken and bleeding limbs instead of smiling faces. “It’s my fault Frat died and this family is in shambles. It’s my fault Violet’s in pain.”
It’s what Violet says, but I don’t believe her and I don’t buy what he’s saying. “It’s the Riot’s fault.”
Eli presses his lips together, then bends to pick up the photos. “She was right. Frat kept a picture of them in each of his files. The guys used to give him hell for it, but he never cared. Frat loved his family. Loved them in a way not many people can understand and I stole that from them.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off as he starts on the files. “Go to her. I’ll clean up.”
“Anything important in those?” I fish.
He shakes his head. “Vending and purchasing invoices for the food and alcohol at the clubhouse. Frat was a man of many talents. Had a knack for keeping everything organized and in its place. We should have moved all this stuff by now, but no one’s had the heart to look at those photos.”
Bet no one’s had the heart to take anything of his out of this house.
“Do me a favor,” Eli says.
“Sure.”
“Tell Violet... Tell her I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“She’ll know. That’s all that matters.”