“Can we talk?”
Something inside me snaps. “No.”
“Please. I know you’re angry, but?—”
I slam my fist on the desk. “I don’t have time for this. My son is missing, and god help me if I don’t find him?—”
I snap my mouth shut before I say something I might regret. But that only pisses me off more.
Why am I still bothering to protect her feelings when she clearly had no regard for mine? She can say she cared about me and Scout all she likes, but what she was doing behind my back tells me everything I need to know about her true feelings.
Her cheeks flush red as she hastily wipes a few stray tears from her face. “I just?—”
My voice is cold as ice. “Once Scout is home, then we’ll talk. But right now, I can’t bear to even look at you.”
I don’t need to see her face to imagine the hurt in her eyes, but I don’t soften. I don’t offer her any reassurance that we’ll be able to get through this. Not when something fundamental has already been destroyed between us.
Trust doesn’t fracture cleanly. It rots.
Fiona backs out of the room, and I sit staring at the door long after it closes, my thoughts dark and spiraling.
Scout wouldn’t be gone if she hadn’t come into my life.
And the worst part? I can’t tell what is truth and what is a lie. Hell, for all I know, she could be working with Adrian too, and I had no idea.
As her footsteps disappear down the hall, a single thought anchors itself in my mind.
I will find Scout. And when I do, everyone responsible will pay.
And that includes Fiona if it comes to that.
Chapter Three
FIONA
There isa comforting sort of finality in death.
I felt it during my sister’s funeral.
Maybe that’s because I knew it was goodbye. It made it easier to let her go.
But this? Not knowing if Scout is alive or dead hurts ten times worse.
My brain is running a million miles a second, coming up with every possible scenario that could be happening to him right now, each one more gruesome than the last because I know enough about the Sullivans’ world to understand that being a child won’t spare you from the horror.
Even if Cormac does manage to bring Scout back, there’s no guarantee that he’s going to be the same happy-go-lucky kid that he was before.
“Oh god.” I clamp a hand over my mouth as I think of his sweet, smiling face.
I suddenly think of Lorcan and the threat he made against my niece, and my blood turns cold.
He’s the sort of sadistic bastard who would do something like this.
I lean against the kitchen counter, clutching a cold cup of coffee, trying my best to remember how to breathe. I hate how useless I feel, standing around doing nothing while Cormac and his brothers are working day and night trying to find Scout.
There must be something I can do to help.
Should I try to contact him? I might be able to use the information I found on the laptop as some sort of bargaining chip.
