Page 13 of Locke 2

I learned a lot about Locke.

I learned that I should stay away.

Even if I thought about him every single day, I couldn’t get close to him. Because, according to Charlotte, Locke was a raven of sorts. You saw him and death followed. Either in the form of a transformation, or a way out of this world.

Yet I still found myself dreaming of that bedroom. Of his body over mine. Pinning me beneath him, fucking me like he might die if he didn’t. His sweat coating my skin. His teeth running along my flesh.

If I thought about it hard enough, I could feel it.

I was right there. Riding him, fucking him, slapping him, crying out his name as he dominated me, as he chased me down and forced me to take every inch of him.

I came to that man more times than I could count. My hand buried between my legs, searching a high that never truly came.

I was empty, unsatisfied, and pining.

Always fucking pining.

I spent way too much time reading that damn newspaper. Tracing my finger along his name.

Max Locke.

Max Locke.

Max Locke.

What was he doing in that very moment? Did he think about me? Did I mean something to him? Charlotte’s words singed me.

“If you can’t accept the way he is, in all his brutality and cruelty, then you have to let him go,” she’d implored. “I don’t think he will ever stop wanting you. Men like Locke don’t simply move on. They wait.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For an opportunity to take back what they feel belongs to them.”

Seven

Kali

It was a cool autumn day when my world was flipped on its head. I was taking Dahlia out for her potty break. It was an early Saturday morning. I’d slept in a little bit. I was still in my jammies, my eyes pinned to Dahlia’s movements. I was trying to assess if she was slowing down due to the cold or because she was getting worse. Luckily, she had a spring in her step, and I relaxed.

I was kneeling, feeding her a treat when the backdoor burst open, and the screen door literally fell off its hinges. Hal didn’t even glimpse at it as he rushed down the steps and strode to me. I looked up at him, eyes squinting up at him as he stood with the sun at his back. In shorts and his sleep shirt, he was squeezing his phone hard in one hand, his hair in all directions.

“There are all these posts,” he said in a rush. “Linking the news station, begging everyone in Georgewel to keep an eye out for a little boy. I think…it says he goes to your school, Kari.”

My chest tightened. Alarmed, I asked, “What boy?”

Yet a sinking feeling settled into the pit of my belly. I had a feeling…and I hoped I was wrong.

He turned the phone to me, showing me the screen. “A boy named Lenny McClane. Do you recognize him?”

Even though I somehow expected it, the shock was swift. I fell on my ass as though I’d been shoved. My eyes widened as I took the phone from him and stared down at a picture of Lenny. He looked a lot younger than he was now. But the face was still the same: the dark eyes and lifeless expression. I scrolled up, reading the post put up by his desperate aunt, who was pleading with the public to keep an eye out for him as he disappeared with his mother, and she had been behaving erratically the last time they were seen.

“He’s in my class,” I whispered.

“Oh, my God, Kari.” He let out a long breath. “He was last seen yesterday afternoon. He played with his friends and then he went home, but when the aunt came around this morning, they were gone.”

Gone where?Dahlia crawled into my lap, burrowing her head into my stomach. I idly stroked her, my thoughts a mess. “I saw him yesterday.”

“Was he okay?”

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