Page 2 of Above All Else
Pressing my lips together, I rolled my shoulders under my leather jacket, took a deep breath of mountain air, and walked toward the black Lexus waiting inside the hangar.
Get in, get out.
That’s it.
A faint breeze ran through my short hair as I opened the back door and dropped my bag on the floor. I licked my drying lips as I closed one door and opened the driver’s, settling inside, my hand grappling with the keys. Sweat beaded across my brow, my stray light brown hair sticking to my forehead.
Exhaling, I gave myself a once over in the small rectangular reflective glass mounted in the visor, running my fingers through my now unruly hair. With a quick flip upward, the visor slapped the car’s ceiling with a muffled thump.
My heart thudded in my chest, a hint of nausea bubbling away in my stomach. I closed my eyes and took calming breaths, which did nothing to ease the sickness growing inside of me.
The road toward Avon wound through the mountainside, thirty-five miles from the closest runway, and nestled in the heart of the Rocky Mountains.
The population of Avon, a meager five thousand, spread out along the prominent skiing resorts, making the town no bigger than the iconic Buc-ee’s rest stop in Texas. But my finaldestination, Vale, Colorado, took the record for a thousand less.
And tomorrow night, there’d be fewer.
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, gripping the cool leather as autumn leaves blurred past in yellow, orange, and red streaks. The evergreens stood in sharp contrast against the vibrant fall colors.
Twenty minutes later, the soccer field I’d used to play at when I was younger appeared, and then the burger joint where I’d had my first kiss and date in high school. Her lips were so dry they’d stuck to my wet ones like adhesive on a corpse’s skin.
My jaw tightened as I pressed down on the brake, slowing down next to a familiar two-story, light beige house in the neighborhood where I’d last seen my sister. My skin heated, my forehead and palms slicked as I stared at my nightmare in the flesh, the home unchanged despite the passing of time. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Bile hit the back of my throat.
What am I doing here?
My nostrils flared as my vision squeezed into a tight tunnel, the light at the end a burning inferno of misery.
The skin encasing my knuckles stretched taut as though it might split, my knuckles popping under the strain as I made a fist in my lap.
Adrenaline spiked my veins, my pulse increasing with each breath.
This is the year, Amber.
It’ll all come crashing down in the mostdevastating way possible.
I opened my phone and scrolled through the two-year-long email thread between me and Mr. Anonymous, filled with photos, videos, and text messages between Amber and a demon wrapped in angel’s clothing.
Mr. Anonymous gift-wrapped the truth for me, but only after teasing me with bits and pieces for the last two years—setting a raging inferno under my ass.
I’d waited for this moment.
A moment when the police went into hiding, the elites came out to play, and the laws didn’t apply.
The perfect night to wait for vengeance.
I hit the gas and sped away from the neighborhood, leaving the house in the rearview mirror. When all was said and done, I’d burn it to the ground and never step foot in Avon again.
My teeth ached as I clenched my jaw. I took a sharp right, speeding up as I neared the elementary school at the end of the street and parked on the other side. I rolled down my window and glanced at the aging building with browning grass, my nerves shrieking with tension.
Kids ran around the metal playground, the ground covered in rubber woodchips. Their tiny hands pushing one another in a game of tag. A woman wearing a yellow floral dress monitored the little sprites’ play, the slight breeze pushing her shoulder-length hair behind her. Her laughter carried on the wind as a child pulled her onto the playground, the words lost from the distance.
The air pushed from my lungs, my chest collapsing—the rebellious member between my legs swelling.
She’s changed.
Grown...
No.