“I’m sorry.” She jumps, looking up at me. “It fell out of your bag and onto the floor.”
I shove it back inside and zip it. “Thanks for picking it up.”
“Is that for fun?” she asks, gesturing to it. “Your story?”
“No, it’s for creative writing.” I throw it over my shoulder and grab a spoon for my yogurt.
“Well, it’s very good.”
I stop what I’m doing and look up at her.
“Seriously.” She nods with a smile.
“Thanks,” I say and make my way back upstairs. I open my bedroom door and slam it shut, hoping that Law will get the hint since his music is still vibrating the walls. Dropping my bag at my feet, I kick off my shoes, shove my jeans down my legs, and fall onto my bed face-first with my yogurt and spoon still in my hand.
HENLEY
Wednesday, I pull up to Lisa’s house and pop my trunk. I needed to remind myself what freedom tasted like. So after school, Lacey and I went to the mall to do some retail therapy and have dinner. After that, we decided to go see a movie as well. It’s nice to have someone to just hang out with. Someone who I don’t feel is judging me or trying to stab me in the back.
I pick up my cell from the cup holder and see it’s a little after ten in the evening. I totally blew off my homework and couldn’t care less. I get out of my car to get my things.
Closing my trunk, I roll my eyes at the four black cars parked off to the side. I can’t escape them. They’re everywhere.
Making my way inside the house, I hear their laughter coming from the living room. Choosing to avoid them, I make my way up the stairs to my room.
Opening the door, I enter and drop all the bags at my feet at what I see. There, on my bed, lies Vanessa.
How did they get her?
I walk over to her. She’s on her stomach in the center of my bed, her wrists tied behind her back with a zip tie. Her ankles are tied with one as well. Her knees are bent, and an extra zip tie is threaded between the one around her wrists and ankles—hog-tying her together.
I pick her up and see multiple ripped pieces of duct tape covering her entire face. She can’t breathe or see. If she wasn’t a doll, she’d be dead. She’s also naked with a smaller piece of ripped tape holding a piece of paper to her chest.
I rip it off, and she falls back to the bed.
Little doll, little doll, beg me to breathe.
Little doll, little doll, beg me to see.
Little doll, little doll, beg me to set you free.
Anger rises like a hurricane brewing out in the ocean, ready to destroy the land it crashes into. But the only difference is I’m not going to give them a warning.
I crinkle up the note in my hand, pick up the doll, and stomp downstairs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
GRAYSON LAW
I’M SITTING ON the couch with the guys when I see Henley running into the living room. She’s got something fisted in her hand, and her eyes are on Dax, who sits across from me.
I raise my cup to take a drink just as she throws whatever is in her hand at the back of his head. “You piece of shit!” she screams.
The sudden outburst has me spitting out most of my drink back into my cup and running a hand down my face to knock it off my chin.
“What the fuck?” Monroe jumps to his feet and spins around, his hand going to the back of his head. “Did you just throw something at me?” he barks.
“Damn right, I did.” She jumps over the back of the couch and throws herself at him.
I drop my drink and run over to them, but Scout beats me to her. He grabs her and rips her off Monroe, picking her up off the floor. He carries her out of the room.
“Fuck!” Dax hisses.
“Go see what the fuck that was about.” Rellik nods to where Scout dragged her out of the room.
Making my way to the kitchen, I walk in and find her back shoved into a wall as Scout has his forearm pressed up against her throat. “What the fuck, Henley?” he snaps.
She’s trying to claw at his face, but the position he has her in limits her movements.
He lets go of her and steps back. She bends forward, her hair falling around her while she coughs and chokes out a breath.
She stands, flipping her hair back, and her murderous eyes look to my right. I see Monroe standing there along with Rellik. Monroe has a gun in his hand, resting against his thigh. Her eyes drop to it, and she lets out a manic laugh.