“No! Just so you know, Tristan is so adamant about killing you. If you so much as think about trying anything, he will shoot.”
“Okay.” He keeps his hands raised this time. “I’ll just wait here.”
I keep my eyes on Reid’s. He doesn’t falter. He just stares back at me with something like…care. How does he do it?
Footsteps echo through the courtyard, quick and purposeful. Tristan appears at the entrance, gun raised, his face a mask of deadly intent. “Step away from her,” he commands.
“Tristan, wait. He has something we need to see first before—” I start, but he’s already moving closer, Dixon and Riley in tow.
“Don’t tell me you fell for his lies again!” Tristan doesn’t take his hateful gaze off the detective. “You led her into a trap, you sick fuck. You’re not getting out of here alive.”
“No, Tristan!” I position myself between them, my gun still pointed at Reid but my body shielding him from Tristan’s. “He says he has evidence. A video.”
“Evidence he fabricated. Birdie, get out of the way.”
“Please, just…let him show us first.”
Reid’s voice is steady despite having four weapons pointed at him. “The phone. I need to reach for my phone.”
Tristan’s finger hovers over the trigger. “One wrong move—”
“I know.” Reid’s eyes pin on mine. “Birdie, I’m going to move very slowly.” He moves his hand inch by inch toward his jacket pocket. Every muscle in my body coils tight. He pulls out hisphone with deliberate care and holds it up so I can see it. “I’m going to open the video now. Don’t shoot me for moving my thumb.” He works the screen and then tosses the phone toward me. It skitters across the cracked concrete.
With trembling fingers, I bend and take the phone.
“Watch the whole thing, Birdie. Look at who has really been torturing you,” Reid says.
The timestamp reads from over a year ago—the night at the hotel. I tap play. The grainy security footage begins. A long, empty hotel corridor. Then a figure appears at the edge of the frame. Someone in all black. A hoodie. They’re walking toward my room. A black mask covers their face.
My breath catches in my throat as they pause outside my door, sliding something underneath. The note. Then they straighten their back with a flinch, as if they heard someone coming, afraid to get caught.
Quickly, they take off the mask and look behind them. They move down the hallway, checking the right and left passages. That’s when the camera catches their profile.
My gun wavers in my grip. The world tilts sideways as recognition crashes over me. “No.”
“Birdie?” Tristan’s voice sounds distant, muffled by the vertigo wave threatening to take me. “What is it? Who’s in the video?”
I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. I rewind the video to watch again, praying I’m wrong. But there’s no mistaking that walk, that build, that face.
Sobs tremor through me, and my knees give.
“Birdie!” Tristan and Reid shout at the same time, both hurrying toward me.
“Don’t move!” one of my other bodyguards bark.
“Leave the detective alone. He’s not Butterfly Man,” I whisper through the uncontrollable sobs.
Tristan’s hands help me up. “Birdie, talk to me.” He lowers his gun, concern replacing aggression in his voice. “Who is it?”
The name won’t come out. I can’t bring myself to believe it even though it makes perfect sense. I hand him the phone. He can see it for himself.
Tristan plays the video until the end. “Son of a bitch.”
Reid takes a cautious step forward. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
CHAPTER 42
Birdie