Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
My blood runs cold, and acting on instincts I thought I’d buried, I dial her number to make sure everything is okay.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh,” she says, whining. “Oh, Brynn. I need you to come home. I need you to—you know that chest you used to keep your writing stuff in when you went through that phase? Those notebooks and stuff. I looked for them, but they’re not in your bedroom closet anymore. It sounded more like something you would write, not your sister. But it was in her handwriting, and it described exactly what they did but with all this perverted stuff. They said she’s involved, but she would never be involved. She loved her father. She would never do this. And I’m telling you, they planted these letters, but no one believes me. They say it’s clearly her handwriting, they compared samples, and I don’t know what to do. They won’t even look for her and I… I don’t know where she is or if she’s even okay.”
I try to process everything she’s saying, but her words always tend to come out in a chaotic ramble.
I think I get the gist.
Intruders.
Robbery.
Some of my stuff is gone, because I never took my story chest out of my closet. It’s one of the things I had to leave behind because it wasn’t essential, and I could only fit the essentials in my car.
But my sister is missing.
We aren’t close, obviously. We haven’t spoken since I left home, but…
“I… I shouldn’t have called. I have to go.”
“Brynn!”
I ignore her attempt to keep me on the line and hang up my phone.
And then I block her number.
But I text a different one.
“Where are you?” I ask Killian.
He doesn’t text me back.
That probably means he’s asleep, but I still keep my phone open on my bed in case he answers.
I fall asleep waiting for him, and when my alarm wakes me up, I see he still hasn’t responded.
I frown, realizing I got so caught up yesterday, I didn’t notice…
He didn’t text me at all.
He hasn’t missed a single day since I left his apartment with Sloane.
Is he okay?
I’m up off the bed, feeling mildly panicked and trying to think who to call. Hex is the only other Blue Blood I have a phone number for and I’m not texting him; he’s frightening.
I text Addison instead and ask if she can give Ryan my number and have him call me. She says she will, so I turn the sound up on my phone before I hop in the shower to get ready for school.
It’s finals week, so I should really be studying instead of distracted worrying after Killian’s welfare, but… here we are.
I haven’t checked it in a few days, but I even look at Sloane’s social media to see if there’s a Killian sighting from yesterday. Unhelpfully, there is not.
My shoulders are tense and my stomach is in knots as I pack my bag with my Monday essentials. I bring my notes and books just in case I’ll have time to squeeze in a last cram session before class, but—
I pull open the door to leave, and Killian is standing on the other side.
My anxiety subsides in an instant.
I breathe a massive sigh of relief.
I might hug him if not for the floral chest and little pink ballerina jewelry box he’s carrying stacked one on top of the other.
It’s a child’s jewelry box and there’s absolutely nothing valuable in it.
The chest isn’t even made of wood, it’s reinforced cardboard that bows a bit in the center from age and has a slightly warped lid, but it’s the box that contains every bit of garbage I wrote when I was a little girl going through it and needing to find a way to hold on to my sanity.
I swallow, meeting his gaze.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I say back.
“I thought you might want these.”
I nod, too overcome with emotion to speak.
I take a few steps back, and Killian brings them inside. He glances around just to make sure, but we’re alone. Sally isn’t here.
Good thing, too. She’d probably tease me about inviting strange, hot men into the apartment when I told her not to.
I also have a hunch there shouldn’t be witnesses to whatever he did to get these boxes, and while she would never know that…
It’s second nature to want to cover his ass, I guess.
When I finally recover the ability to speak, I say, “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Swallowing a lump of emotion again, I ask, “My mom called me. I take it you…?”
He nods, but it’s a formality. We both know he did it.
I lick my lips uncertainly. “Um… she said Angelica is missing.”
“They’ll find her in a few days.”
“Alive? I didn’t want you to hurt her, just… just AJ.”
“She’ll live,” he assures me. “I have a friend watching her right now.”