Echo (Black Lotus #2)(63)

“Fuck.”

Getting back behind the wheel, I decide to just call it a night. I know that beyond this gate, they are more than likely here. For now, I’m tired as shit, but at least I have my stakeout position. And knowing there’s a manhunt back in Illinois, my next steps need to be quick and deadly.





I CAN STILL feel the vibrations that ricocheted though my bones with each gunshot. The two that Pike fired into Declan’s chest, and the single blast from the gun I held that took my brother from me. The sound is something I’ll never forget. A bang so loud, it knocks your shoulders back, deafening and startling. And when the mark is hit, the ice your heartless heart pumps fills your veins, and you know you’ll never be the same again.

Forever changed.

Forever a monster.

Each bullet leaves a soot stain on your soul that you can’t get rid of, and you never forget the taste of burnt gunpowder on the back of your tongue. Each life you take brands you for eternity.

I hoped it wouldn’t. I hoped the aftereffects would wither away as the echoes did. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this life, it’s the realization that echoes live forever. I may no longer hear the screaming demons of my past, but they do indeed continue to scream. It’s a reminder that you’re never truly free.

I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing, but I don’t think this is the place for me. I’ve been lost in my head all morning. Declan left at sunrise for the airport. When he did, I needed to find comfort and realized I left my doll behind.

I called Isla to tell her I would be stopping by to collect the remainder of my belongings. Since he took the SUV, I take his Mercedes roadster to Isla’s.

As I pull up to the charming house that I’ve stayed at since my arrival several weeks ago, I know, that as much as it hurts, there’s nothing here for me in Scotland. I never knew what it was I was looking for when I came here. The last thing I thought I would find was Declan alive, but I did. And maybe that’s gift enough, to know he’ll go on and that his life wasn’t sacrificed because of my deceit.

The key is under the ceramic planter right where Isla said she would leave it. I walk in, and even though I’ve only been at Declan’s for a couple of days, it feels much longer. But then again, each day with him is filled with insurmountable emotions and conversations. It’s taken a toll on me, having to face my past and confess the truths I’ve hidden for so long. The hardest is having to see the pain Declan battles inside of himself—pain that was birthed because of me. I own it; he endures it.

I head upstairs, and after finding my doll, I begin to pack my things and focus on keeping the dread at bay. I wish I had direction, I wish I knew what I’m doing and where I’m going. It’s a heavy emotion to carry, to know how alone I really am. But I fight to keep myself numb to all the questions there are no answers for.

I move faster the more my thoughts wander. Flashbacks of what’s occurred in this room begin to gnaw, and when I walk over to the bed to grab my phone that I had left behind, I freeze. Below the window, parked in the street, is the same car I saw on Declan’s gate monitor last night. Or at least I think it is. So many of the cars here are the same, so I can’t be certain, but something in my gut sparks the paranoia.

The car is directly under my view, so all I see is the roof. Hopping off the bed, I rush downstairs, lock the front door, and make my way through the house to see if I can get a better view. Passing the windows, I find myself walking into a room I’ve never been in before—Isla’s room. Pushing the door open, the room is dark with the heavy drapes shut. Barely parting the curtains with my fingers, I peek out, but the car’s gone. The street out front is now vacant, aside from my car.

I open the drapes further to get a better look, and sure enough, the car is gone. Shaking my head, I release a pathetic sigh.

You’re losing your mind, Elizabeth.

I take in a calming breath, retiring my batty thoughts that have no basis. I turn my back to the window and close my eyes as I laugh at myself. When I open them back up, I take in Isla’s room. Scanning around, I walk over to her nightstand to look at the book resting on top. I’m running my fingers along the cover of Madame Bovary when I notice a collection of photos on the mantle above the fireplace. I move slowly along, looking at each picture.

“Oh my God.”

Picking up the tarnished silver frame, I hold it close as I look in disbelief. I wonder if this is the foolish paranoia that remains from the car outside or if this is exactly what my eyes believe it to be.

How did she get this? Why does she have a picture of him?

He’s younger than what I’ve ever seen him, a little boy, but the eyes are irrefutable. There’s no mistaking what I know so well.

It’s him.

But why?

The doorbell rings, startling me, and I drop the frame, cracking the glass as it lands on the wooden floor.

“Shit.”

Scrambling, I pick up the small frame and tuck it in the back of my pants as I run to see who’s at the front door.

Before I make it, there’s a loud knocking.

“Elizabeth? You in there?”

Lachlan?

Looking out the window, I see it’s him.

“What are you doing here?” I question when I open the door.

“Declan asked that I check in on you, and when no one answered my gate call at his home, I came here.”