Not my fucking problem.
Walk away and come back when he's alone. Deal with it then. Don't do anything rash.
God fucking damn it.
The phone nearly rips my jeans with the force I use to tear it out of my pocket, dialing the only number I regularly do. It rings once, twice.Better not fucking ring a third time.
"Yeah."
"Kyle. I need every phone, computer, tablet, anything and everything at my current location searched."
A beat on the other end before he responds, wisely not asking me why or what the fuck I'm doing in nowhere,Nevada when I'm supposed to be in Alaska. "That'll take me a minute. There's firewalls and security all over the place."
I sigh, "Yeah that'll happen when a house is crawling with fucking hunters."
"You found one of their compounds?" Excitement lights up Kyle's voice, his desire to end this just as palpable as mine.
"Not exactly," I can't let him dream too big too soon. "Just a house with Isla's latest future husband and a couple of his friends."
He snickers, failing to hold back a laugh, "Isla's future husband, huh? Wow, I thought that would be y-"
"Don't finish that fucking sentence."
"Alright, alright." The humor doesn't leave his voice, but he's smart enough to leave it alone and not comment again, "Can you at least tell me what I'm looking for here? Narrow it down a bit?"
"Anything to do with Isla or the whole Parker family."
He scoffs, "Yeah, obviously, but what else?"
This isn't my problem. Not what I came here for.
"Search for sex tapes." Someone like Silas wouldn't just keep hard copies. He'd cover his fucking ass and keep a couple copies saved somewhere he thinks untouchable. "Whatever you find, scrap them." There's no telling how many victims of this scheme he's had.
"Got it. Give me a couple of hours to comb through it all, and I'll get it done." The phone clicks, and I shove the thing back into my pocket, considering my next move.
Not having Kyle on Isla duty any longer has been a godsend. I've spent more energy and resources than I'd care to admit on keeping an eye on her. Knowing she's home, safely fifteen feet underground in a desolate wasteland where no-fucking-body can reach her, makes everything else I need to do much more manageable.
Now, to empty the house.
Whoever called Silas must be very important. In the time this has taken me, he still hasn't returned to the party in his ostentatious living room.
The easiest way, the cleanest way, would be calling the police to come break up the festivities. But there's no telling how many of the local officers are in the Sanctum's pocket, no way to gaugewhether they'd take care of the victimized woman in the corner or if she's going to be lumped in with the rest of them.
My attention drifts back to the fire blazing, casting light and shadow across the room.
There's liquor everywhere. It wouldn't be implausible to think some might find its way into the fireplace, lighting the whole place ablaze.
But that puts the entire room in danger of getting caught in it and injured, or worse.
Stefanie's paranoia catches my attention again. Again, she wonders what's taking Silas so long. If I can just push a little, she might go in search of him.
And... off she goes, storming her too-thin frame down the hall where Silas disappeared.
One down, seven to go.
Walking quickly through the Aether, I knock on the door. Hard. Definitely loud enough that someone would hear it before transporting back to my creepy peeping Tom spot. One of the other hunters, sprawled across a lounger, languidly stands, yelling at the door that he's coming.
Jesus Christ, this is taking too long.
