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We hug, and then she draws back, looking me up and down. “Have you showered? Changed your clothes?”
“Ah…”
“There should’ve been clothes in your room.”
She grabs my hand and drags me to my room. I hadn’t even checked, but there are clothes in the dresser, and she then takes me down the hall to a massive bathroom that has a shower.
“Shut the door, and no one will come in. It’ll lock,” she explains. “Some of us have bathrooms attached to our rooms, but not all of us.”
I nod. Low woman on the pole. Got it.
I shower and change my clothes, but I don’t feel like a new person. A shadow has come over me since that fateful night when I learned the truth about my husband and then killed him.
Back in my room, the glow of the laptop screen casts an eerie light in the dimness as I delve into the digital realm, searching for traces of the life I left behind. The revelations unfold like shadows dancing in the darkness, each discovery deepening the mystery that surrounds Derrick and me.
My heart quickens as I scour news articles, police reports, and online forums, only to find a void—a deliberate absence of any mention of Derrick and me. It's as if our existence has been erased from the public consciousness, swallowed by the shadows of a meticulously executed cover-up. The realization sends a chill down my spine.
The property records reveal an unsettling detail—our house, the once-witness to a tumultuous marriage, now belongs to a certain Ned Rickerson. Suspicion lingers in the shadows of my mind. Could this be a mere coincidence, or does the hand of the Scarlet Vipers reach even into the mundane transactions of real estate?
The enigma deepens as I ponder whether Derrick might have hidden something of significance within the walls of our former home. The shadows of doubt cast a veil over his actions, and the possibility that our past holds secrets I have yet to uncover looms like a specter in the room.
My thoughts turn to the yard, once a backdrop to my life, now a potential repository of hidden truths. Did Derrick leave a cryptic message, a concealed item, or a clue amidst the familiar contours of our property? The shadows that cling to the corners of my memory hint at the possibility of untold secrets waiting to be unraveled.
The laptop screen becomes a portal into the unknown, and as I navigate the virtual landscape, the dance of shadows intertwines with the mysteries of my past. The absence of information in the public sphere becomes a cipher, inviting me to decipher the secrets concealed within the shadows of my vanished life.
Weeks go by. Maybe a month or two. I don’t even know. I feel trapped here, and I turn to Izzy, Cara, Sophia… and Vinnie, Dante, and Rafe. I do whatever Leo asks of me, and each night that he requires me to do something accounting-related for him, I visit him. Sometimes, we fuck. Other times, I just blow him. A few times, he just holds me. One of those times, I fell asleep in his arms. He was gone when I woke.
Soon enough, though, the illusion of safety, carefully woven within the confines of the Obsidian Shadows, begins to unravel as whispers of betrayal and impending danger slither through the clandestine corridors of the mafia ranks. The shadows that once offered protection now seem to constrict, harboring the imminent threat of enemies closing in.
Within the Obsidian Shadows, the echoes of a betrayal resonate like a discordant melody. Whispers circulate, carrying the weight of treachery, and the once-cohesive unit finds itself fractured by suspicions and mistrust. The shadows, loyal witnesses to clandestine affairs, seem to recoil as the fragile alliances that once defined our world begin to crumble.
As I navigate the treacherous landscape, the shadows take on a more menacing quality, casting doubt on the very foundation of trust within the mafia ranks. The repercussions of the betrayal manifest like ripples, distorting the once-stable surface of our clandestine existence.
The safety I sought within the Obsidian Shadows becomes elusive, replaced by the palpable threat of enemies closing in. The shadows that once concealed our movements now seem to betray us, allowing adversaries to slip through the gaps and encroach upon the sanctuary we believed to be impenetrable.
fifteen
The air becomes charged with an undercurrent of malevolence, and the shadows themselves seem to harbor a sinister presence. The enemies, once relegated to the periphery, now emerge from the obscurity of the underworld, their intentions shrouded in the darkness that envelopes us.
I’ve just about convinced myself that I’m going insane, but the air in the dimly lit meeting room hangs heavy with tension as the members of the Obsidian Shadows gather, their faces masked by the shadows that dance along the walls. Leo, the leader, sits at the head of the table, his eyes scanning the room, assessing the loyalty of each member.
As discussions continue within the Obsidian Shadows, I never say anything. Leo speaks the most, and the others sometimes offer opinions. Leo relies on Sofia and Cara heavily. Cara, our double agent, has been spending more and more time behind enemy lines lately.
Without warning, Leo’s gaze narrows as he stares down each of us. These past few weeks, I’ve met a great deal more of the Obsidian Shadows, and I’m not worthy of having a place at the table, standing instead against the wall with some of the others.
His gaze locks onto Sofia’s. After a long moment, he growls, "Something's not right. Speak, Sofia. What are you hiding?"
"Leo, I assure you?—"
"Enough,” he interrupts, a cold glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine.
If looks could kill…
Cara’s right. He’s a villain.
“The shadows don't lie, Sofia. You've been playing a dangerous game."
The room falls silent as Sofia's composed exterior crumbles.
