To Capture a Thorn (The Society 2)

Wearing a pair of jeans and a white shirt, I threw on a pair of sneakers and ran my fingers through my hair. I grabbed the envelope and walked downstairs toward Lucas’s office. The fire was lit, I imagined by his staff. Walking over to it, I screwed up the envelope along with the instructions and then tossed it inside.

I pulled out my cell phone as I made my way to my car, sending a text to Gideon to let him know something had come up that I needed to take care of. Inside my car, I turned my phone to silent. The last thing I wanted was to be hearing the buzz as it went off.

There was no need to put any coordinates into my Sat Nav as I knew where I was going. I was nervous. This was an order of The Society, and to be honest, I didn’t know what they wanted me to do, or why.

While I drove, I wondered what they could want me to do.

No one had been very forthcoming when it came to The Society. My father rarely gave any insight other than the importance of following the rules, of trusting them.

I had some serious trust issues with them, considering the video of me, the guys, and Sian was out there, and it wasn’t supposed to be. Again, did I have an issue with a secret organization or Sian’s dad?

The drive was long. I made a few stops along the way.

It was cold, and I ended up turning the heat on as I arrived in this small town. As I drove through the main street, I saw it was a busy place. Glancing up at several signs, I noticed they were having some kind of Halloween festival. From the looks of things, it brought in a crowd.

I spotted the bank up ahead, and I pulled into an available spot. After turning off the ignition, I climbed out and headed inside the bank, being careful not to draw attention to myself. I didn’t know the rules.

Upon entering, I got in line, waiting.

The bank was small, quaint, and had that small-town vibe to it.

I rarely visited my bank in the city.

The line went down really quickly and it wasn’t long before I smiled at the cashier behind the desk.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m here to check on my box,” I said.

“Name?”

The Society didn’t give me a name. “William Martin.”

She stopped clicking on the keyboard. Her smile was still in place. “Follow me.”

Now I was a little freaked out.

Her hands had been poised on the keyboard to type in to find me and now she wanted me to follow her without typing a damn thing. I listened to orders.

She put up a sign saying she’d be back in a minute, and then we were walking down a short corridor.

“Your box will be here any minute,” the cashier said as she showed me to a small private room.

Something on her cuff caught my attention, and I saw the tattoo. It was pretty hard to miss on the inside of her wrist.

The sign that said she was part of The Society. I kept still. She had been expecting me today.

Minutes passed, and finally, there was a knock at the door. The cashier had returned with my box. “Leave it empty and walk straight out after you’re done.”

She closed the door.

Okay, I wasn’t going to freak out. I did feel a little sick. Fuck, this shit was intense.

Putting the key into the lock, I snorted. It was the perfect fit. Here I was thinking I was going to struggle to get the thing open, and nope, it popped right on open as if by magic.

Of course it did.

I twisted the lock and heard the subtle click as it opened.

I lifted the lid and fucking froze.

Not every day you see a syringe inside a box that clearly contained some bad shit.

Another piece of paper and a cell phone.

Before I grabbed anything, at the last minute, I noticed the latex gloves waiting for me. Blowing out a breath, I got the gloves and slid them on, trying not to lose my shit at the thought of what could have happened.

Holy shit balls, this was too fucking much.

With the gloves on, I grabbed the note.

Another location was written down with the instructions telling me what to do. I didn’t like this. It was signed TS at the end. The Society.

I shoved the letter into my back pocket, picked up the cell phone, and then took out the syringe.

This was some serious fucked-up shit.

With the box empty, I took the key, because I had no idea what else I was supposed to fucking do. I left the bank without a single fucking look at anyone. I had an overwhelming feeling of anger.

There was no doubt in my mind what they wanted me to do as I climbed into my car. Turning over the ignition, I pulled out of my spot and headed toward the trailer park. In the letter that I read, there was a small map, which I memorized and followed, coming to the entrance of the park.