Holden shrugged. “Orion Dechane went missing two weeks ago. He’s already dead. If Laird was using him to lure Kit out, he would have contacted us.”
“Then why,” James started, then grimaced.
That smiling school photo burned into Kit’s mind. Hair trimmed too neatly, too boyishly, to be trendy. A parent probably made him get a haircut before portrait day.
Did Dad take new photos of Orion? Had his hair grown longer by then?
Did it obscure any of the bruises?
Kit unclenched his hands. With a shaky breath, he took hold of Darius’s wrist and squeezed. “It doesn’t matter. If there’s the slightest chance Orion is alive, that clock is ticking.”
“I don’t like this,” James declared, but fiddled with Kit’s phone and returned it. The case was warm from his touch.
Kit forced himself to open the text thread. The deleted conversation was there. No missed messages during the block. The silence was weirdly, sickly disappointing.
Fucking Christ. When Dad texted about the DNA search, he was already out.
“Get over here,” Kit said, leaning forward so Darius could look over his shoulder. He didn’t want to do this, but he didn’t have to do it alone.
James sat at Kit’s other side. Holden took James’s spot on the coffee table. Bishop lurked behind Holden. Not pushing in, because he didn’t need to. Kit wasn’t hiding anymore.
Kit’s hands shook with every letter, but he managed to send the message.
Kit:Where is Orion Dechane?
Seconds ticked past.
Stomach turning, Kit leaned against Darius’s shoulder. Pressed his knee against James’s thigh. He needed touch. Nota lot. Enough to ground him without getting sexual. As nice a distraction as that usually was, Kit was not in the mood.
Neither were the others.
“He might not reply immediately,” Bishop said gently. “I can keep your phone until he does. Or James could reroute the replies to his phone.”
Oh. Weird. Bishop was right. The absence of an immediate reply was fucking with Kit. He’d braced himself too hard to start this conversation. Now the other half was in Dad’s hands.
A reply would be awful. So would silence. Uncertainty was even worse.
“Yeah,” Kit said, trying to settle. “You can keep my phone. I’ll use Holden’s phone instead.”
“Of course, darling,” Holden said agreeably.
“Simp,” Darius muttered.
James brightened. “I can buy you more phones. How much storage do you need for your games?”
Darius rolled his eyes, and Kit didn’t feel all right, but he wasn’t about to vibrate out of his skin either. So that was nice, until panic buzzed through him again. Like touching an electric wire, recoiling from the pain, before registering the source.
His phone was buzzing. Not a text message, but a call from Unknown Number.
“Fuck,” Kit whispered, and hysterical amusement laced his panic. Fucking typical. Of course Dad would call instead of texting like a normal person. Kit was lucky he hadn’t learned about the DNA search through a cryptic “Call me.” text, punctuation included.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Bishop said.
“I really do.” Kit took a deep breath and held the phone in the center of the group. “Everyone stay quiet. I’m answering on speakerphone.”
He waited for James in particular to nod in tense agreement. Then he answered.
A beat of silence, before a too-familiar voice poured through the phone. “Hey, son. I’ve missed you.”
