Page 82 of Shattered Jewel
As she grabs the keys from Elara and heads out the door, she turns to look over her shoulder. “The rest of you take it pitch black, I assume?”
Reluctant grumbles all around.
Once Sasha is out of earshot, Elara turns to Maverick’s computer now in screensaver mode, a rotating slideshow of fantasy artwork and scenery from his favorite games.
“I’d like to look at all the documents Maverick put on that flash drive.” She adds pointedly while watching the screen with profound sadness, “Alone.”
Kaspian’s eyes shrink like he wants to deny her just for the hell of it, but I step in. “She has a right to see what her brother died for.”
“Let her,” Cav says. “But we’ll be just outside the door.”
Meaning it wouldn’t do Elara any good to try anything against us. Not that I believe she would at this point. She needs us as much as we need her.
To solve the mystery behind the Heart, I repeat inside my head. We don’t need her for anything else.
The thin fabric of her nightgown counters that thought. I cut my gaze to the side, unable to keep such sweet, seductive innocence in my line of vision.
Cav motions for us to leave, Kaspian strolling out first, then Wilder, then Cav. I linger at the doorway as Elara sits in Maverick’s chair, her hands stroking the expensive leather around her thighs. From the quiet sigh that escapes her lips, I sense it’s not to remember her brother but to feel the body heat Kaspian left behind.
“We forgot to think about one thing,” I say.
Elara jumps, and I realize I’ve waited a good long while before saying anything, and she thought we’d all left.
She turns her head in my direction, clearing her throat and gathering her bearings as she does so. “What’s that?”
“The recent missing girls.”
Elara angles her head. “Yes?”
The fresh cuts and old scars on my skin throb with their own heartbeats. My body strains as if crying out the answer to her. “They may not be dead.”
Chapter 21
Elara
Reading through Maverick’s notes, typed so meticulously, is like having him with me, pacing the floors behind this chair, muttering with his hands shoved in his pockets as he dictates to his computer, his eyes darting around, his voice growing more frantic while I slept in ignorant bliss down the hall…
Stop.
The vision retreats and I refocus on his words in front of me. Maverick didn’t die so I could double over and wail with grief six years after his death.
God. It took me six years to uncover his final messages and who he truly was, what he was trying to do…
All because I burrowed into the darkest pocket inside myself and gave the rest of my empty space to an imposter. A happy, perfect, shiny fraud who knew so many people yet could count true friends on one finger.
And put her brother in that small, dark pocket, too.
The room is silent except for the soft humming of the computer. A chill seeps into my bones, threatening to make me turn away and pretend this isn’t happening, but I keep reading until my eyes come to an abrupt halt on a scanned letter, half-burned and crinkled despite Maverick’s obvious attempts to smooth it out so it could be legible when he uploaded it. The text is marred by scorched edges, as if Maverick had originally intended to burn it to ash so it could never be read, then for reasons taken with him to the grave, he decided against it and tried to save it.
Maverick’s handwriting seems frantic, letters scrawled with haste. A smear of dried blood stains the corner.
I lean forward as I decipher the opening lines:
“To whomever finds this—To Elara, the only person who should be reading this, I was so young when you were born, barely out of the toddler stage myself, but the minute Dad guided me into the hospital suite, his hand firm on my shoulder, I knew I was meant to be your protector. You were so … squishy and angry-looking in your cot, your face redder than the soft pink blanket containing your tiny, wriggling form. I was terrified, but Dad just chuckled, patting my head and telling me you’d grow less red and scary as time passed.
I didn’t believe him then, but he was right. You grew into a fierce and feisty little thing with a glint in your eyes that lit up the entire room. You became someone I could rely on, someone who understood me in a way no one else ever could, not even our mother.
But I have failed you, Ellie. I have failed to protect you, to keep you away from our awful inheritance.