Leaving all thoughts behind, I run my fingers along the keys, hoping for some kind of familiarity to take over.
If this were someone else's, what would I do to try to figure it out?
What's important to this person? To me?
The date I first opened Balor.
Nope.
My birthday.
No.
BrigitDanaan.
Still no.
Fuck.
I can almost guarantee it has something to do with her.
There's nothing personal in this office that doesn't contain her face.
But I don't know her birthday or the date we met.
Should I ask Skyler?
He would probably know, but he might be busy beating the fuck out of some poor sucker right now.
If he and I are two sides of the same coin, he's the brash, flashy, in-your-face insane, while my misdeeds are best done under the cover of night.
Watching someone fight with their bare hands is better entertainment than someone painstakingly slicing into another person's flesh to bleed them dry.
Pulling out my phone, I Google myself.
A mistake.
But maybe if I dig through my past enough, I can find the night Brigit and I met.
Cormac Fomori. My name splashes across my screen, along with the moniker they've given me.
Bás Dorcha. A monster that kills in the dead of night, never to be found out. There are more photos of the tattoo on my neck than there are of my face.
That is absolutely intentional.
Even I know a handsome face garners too much sympathy in the public eye. It's easier to paint me as the monster I am if people only see the darkest parts of me.
That's the next thing I need to find out. Who did these? When?
So many questions swirl in my mind that I'm blindly scrolling through headline after headline.
Until a familiar face freezes my thumb in place.
Brigit.
Resplendent in the dress from that night. Even hidden in the background, with Skyler and me in the foreground, she's all I can see. Every curve, the lines in her nose as she scowls down at her phone, champagne flute dangling from her otherhand.
The article discusses my descent into madness, from pillar of the community, my philanthropic endeavors, a magazine cover about up-and-coming business owners, then more details about the progression of my tattoos and becoming a recluse before my arrest and subsequent trial.
