Lara

Molly meets us at the charter lot.

After agreeing Jillian should stay at Roland’s, with Evie and a man from Armand’s private security taking over when he has to go out, Armand insisted we take his private jet.

Mark surprised me by accepting quickly.

One of the perks is it can be ready to go in as little as twenty minutes—or however long the pilot needs to file the flight plans. So after an endless night, we slept most of the day, and flew out of the city at three.

Traveling back in time, we arrive in Seattle after six, quickly leaving the plane with our small carry-on bags.

Molly’s lips are tight. She won’t meet my eyes, and while I have no idea what it could be, I can tell something has happened. She’s wearing a short-sleeved black sweater and black pants. Her silver hair is swept over one shoulder.

“You’ve lost weight,” I say, giving her a brief hug she doesn’t return.

“I don’t have time to eat much.” She takes the handle of my rolling case and walks ahead of me, leading us quickly to the waiting Lyft.

We can’t talk about anything important with a stranger driving the car, and I spend most of the time chewing my lip in frustration. So much needs to happen in such a short period of time, and the pressure of what’s hanging over us, what’s to come, makes it difficult to think of anything neutral.

“What’s this?” Molly lifts my hand to study the engagement ring on my finger.

“It’s an engagement ring.” I manage to smile. “Mark and I are getting married.”

She nods, dropping my hand. “It’s different. Pretty.”

Her face turns to the window, and I lift my hand, studying my ring. The branches and tiny twigs that compose the band shine with newness. I haven’t had time to think much about the fact we’re getting married. We haven’t even set a date.

“It’s a moonstone.” I tilt it to the side, allowing light to filter through the iridescent gem. The lavender-blue heart glows deep in the center like an opal.

“Not a diamond.”

I can’t tell by her tone if Molly really cares, but I try to answer honestly.

“Diamonds seemed too perfect, too…” I still can’t seem to find the right words for why the brilliant, traditional stones don’t fit what Mark and I share.

He continues to disagree, insisting he will buy me a diamond once all of this is behind us.

Molly doesn’t pursue it. Instead she looks back, tilting her head to the side. “Where is… it? The precious cargo.”

My eyes go to Mark, who is silent in the front seat. His eyes never leave the road, but the muscle in his jaw moves. I can tell he’s thinking, planning.

“Somewhere safe.”

A little nod, and Molly returns to looking at the scenery. We pass under a bridge where a large sand sculpture of a troll reaches toward the road. It’s cartoonish, but it puts lead in my stomach. It reminds me of the evil closing in around us, reaching for us at every turn.

“It must be nice always knowing exactly what to do,” she says. “Always making the right decision.”

I don’t understand the edge in her voice.

I study her stony expression before trying to answer. “I wouldn’t say always.”

“But you give orders like you’re never wrong.”

I’m so confused. My face wrinkles with my frown. “Give orders? Never wrong? What are you—”

“We’re here,” she says, leaning forward as the car slows to a stop and opening the door before I’ve finished speaking.

Mark takes our suitcases out of the trunk, and we hustle up the steps to Joshua’s apartment. It’s a big, warehouse loft only partially converted to a living space. A wall of windows gives us a nice view of the city. A double bed is situated beneath it, and a desk with a large Mac is against the other wall.

A small sofa and vintage chairs are arranged in the center, and a small kitchenette is in the corner. A door I assume leads to a bathroom is beside it, and in the corner, partially hidden behind a screen sits an air mattress with blankets spread over it. I can’t help wondering how Josh can afford a place like this in the city.

“Is that for us?” I ask, nodding toward the air mattress.

“It’s the best we could do on short notice.”

“It’s great. Thanks. Is Joshua here?”

“He’s out,” Molly says, going to the small living area and dropping her phone on the table.

“Hopefully we won’t be here long.” Mark leaves our carry-on bags against the wall behind the door. “Did you understand my message? I didn’t want to say too much in case anyone was keeping tabs on us, but I worried it was confusing. I wasn’t sure you’d understand—”

“I found something.” Molly walks ahead of us, going straight to the desk holding the oversized monitor. “Something very… educational.”

She moves the mouse, and the dark screen flickers to life. In the center is a black rectangle with an arrow centered at the bottom. It’s a video, and she doesn’t hesitate to hit play.

