Page 6 of Pastel Kisses

They won’t walk away from this.

The car tears down the darkened road, the engine growling like the beast inside each of us barely held in check. The headlights carve through the night, illuminating the path ahead, but no amount of light can cut through the suffocating dread coiling in my chest. Every passing mile stretches tight around my ribs, a countdown to whatever waits for us at the end of this drive.

We’ve overreacted before, let our protectiveness get the better of us—but this time, every instinct screams that something is wrong. The silence from her phone, the unanswered calls, the gut-wrenching feeling that we should never have left her alone. We’ll take the blame, carry the guilt for smothering her if that’s what this turns out to be. But if we’re right?

If someone had the audacity to put their hands on what’s ours, to harm the woman we would raze the world for?

Then they just sealed their fate. And we’ll make damn sure they know exactly who they fucked with.

As soon as we pull into the driveway, my stomach bottoms out.

Her damn porch light is off,again.

But that’s not what makes my blood run cold.

The front door—wide open, gaping like a wound in the night—hits me like a punch to the gut.

Liam barely manages to throw the car into park before Jaxton is out the door, moving at a dead sprint toward the house. The rest of us follow, but my legs feel like lead, dread clawing up my throat like bile.

The moment we hit the porch, the world around me blurs.

White roses—torn apart, trampled, scattered across the threshold. They litter the ground like the remnants of a battle, petals torn free as if shredded in desperation. My stomach twists violently.

Liam curses behind me, his breathing ragged. Lennox doesn’t say a word, but I can feel his presence vibrating with barely restrained rage.

The entryway tells a story no one wants to read.

The couch is knocked slightly askew. A chair is tipped over. A vase shattered near the hallway.

A fight she clearly didn’t win.

"Fuck," Jaxton hisses, raking a hand through his hair. His entire body vibrates with fury as he takes it all in, his chest rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths. “She fought. She fucking fought.”

My fingers curl into fists, nails biting into my palms. Of course she did. She’s tough as hell. But it wasn’t enough.

A strangled sound leaves Lennox, his hands trembling at his sides. "Look." His voice is barely above a whisper as he gestures toward the roses.

Blood.

The stark red against the pure white.

A sick, ominous message.

“Don’t touch anything,” I order, my voice steadier than I feel. “Search the house.”

The second I say it, my eyes lock onto something half-hidden under the couch—her phone.

My breath catches in my throat as I cross the room in two long strides, snatching it up. The screen lights up at my touch, illuminating a wall of unanswered texts and missed calls from all of us. My grip tightens around the device, my jaw locking so hard it aches.

“She didn’t even have a chance to call for help.” I hold the phone up for the others to see, my throat closing up as the weight of it settles in my hands.

Jaxton’s face twists with something dark, something I don’t see from him often—helplessness. “She wouldn’t leave her phone behind unless she had no choice.” He voices the undeniable truth—her house is a disaster, a clear sign that something is wrong.

Liam is already moving toward the back door. “I’m calling the police while I check outside.” His voice is clipped, barely controlled as he disappears onto the patio.

“Does anyone have her dad’s number?” My voice is hoarse, but I force the words out. My hands shake, fingers flexing around the phone like I might crush it.

Jaxton swears under his breath. "No. But I know the code to her phone. Hand it here." He holds out his hand, and I don’t hesitate, passing it over. His eyes flicker as the screen unlocks instantly under his touch. He scrolls, searching, before his fingers freeze over a contact.

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