Chapter 6 #2
Her phone sits forgotten on her nightstand. Most people can’t be without their phones, but not her. She’s always forgetting it or misplacing it. Having grown up without one, it’s not a normal thing for her to keep track of. She’s better at keeping weapons.
I snatch it up, remembering her telling us she wasn’t bringing it when she found a dress.
Rick had insisted that she needed to have a way for us to contact her.
She’d brushed him off, saying Jake had a phone if needed, arguing that her dress didn’t even have pockets to hold it.
She didn’t hesitate to strap knives under her dress, though.
Zander had about passed out when he found her arming herself before Hazel arrived to do her hair and makeup.
As if he needed another reason to think she hung the moon.
The look on her face when Rick suggested she trade a knife for her phone was priceless.
He might as well have suggested she skin a cat.
The screen lights up in my hand, showing a multitude of unread messages. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself as I swipe up the screen and click on the app.
Everyone knew she didn’t have her phone, but it doesn’t seem like that stopped them from reaching out to her, anyway. Scrolling down her log, I find messages from each of them.
I slide my gun into the back of my jeans before clicking on the most recent message, which happens to be from Zander.
It pops open with a picture. Some poor asshole tied to a chair, looking closer to dead than alive.
Zander stands in front of him, holding up his fingers in a peace sign, smiling as he snaps the selfie, his victim’s blood splattered on his face and hand.
Wish you were here, Doll.
It might be strange, but I know Zander well enough to know he’s losing it. If his torture bender wasn’t proof enough, this message clears it up.
There will be no normal until we find her, for better or worse.
Unable to bring myself to scroll back up through more of his conversation, I close his messages and scroll down to find Rick’s.
I should stop.
I know these messages weren’t meant for me.
But I can’t.
Firefly or not, you're not getting away. Don’t worry, I’ll find you.
I back out again, scrolling, seeing the preview of Jake’s message that reads like an apology. Trent’s seems like an adorable message that would probably give me a cavity just to read, and Hazel’s is begging her to call her.
My thumb hovers over the last message from Kratos. Everyone else has sent multiple messages, but his shows only one. I click on it before I can think too much about it and what an invasion of his privacy this is.
Come home, Killer. I need you xo.
It’s not at all what I expected from him, so used to the Kratos who runs Vengeance with an iron fist and a deadly gaze.
Two months ago, I would have laughed and assumed his phone had been hacked if someone had shown me this.
But that was before I saw him with Jade.
With Jade, he’s an entirely different person, the person I imagine he would have been if the world had not done its best to tear him down.
“Damn it, Demon, where are you?”
I toss the phone back on the nightstand, feeling a mix of emotions I don’t want to feel. Annoyance at the dead ends, sadness for my brothers, anger at whoever took her, and guilt that we failed her.
But above all, the ache in my chest tells me I miss her, too.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wanted her gone because she was dangerous, but I didn’t want her in danger.
They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.
I guess that’s true. I hadn’t realized just how deep she had crawled beneath our skin until she was ripped away, and we were all left bleeding.
A scream of frustration rips out of me before I can think to stop it.
If anyone’s here, I’d just told them exactly where to find me, but I can’t bring myself to care.
My frustration boils over into anger. Grabbing the lamp on her nightstand, I turn, hurling it across the room.
The plug comes free from the wall, once again plunging the room into darkness, but I don’t need to see.
I need to feel something other than this hollow feeling that’s been building for the last few days.
The lamp crashes against the opposite wall, and I hear the glass shatter.
I should feel bad, trashing her room like this, but instead, something settles inside of me.
The destruction on the outside matches how I feel.
Whirling back around, I clear her nightstand with a sweep of my arm.
Her phone and alarm clock fall to the ground, and I stand there, my chest heaving from the sudden rush of emotion.
This shouldn’t feel so good, so freeing, but it does.
Turning to the bed, I fist the blankets in my hands before tugging them free.
Her scent once again assaults me as I grunt and huff in annoyance.
It’s not enough.
My foot catches on her blankets and pillows that I just threw there, but I don’t slow down. I move around her room, destroying anything I can get my hands on as if this is my own personal rage room.
I’m unsure how long it takes me, but I’m sweating and panting by the time I’m done, standing in the center of her room.
Even without the light, I can feel the destruction all around me.
The only things I’ve left untouched are the gifts from the guys on her dresser and her bathroom.
If I weren’t so sleep-deprived, I would have probably hit that, too, but as it stands, I’ve already used too much energy on this.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I welcome the distraction. Fishing it out, I squint against the bright light for a second as my eyes adjust. When they do, I’m met with the wreckage that was once her room.
Shit. Jade’s going to chew me a new one when she comes home and finds her room like this. I smile at the thought. Damn her and this stupid room. I’d gladly take anything she had to dish out if she'd just come back.
Looks like the Demon got her claws into me after all. I sigh, turning back to my phone to find a message from Kratos.
The floor creaks, the sound breaking through the silence like a gunshot, startling me. The light from my phone cuts out partially as it falls into the heap of clothes at my feet.
Shit, I needed that. Thankfully, only part of the screen is hidden, and just enough light still fills the room to see the figure that steps out of the bathroom, even if I can’t make out much of them.
Damn it, I’d let my emotions get the best of me and didn’t check the rest of the room.
They move forward slowly, carefully, as if not to spook me, and I only have a moment to think. Do I go for my gun or my phone? They could be trying to trick me and make me think they aren’t a threat.
That’s what I would do.
But even knowing that, I can’t bring myself to reach for my gun. It’s as if I’m frozen, even while my mind races.
“Do you feel better now?”