The feed is like something from a gas station camera or a drive-through monitor. It’s black and white and tinged with a faint, greenish hue. Two figures are moving quickly around a small room, and it takes me a minute to recognize… I’m one of them.

“Pack, fast!” The one in the closet is pulling down clothes, speaking swiftly.

It’s Roland.

My heart beats harder as the realization washes over me. I don’t have time to stop this before the figure of me on the screen makes a startled cry, and snatches a large block of wood off the small bed.

The breath leaves my body so fast.

I can’t stop it.

I can’t stop what’s coming…

I watch as the image of me slams the club against the body on the floor over and over.

Black chunks fly up around my arms.

One lands on my cheek, sliding down and leaving a dark smear.

The noise is so loud, repeating and constant.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

The thing on the floor doesn’t move.

It makes a low noise and the image of me beats it faster, harder.

I’m like a wild animal, my dark hair flying.

Vomit burns hot at the base of my throat.

I’m going to be sick.

“Stop this!” Mark lunges forward, taking the mouse out of Molly’s hand.

Still, it takes several seconds before he’s able to shut it off.

My eyes are fixed on the flickering video of me beating Guy until finally Roland is able to catch my hands and stop me.

His palms smear what I know is blood in wide swaths up my forearms until the club stops over my head. His eyes are round and full of horror.

I collapse to my knees where I’m standing in the center of Joshua’s apartment. Leaning down, I put my forehead on my fists. All the feelings of that night when Guy burst into my dressing room, his eyes blazing with abusive lust assault me at once.

I’m back in that place again, unable to catch my breath and shaking all over. It’s fight or flight, and I’m cornered.

Flight isn’t an option. I have to fight, and I’m frenzied enough to beat a man to death with my bare hands.

I thought I forgot how this feels.

I’ll never forget.

* * *

Mark

“What the fuck, Molly?” Anger burns in my chest.

At the same time, the savagery captured on video has me shaken. I’ve never seen anything like what flashed before us in harsh black and white. Lara’s actions were so brutal, so crazed, they could only have been driven by deep trauma.

Trauma I never want her to relive.

Molly’s arms are crossed and her brow set as she stares at the image on the screen. The picture is of Lara with her arms raised. Roland is behind her holding them steady, holding a club the size of a baseball bat above her head. The top half of it is dark, covered with gore like her forearms, her cheek.

Even in poor-quality video, the scene is nightmarish.

“You lied to me,” Molly turns her back to the computer. “You let me believe he died in the fire.”

“No…” Lara’s voice is muffled. Her head moves side to side, and the sound is more of a moan.

“Give up this quest.” The girl’s voice is sarcastic, mocking. “Killing won’t bring you peace. It won’t take the hurt away. Yet there you are, seizing your peace with a baseball bat.”

Now that I’ve stopped the fucking playback, I drop to my knees and gather Lara in my arms.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, kissing her temple, smoothing back her hair.

She’s not crying. Her body trembles and her breathing is shallow, and I know she’s close to the edge. As long as I’ve known her, it’s her one weakness, her body’s involuntary defense against the onslaught of memory.

“Listen to me,” I speak softly in her ear, wrapping her in my arms. “It’s over. It was over years ago. I’ve got you. I’ll keep you safe now. Always. I promise.”

Another shudder moves through her, and I hug her tighter to my chest. My hand covers the back of her head, and I hold her forehead steady against my neck, skin against skin.

“I was so afraid,” she says barely above a whisper. “He was going to hurt me again. He was going to hurt Molly. It was never going to stop—”

“I know.” Rubbing my hands up and down her back, I soothe away the past. “I know why you did it. You had no choice.”

“You were gone… I’d lost you.” She takes a shuddering breath. “Roland said to live with it. He said Guy would grow tired of me and move on to someone new.”

Her voice is faint, as if she’s still there, caught in that dark place and struggling to break free.

“You couldn’t do that. You could never let that happen again.”

Her chin dips, and her hands tighten on my arms. She puts her feet under her, and I help her stand, help her find her footing. For a moment, she holds my arms, her head still bowed, but I can see she’s rallying. Another breath, another shake of her head.

“I didn’t have a choice,” she says, her voice growing stronger. She steps back from me, and there she is. She’s with us again, determined to survive. It’s another reason I love her, another reason I’ll never let her fight alone.

Turning to Molly, Lara meets her head-on. “What happened in that room wasn’t about revenge. It wasn’t cold or calculated.”

