“Ayden, I don’t even know what to say.” The detective shows the slightest bit of compassion. “This must be so hard for you.”

“Say you’re going to find him.” I curl my fingers inward, balling my hands into fists, battling back the tears burning in my eyes. “Say you’ll find him before he tries to cleanse his soul with Sadie’s life, or whatever the hell he has planned for her. Then when you find him, you’ll make him pay for everything he’s done.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen,” he assures me.

“Did you know about this cleansing soul thing?” I ask, gripping the armrests. “Did you know he—that the Soulless Mileas wanted to sacrifice someone they loved because they believe it’ll cleanse their souls?”

His prolonged silence answers my question.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I shake my head, struggling to keep my cool. But I hate how much I’ve been lied to throughout this investigation, how much they’ve left me in the dark.

“Over the last couple of months, I’ve learned enough about these people that I’ve had a hunch for a while what they’re intentions have been,” the detective says, setting his pen down on his desk.

“Do you think that could be why my brother was murdered?” My voice comes out off pitch, wavering, jam packed with the sadness and anger I’m carrying inside me. “Do you think he was one of my dad’s sacrifices?”

“At first I wasn’t sure, but over the last couple of weeks we’ve stumbled onto some evidence that opens that possibility,” he explains. “But Ayden, that’s about all the details I can give you right now about your brother’s case.”

“And what about Sadie?” My tone is clipped. But I don’t give a shit. I’m so sick of him not telling me what’s going on. “Is she going to be next?”

He doesn’t answer, instead pushing to his feet. “I’m going to need some more information from you, but I’d like to get you started on looking through some photos.”

Lila turns to me, her skin pale. She seemed like she was going to faint when I told everyone my mother had us for these people and their sacrifice. I’ll admit, telling that part hurt worse than nail scratches, broken bones, and wounded souls.

“Ayden, I can’t believe . . . I don’t know what to . . .” She struggles for words. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t need to say sorry. This isn’t your fault.” My voice is strained. “What’s done is done and I just want to forget about it and move on. But after I help find my sister.”

She nods, covering her hand over mine. “You can move on from this. In fact, I promise you that you will.”

“I hope so.” God, I hope so. Hope my sister’s alive. Hope that through all the darkness, there will be a light at the end of the tunnel.

I’m fucking restless as I get situated in front of the computer to scroll through photos. Blood roars in my eardrums as I wrap my fingers around the mouse. Lila is just as anxious, pacing the floor behind me while Ethan tries to get her to relax.

“Honey, you need to calm down,” he says, wrapping an arm around her and steering her toward a chair.

“I’m trying.” She bites her nails, looking at me. “Do you need anything? Water? A snack.”

I’m not hungry but clearly she wants to help me. “Water sounds good.”

Nodding, she springs to her feet and hurries off toward the vending machines just outside the room.

Ethan slumps back in the chair, letting his head rest against the wall. “I love that woman to death, but she doesn’t handle stress very well,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry,” I say, knowing it’s my fault. “For putting you guys through this.”

“Stop apologizing, Ayden.” He raises his head to look at me. “We’re glad we get to be here for you. We just want you to be safe.”

Nodding, I focus back to the computer. One photo after another, I sort through so many they all start to blur together. I’m there for so long that I worry maybe I won’t find them.

But then my heart slams to a stop.

“That’s him.” I point at the photo on the screen of a man with the same eyes and hair color as mine.

“Are you sure?” the detective asks, leaning over my shoulder to look at the screen.

He looks younger in the picture, but I can still tell it’s him. “Yes, I’m positive.” My heart goes from a complete standstill to beating uncontrollably. “That’s the man who killed my mother. That’s my father.”