The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(88)

I exhaled and slowed down, but didn’t stop. We approached the corner of the trailer’s container slowly, but as it grew nearer, I realized that one door was open, the corner of it partially buried under a large mound of grass and dirt, indicating it had skidded slightly when it tipped over.

I moved around it, almost as terrified of hearing Solomon’s guttural roar as I was of finding his lifeless, broken body inside—but not quite. Owen stepped in front of me as we came around the corner, keeping himself between me and the potential danger.

The trailer was empty. I stared at it, unsure of my own eyes. “I’m not sure if this makes me feel better or worse.”

“It’s okay for it to be both,” Owen replied.

I opened my mouth, uncertain about how we could continue, when a soft keening noise drifted into my ears. It was barely audible, and I couldn’t be quite certain that I’d even heard it over the roar of the fire from the harvester.

“Did you hear that?” asked Owen, his head snapping to the left, looking just past the corner of the smoking harvester and toward several barricades grouped around the edge of the building.

“I was just about to ask you,” I replied, flexing my grip around my pistol. “Let’s check it out.”

I let him go first, trying to be considerate of his new role as my bodyguard. It felt weird to even think of him that way. After all, I had been the one to save all three of us at Ashabee’s, and with a broken arm and a broken skull to boot. But I had resolved to make this work, for Owen’s sake, and that meant compromises like this one. Sometimes.

Owen hunched over as he moved toward the sound, which was louder now—a choked, whining sound that made my heart want to cry out in sadness. He went wide as we came closer to the nearest barricade, creating distance between himself and the other side as he circled around it. I slowed my pace but didn’t change trajectory.

The keening continued, and I slowly stepped around the broken edge of the barricade—and froze as I saw Solomon sitting a few feet away. He was rocking back and forth, his knees clutched to his chest, the soft sound that had caught our attention coming from his mouth.

Owen clicked on his flashlight, shining it on the ground next to Solomon, and my heart seemed to stop when I saw golden curls stained with blood. Solomon flinched, his cries cutting off as he held up his hand to shield his eyes from the flashlight. Owen shifted the beam of light a few feet away, obscuring the damaged remains of Tasha’s face, much to my relief.

Solomon sniffed, gave another cry, and began rocking again.

“Did they know each other?” I whispered softly to Owen, and he nodded.

“They were friends,” he said softly. “I don’t know if there was something more there.”

I watched Solomon crying, my heart aching for his pain. I had no idea if he’d killed her or not, but the fact remained that he was crying. This was behavior he hadn’t exhibited before. Was he changing? Was that medication finally working its way out of his system? Or had the death of somebody he’d loved awoken those feelings in him as nothing else could?

“I’m going to try to talk to him,” I whispered.

“Violet, that’s not a good idea…”

Owen exhaled sharply, but didn’t try to stop me. I moved slowly, making sure to avoid Tasha’s body. Solomon stopped his rocking as I began to approach, watching me with dark, glittering eyes. The wetness on his cheeks glistened red from the fire burning behind him, and it made him look like he was crying drops of blood, giving him a sinister appearance.

I shook off the impression, remembering the man I had known. When I had first met Solomon, I had been intimidated by his brooding nature and massively built physique, but it hadn’t taken long for me to realize there was more to him than that. This was a bit like that… but this time, the danger was real. I channeled that apprehension as I took another step, emboldened by his lack of protest or aggression.

“Hey, Solomon,” I greeted him gently, moving even closer. He growled, a sharp, angry sound, and I froze. He stopped, and I got the message, sinking down to my knees and sitting. “I’m sorry about Tasha.”

I meant it with every fiber of my being. Solomon stared at me, and then his eyes drifted down to where Tasha’s body sat in the shadow, his eyes moving like he could see every horrific detail of it. He pressed his fists into his eyes, a high-pitched sound escaping him, almost like steam from a tea kettle.

I watched the pain move its way through his body, my heart bleeding for him. “Are you injured?”

Solomon lifted his head, his eyes a mixture of rage and despair. He struggled, squeezing his eyes shut and rocking his head back and forth, twitching madly. After a moment, he nodded, his eyes opening to watch me closely.

“Will you let me look at it?”

He hesitated. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tight. He took a shuddering breath in, and then exhaled, shaking his head no. I sighed, but didn’t argue. I could tell he was expending a lot of energy just trying to respond to my questions, and it was frustrating him. If I pushed him too hard, he could snap again.

“Solomon… we’re going into the city. To chase Desmond.” His head snapped up, and his lips lifted in a silent snarl. “We can make room for you in the car. You should come with us.”

Solomon leaned back, away from me. His eyes flicked from me, to Owen, to the car sitting on the road, waiting for our signal. He shook his head.