“You’re right.” Molly’s expression is angry. “It was spontaneous and fierce. It was vengeance. It was what I do.”

Lara shakes her head no, wrapping her arms around her waist. My lips tighten, and while I know she’s had her own share of trauma, I don’t like how Molly drives her.

“If I hadn’t stopped Guy, he would’ve gone on abusing me… and you… and the next girl… or boy. Just like he abused Roland before us.”

Silence falls on the room, and we’re momentarily derailed. Molly’s hyper-controlled exterior falters and her lips part. Lara dropped a bomb neither of us saw coming.

“Roland?” Molly’s response is hushed.

“It’s not my place to tell his story. He’s as much a victim of this as you and I. It’s why he took care of us…”

“Then I’m doing this for him, too.” Molly’s voice grows louder, stronger. “If Gavin would sacrifice him, you, the ones he claimed to care about… He’s a bastard. A worthless bastard who deserves to die.”

“He never cared about me. It’s like I told you then. We were always very secondary to him.”

Molly paces the room, silver hair fanning over her shoulders. Her arms remain crossed, and her slim brow is furrowed. “I’m so close to taking him down. So close…”

“Can we get back to the recordings?” Jillian is on my mind, and I don’t want to be away from her longer than necessary. “Is this the only one you found? Are there more?”

She stops moving. “It was my first hit after three days of searching.” Moving to the computer, she drops into the black desk chair. “It’s not as easy to find things as it sounds. I used all sorts of search terms. It’s possible he’s deleting the files.”

Ice filters down my spine. It’s what I feared the most—losing evidence to show Lara acted in self-defense. “Can he delete them once they’re on the web? I thought nothing ever died on the Internet.”

“He can delete them. If he knows how to hide them, he knows how to get rid of them.”

My muscles tense, and I look from her to the computer. “Show me what you’ve done. We have to find the evidence before it’s too late.”

“The video of my rape?” Her blue eyes are cold, her distance a wall.

“Molly…” Lara’s voice is a whispered plea.

“I don’t know what happened to you,” she says, looking at Lara. “I wasn’t there, and again, no one bothered to tell me the truth—”

“Does it help that they’re all close in time?” Lara cuts her off. “Molly’s was first, then Mark… then me.”

“I tried to save Lara… unsuccessfully.”

“It wasn’t a fair fight.” Lara puts her hand on my forearm. “He tried to get me away from Guy. Two men attacked him… They nearly killed him.”

Molly’s hands are on the keyboard typing quickly. “I found the one of Lara killing Guy using the terms dark angel, lights, and pussycat. Time and date stamps are helpful, but sometimes they muddy the waters. A lot of files are uploaded every day.”

She’s working in an unusual web browser, and it looks like she’s simply scrolling through lists of filenames on a white screen.

“It’s a database?” I ask, watching the list filter up the screen.

“If you didn’t know what you were looking for, you’d think it was just another pirate site. Porn videos or bootleg movies, ebooks, songs…”

A soft chirp sounds, and her eyes flicker to the smart phone lying facedown on the desk. She stands, leaving the screen open.

“I have to go. You’re welcome to search. I’ll help you again later.”

“Later?” Lara steps between her and the door. “Where are you going?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about.” Molly’s eyes divert, and she tries to step around Lara.

“I always worry about you. I’ve worried about you since you were a girl.”

“Don’t.” Blue eyes flash, and I see the two of them hitting that wall. I remember a time when it didn’t exist, a day in Jackson Square when Molly was still a happy kid holding Lara’s hand.

“Will you tell us what you’ve been doing here?”

“No.”

She snatches up her phone and goes to the door. “Search for what you need. If I can help you, I will. Otherwise, stay out of my way.”

Lara’s eyes meet mine, but it’s just like before. It’s like it’s always been. We can’t stop Molly from doing what she’s driven to do, fighting her demons, and now that we have Jillian, we’re even less able to chase after her.

“We have to find the videos,” I say. “It’s why we’re here.”

I won’t let Gavin threaten Lara. I won’t let him hold this over her head forever. The videos are our only hope, and the thought of losing them forever, drives me harder than whatever mess Molly is mixed up in.

The metal door slams shut, and I drop into the chair typing in phrases.

Dark angel, lights, pussycat…

I’ve got to find them.