Freeing Anvi

Chapter Eighteen

"Love and Thunder?" Jackson's appellation is evident in the exclamation he lets out. "This is the movie that you want to see?"

I blush. "What? It's a good movie. Romance and sci-fi with hints of fantasy." I sigh. "It's such a beautiful combination."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," Jackson backtracks. "I like Henry Spellbound's movies too. I just didn't expect you to be a sci-fi fanatic." He loops his arm around my shoulders as we walk into the movie theater. "Did you watch the prequel?"

"Bones and Lightning?" I ask. "Of course!" I smirk. "Hailey snuck me a copy of the movie and we watched it at night after Alpha Banastre fell asleep."

"Why, Anvi!" Jackson feigns shock. "I didn't know you were so sneaky!"

I shrug. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Jackson." I reach for his hand, brushing his fingertips. "That's why we're here."

He smiles. "It is," he agrees. "But even if we weren't able to get this day together, I'm content with the moments we steal from our other tasks." His smile turns upside down. "I only wonder if I'm ditching my job one too many times."

"You're doing the best you can. Your pack knows that." I squeeze his hand. "Oscar is upset - rightfully - but that doesn't mean that you aren't trying. Whoever this murderer is...he's good."

"He's probably done this type of job before." Jackson scowls. "A first-timer couldn't get a murder done right the first time and even if they could, getting into the pack without passing through the gate is nearly impossible."

"At least, we thought it was," I mumble, looking up as we reach the ticket booth.

Jackson sighs deeply and stuffs his hands into his jean pockets. "I'm sorry, Anvi," he says quietly. "This is supposed to be a date, and I keep talking about the pack problems." He hands some money to the teenage girl at the ticket counter and takes the tickets wordlessly.

"It's fine, I understand that you need to vent," I say. "But what's happening is happening. We can't spend every moment of our life focusing on the murder."

"But it's my job," Jackson stressed. We both walked up the theater seats and took a middle-row to sit in. He pushed his chair down and plopped on the cushions with a frown. "What kind of Alpha King am I if I can't solve this quickly, Anvi? I've been doing this job for years! I should have a better understanding of these murderers by now."

"You can't understand everybody," I say, trying to placate him. "People are different. The way you think isn't the way I do, and it may not be the way that this murderer is thinking."

"Hm, I guess so," Jackson admits, grumbling. The lights dim and the previews begin to roll on, playing like an old movie. "Anvi?"

"Yes?"

"Why did Adonis give you Sara's picture?" Jackson keeps his eyes on the screen. "Where did he get it from?"

"He said it was on the desk in my room," I reply, transfixed by the blend of watercolors that make shapes of Disney characters on the screen. "He sort-of mumbled his way through it, but I think he said that it was supposed to be given to me, or something like that."

Jackson hums again. "That was a picture from the attic," he muses. "When Sara died, I packed everything away. How it got on your desk..." he shakes his head. "Never mind. I'll worry about it later."

"Now you've got me curious," I say, lowering my voice as more people enter the theater. "If you didn't mean for me to see it, then who did?"

"If Adonis gave it to you, then it was most likely him," Jackson responds. A look in his eyes tells me that he's also transfixed on the previews. "I'll ask him when we get home why. I hadn't planned to tell you about Sara so early, although in hindsight I suppose I shouldn't have kept any secrets from you."