With Visions of Red: Book 3 (The Broken Bonds 3)

The fight still hasn’t left him, and he takes a wild swing, but I block his arm. “We’re done!” I shout.

“That’s fucking evidence! And it’s mine,” he says.

I know it’s wrong…but I can’t stomach the thought of Carson watching. I know what the UNSUB is recreating with this video. The scene he’s methodically orchestrated to depict Sadie’s torture. Having Carson witness something this personal to her…watching a moment in time when she was so vulnerable…

I squeeze the phone until I hear a crack.

Bringing myself back to my senses, I release the device. “Here,” I say, shoving it against Carson’s chest. “Find out if everyone in the department saw that, or if it was just us.”

But truthfully, I already know the answer. That scene was staged just for Sadie, whether or not the UNSUB meant for it to get to me, he wanted her to witness his act. I know she watched it. I can damn near feel her fear traveling right to me, this second. I whip out my phone and hit her number. Desperate, needing to hear her voice.

It goes to a generic voicemail recording.

“Fuck!”

Carson looks at me, then at my dead brother. “Shit, man. You’re having a bad day.”

It should sound as smug as his face—but I can actually hear empathy in his voice.

Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I look down at the floor. “Stay if you want, but I have somewhere to be.”

Sadie’s promise won’t mean shit after this video.

But I’m keeping mine.

I take off down the stairs, hating myself for ever letting her out of my sight.

9

Trace

Sadie

Everyone has a cherished object that transforms them. Changes them—even if just for a moment—into something else.

It could be a new pair of jeans. A fit so damn sexy it makes you put a little more swing in your hips. A cherry-red convertible so panty-dropping hot, it gives you a boost of confidence and the sex drive to match.

Whatever your poison, there’s an object to get you there. It’s a psychological phenomena that offers a perception of invincibility. Without it, we may never work up the courage to ask that certain someone out. Or demand that raise we know we deserve.

Those are all very obvious examples of lives that have never rocked on the edge—that have never been submerged in darkness. Devoured by its cruelty. But what about those of us who have? What do we deem necessary to transport us?

There’s an object that I valued. One that I used to wear to transform myself. Or more accurately—reveal a hidden side. That person only surfaced when my demons raged, and I needed to unleash the monster within to quiet them.

When I lost that object, however, I thought it was a sign. Perhaps it was time to try a different way to sate my inner demons. Discover a new, safer path where I didn’t have to loathe myself.

As I watch the tiny screen, hearing the shriek of absolute suffering, the scene playing out should mortify me. All that pain…all that anguish…should bombard me and make it impossible to discern any one signifying object in the dungeon.

But my eyes zero in on that small, revealing piece.

Hanging around Avery’s neck, it’s the only thing out of place in the scene. It doesn’t belong. I didn’t own the trinket when I was abducted at sixteen. It’s what he wants me to see. I’m the only one who can recognize the flaw.

He hasn’t wanted me all this time. No, he’s been trying to bring her back. The woman who slipped that necklace on as if she was slipping into a second skin. Who caressed the crest of the Blood Countess as she prowled the edge of the night.

The monster I

tried to bury.

“Sadie.” Quinn’s voice draws me out of my troubled thoughts. I glance up from my phone as he steals it from my hands. “Watching it again won’t help. You’re just torturing yourself.”