He walked over and stood beside me, and we all turned toward the house. Relief settled over me, and it was the first time that I hadn’t felt weighed down in days—of course, other than when Gemma was in my arms yesterday morning. It was a breaking point I desperately needed, and although I didn’t take it any further than a surrendering kiss before the morning bell rang, it was enough to satisfy me until everything else was handled. One taste of her mouth could last me a little longer. The library wasn’t as tense last night either, as if we’d come to a mutual understanding. We were walking on broken glass, and one step to either side would cut us in the end.
Brantley grumbled under his breath. “You’re a fucking idiot for thinking otherwise.”
I pulled my black hood up, and Cade did the same. We slowly began creeping toward Judge Stallard’s house. My phone buzzed, and I quickly pulled it out, fearful that either Gemma or Shiner’s name would be on the screen, but it was my uncle.
Uncle Tate: I tell you that the SMC has set a meeting to revoke your probation and you skip off in the middle of the fucking night and test the waters? Did Bain leave this late? Or was it Gemma this time? I swear to God, Isaiah.
Me: Neither. This is purely business. I’ll be back soon.
Uncle Tate: You better not get caught walking the halls this late. They won’t believe that you are walking back from tutoring. Not after Mrs. Fitz caught you at Gemma’s door after midnight.
I shovedmy phone in my pocket and brushed off his warning. I knew what I was doing. In the past, Bain would sneak out during prime time. The time where he knew the duty teacher would be walking. Or better yet, he was probably the one to tip them off. He’d wanted me to follow him from day one. That wasn’t his goal anymore. Bain had desperately tried to get me kicked out of St. Mary’s for months, but now his plan shifted to Gemma. He had something else brewing, and it no longer included me being expelled.
“So, you mean to tell me that we’re about to sneak into a house this big, and we’re not going to trip any alarms?”
A deep chuckle rumbled from my throat. “I hate my father, but he taught me well. Alarms and cameras are off. Even the hidden ones.”
Richard Stallard was asleep in his bed, unknowing that the three of us were about to uncover every last secret he held between his thick walls.
“Whatever you two do,don’t let me fucking kill him.” My hand rested on the knob of a door that was on the side of the Stallard Manor. It looked as if it led to a basement as it was below the ground level of the house.
Cade’s arm brushed mine as he and Brantley stood close. “What exactly do you think you’ll find here?”
Shit that was going to make my blood run cold. I didn’t say that, though. Instead, I said, “Hopefully something that will solidify the fact that Judge Stallard runs the Covens and how much he does at that fucked-up place. Uncle Tate and I both think he sends criminals there, deeming them mentally ill, but instead of sending them to the actual psychiatric unit, he’s sending them underground.”
Brantley gritted his teeth. “He probably sent my father there.”
It was possible. Or maybe Richard’s father had. I had a hunch that it went back further than we thought.
“What else do you plan to find?” Cade poked, stopping me before I picked the lock. “No more hiding shit, Isaiah. We’re on your team. Let us play.”
I began picking the lock, my fingers nearly numb from the cool air surrounding us. “I need to know why Gemma is running from him.” My teeth snapped as I thought of her terrified face the first time I’d mentioned his name to her. And the scars. “He’s hurt her, and I want to know to what extent.”
“Fucking bastard.” That came from Brantley, and I almost smiled. He could put on a good front and act like he was above women, but deep down, he was just as protective as I was. He only pushed girls away after he was through with them because of buried trauma. I had been the same way—until Gemma.
The house was eerily quiet. Not a single sound was heard. No buzzing of the heat as it ran through the walls, no trickling of a leaky drain, not even the soft whirl of the refrigerator, which meant that I was correct. We weren’t on the ground level. We were beneath the main floor. I tapped both Brantley and Cade on their left shoulders, and we all turned that way, using a small flashlight to tell us where the steps were. They creaked under my weight, and we all paused, ears on alert. Part of me wished Richard would wake up and come down here. I wanted to look him dead in the eye and ask him some questions. For starters, like why he wanted his niece to call him daddy. The thought of overhearing their conversation a while back lurked in the deepest part of my brain.
“Basement.” Cade’s deep whisper floated around us, and we inched down farther.
The basement wasn’t finished. There was no carpet beneath our feet or flat screen TV plastered onto the wall with sports paraphernalia in frames surrounding us. It was dark and bleak, and it sent an icy punch to my chest.
Something splashed beneath our footsteps, and I brought the flashlight up and slowly began scanning the area. My heart was in my gut, and it kept falling as I spun around, pausing on something in the corner.
I walked over to it, the floor damp under my shoes. The smell of mildew and dirt wafted around us, and when I reached the metal chains, I craned my neck, seeing that they were attached to the ceiling. If he...
Sickening thoughts were hitting me from every angle, and suddenly, I was alone. Brantley and Cade were no longer there. It was just me, in the dark basement, kneeling in a spot that I had a high suspicion that Gemma had once been. Visuals of her raw wrists, the pink raised skin that she guarded above anything else, made my blood pressure spike. My head fell forward, and my chest heaved.
“Isaiah.”
I cautiously raised my head and grabbed onto the hanging chains with small cuffs around the bottom. I pulled myself up, shaking with the overwhelming need to pull them the fuck out of the ceiling. My thoughts were on a rampage, and I couldn’t focus. My heartrate was through the roof, thundering behind my ribs.
“What are these?”
More silence passed.
“Isaiah, fucking speak.”
I glared over my shoulder at the two shadows behind me, feeling the room shake around us. “They’re chains.”
“For what?” Cade asked, stepping forward, keeping his voice low. His firm grip peeled my fingers away from the metal digging into my palm, and he hesitantly raised the cuffed bottom closer to his face, inspecting it. His eyes flicked to mine, and Brantley swore under his breath.
“Jesus Christ.”
His office.