Chapter 31
ERYX
The second I open my eyes, I know she’s not next to me. The bed feels colder. Empty in that way that has nothing to do with body heat.
I sit up, scanning the room. Her duffle’s still here. Her towel is folded over the chair, damp. But she’s gone. Then I hear it, the almost-silent sound of her breathing through the bathroom door. Too fast. Too uneven. Something’s wrong.
I throw the blanket off and walk to the door, giving it a soft knock. “Nastasya?”
Silence.
Then, a tight voice from the other side. “I’m fine.”
She’s lying. She never says she’s fine unless she’s the opposite of it. I lean my forehead against the wood. “Open the door.”
“I said I’m okay.”
“I didn’t ask if you were okay. I asked you to open the door.”
Another pause. A shaky inhale. The lock clicks. She cracks the door just enough to peek through. Her eyes are red. Her hand—clutching her phone—is shaking.
My stomach drops.
I push the door open the rest of the way and step in. “What happened?” She tries to turn away, but I catch her arm gently. “Anastasia.”
“I—I just need a minute,” she whispers. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You think I’m going to let you stand in here and fall apart alone?” I step closer, watching her every flinch. “Tell me what happened.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
She looks up at me with those glassy, panic-filled eyes. “Because… I won’t put you or anyone in danger.”
I go completely still. “Tell me,” My voice ice cold. She presses the phone into my hand. I glance down. There’s a few messages. No name. Just venom.
You're getting too comfortable, Stray girl…
He can’t protect you forever.
You’re marked. You always have been.
They even took pictures of her. Of us. Invading a private moment we shared.
Rage doesn’t even begin to cover what rises in me.
A dark heat coils in my chest, and I feel it spread—slow and consuming.
My vision edges in red. My hand tightens around the phone.
“How long has this been going on?” I lift my gaze to her, stepping into her space.
How long has she been dealing with these threats, and been holding it in?
My stubborn, stubborn girl never asking for help.
She looks down, still shaken. “A few weeks maybe? First message came that night at the club.”
“Is that why you were on edge that night? Why didn’t you say anything to me?” I press. I should have pressed her sooner.
“Among other things, I wasn’t trying to deal with it. Outta sight, outta mind ya know? And plus, I barely knew you then. I wasn’t about to burden you with my problems.”
“Do you think I scare easy?” I whisper. “I’d go to war for you. Your problems aren’t yours to bare alone. When will you see, that you’re not alone anymore?” I take her face in my hands. “You don’t ever keep this kind of shit from me. Do you understand?”
She swallows processing my words.
“They think they can threaten you while you're in my bed? Watch you while I’m holding you in my arms?” My jaw clenches. “They fucked up.”
“I have no idea who it is but they know things about me that no one else knows. What if they go after you, after Ro or Shina. After Caine or Roman? I won’t be responsible for any of you getting hurt on my behalf.
” Tears well in her eyes. She’s already been through so much and I see the war that wages in her mind.
I kiss her forehead. “They won’t get the chance.”
I pull her into my chest, cradling the back of her head. She melts into me, and I feel the tremble in her shoulders.
“They want a war?” I whisper. “They just declared it. I’ll show them what real monsters look like. Nothing will happen to you, to us. I won’t let it.”
If she didn’t bring this up to me with fear of retaliation, then Shina probably doesn’t know either. I need to get Caine looped in on this. If anyone can trace this number or get information, its him.
After leaving Anastasia for the day I reached out to Caine so we can try and figure out who might be behind those messages.
I forwarded them to myself so we could go over them.
Of course he said he’d help, only condition was that I needed to come with him to the farmers market.
I like giving him a hard time, but it is really nice to join him and partake in his hobbies with him.
He comes every Sunday. I need to make it a point to start coming with him more often.
“So what’s on the menu tonight?” I ask him. All three of us have a love of cooking, so it’s fun to bounce ideas off of each other. Since we always do family dinner and switch off on who cooks, tonight is his turn.
“Peach-mango stuffed peppers.” He says with a big grin on his face.
We’re perusing through the different vendors. Checking all the produce and fruit. “The mango has to be ripe, gently squeeze it,” he says. “It should give slightly to pressure, similar to a ripe avocado or peach.”
I rummage through a few mangos and pick out about five of them. Then I grab a pound of yellow peaches.
We’re at the pepper stand now, and he’s trying to decide between the red, and orange ones, but ultimately he goes with red. He says those are the sweetest and have the most nutritional value.
“So,” he drawls out, “she’s been getting messages? Any idea who it could be?”
“None.”
He nods in acknowledgment. “You sent yourself the messages, saved the number?” He asks.
“Yeah, got all of it, think you can backtrace it?”
“I can try, yeah.”