sitting room as it was before. I think about Owen and me watching movies and laughing at each other. I memorize all the little details so when I look back on my time here, I do it with fondness, not fear.
I pause in the doorway of my room, taking in the bed or, more importantly, the bedding that has been slashed to pieces, right through to the mattress in some places. The floor is littered with stuffing, torn fabric, and feathers. That takes a heck of a lot of rage, confirming that this isn’t just kids fucking with me. It’s very personal and the person in question is pissed-off to the max.
I just don’t know why. I’m a good person, mostly, and I can be sweet, sometimes. Even so, I can’t think of a single thing I could have said or done that could ever warrant something like this. How can someone hate me so much?
“Come on, Reign, pack what you need,” Tate murmurs from behind me, squeezing my shoulder in solidarity. A reminder that I’m not alone.
I square my shoulders and hold my head up high, refusing to let this asshole bring me down. “Let’s do this.”
I move to the closet, which surprisingly hasn’t been touched, and yank out the two large suitcases I keep on the top shelves. I start pulling clothes off hangers and shoving them in before moving over to my T-shirt drawer. I pack everything I think I might need before moving to the underwear drawer, but Tate’s words stop me.
“No, we’ll go shopping and buy new stuff on the way back to Dad’s place,” he says quietly, making my hand clench into a fist.
I don’t even want to know what the freak did with them.
“That’s fine. I’ll grab my stuff from the bathroom if you want to grab my gun box,” I tell him distractedly as I make my way slowly into the bathroom, expecting something, I don’t know what. But surprisingly, the bathroom is just the way I left it. Working quickly, I grab what I need and walk back into my room and toss my toiletries into the suitcase with my clothes.
I look around, letting the sadness take hold for a moment, knowing that whatever happens, I’ll never feel safe here again. It’s disappointing, but it’s not the end of the world. I’m safe, that’s all that matters right now.
“You ready?” Tate asks, watching me like he’s waiting for me to break down.
With one final look, I say a silent goodbye. I’ll get the place cleaned up and put it on the market. A fresh start when this guy is caught will be just what the doctor orders.
Assuming I survive.
“I’m ready.”
After a quick trip to Target for underwear and a whole lot of junk food to cheer me up, Tate follows me back to Dad’s, where we find him home early. That’s unusual in itself. Even more so is the fact that Travis and Owen are sitting around the table with him.
All of them look glum.
“I don’t know if I can handle much more, so just tell me what it is so I can eat my junk food and pretend this whole thing is just a messed-up dream,” I mumble.
Owen slides a brown envelope across the table toward me. “These are copies of photos that arrived at the station today,” he adds while Travis shakes his head.
“I don’t think you need to see them, but apparently, I’ve been outvoted,” Travis bitches before standing and walking over to the sink, leaning against it with his back to us.
“How bad?” Tate asks from behind me.
I tune them out while they talk, lifting the innocuous brown envelope with shaky hands, expecting to find more photos of myself. What I find is so much worse.
Inside are five photos and a note. I flick through each picture, not even trying to stem the flow of my tears. There is a photo of each of my brothers with crosses through their eyes and what looks like a bullet hole in the center of their foreheads.
With a shaky hand, I lift the note, recognizing the writing as the same from the earlier letter I received.
Reign is mine. If any of you keep her from me, I’ll kill you all.
The note is confusing, but the threat behind it isn’t.
I feel the room start to spin so I reach out and grab the counter and suck in a sharp breath, willing the nausea rushing up the back of my throat back