Page 74 of His Coveted Obsession

I guess that was a no. Oh, well. I hung up and plugged my phone into the charger, turned off my lamp, and went to sleep witha huge smile on my face.

Somethinghadmejoltingawake, like an unfamiliar sound. You get used to your home and all the noises it makes, as well as the people who live in it. When something is off, you notice.

I sat there, yawning and rubbing my eyes, before turning to the old digital clock, which read it was just past midnight.

It had to be Dad coming home. He was probably drunk, which explained the strange noises.

Despite needing to be up in five hours, I climbed out of bed to head downstairs. I needed to know what state my dad was in. Maybe I could once again remind him of my perpetual disappointment.

I pulled on my pajama bottoms since I only wore underwear to bed, and padded out of my room. As soon as I reached the hallway, I heard a banging coming from Annie’s room.

“What the hell?” I mumbled.

I walked down the hall to her room and pressed my ear to her closed door. When I put my hand on the knob to turn it, someone pressed their hand over my mouth and something stung my neck. My eyes rolled, and my world went black.

ItwasWednesdaywhenI stepped into the coffee shop, and I knew instantly Thomas wasn’t at work, unable to sense his presence even before stepping foot up to the counter. That was three days now of not showing up, and it was pissing me off. I had called him several times, too, and Inevercalled. I always preferred to reach out with text. Calls required too much talking. But he hadn’t responded at all, and he was always responsive.

I gave him the benefit of the doubt because the last time he didn’t show up for work, he’d been sick. But three days were long enough. I was fucking over it.

We texted each other the other night after the museum, and everything had been fine. Then silence. I didn’t liketo be ignored.

But a little thought niggled that something happened to him. It was possible, but it didn’t seem likely, even with his loser father.

I left the coffee shop without my drink and pastry, got into my car parked in the garage at The District, and peeled out, driving way too fast toward Thomas’s house.

There was going to be hell to pay if he was avoiding me. We were blood-bound. He was mine for good. No one else would ever match him. But that niggling in the back of my mind grew stronger the closer I got, telling me something was very wrong.

When I pulled up to the house and parked the car across the street, that foreboding was off the charts. Even from here, the home felt… off. I couldn’t pinpoint why. It looked the same. Nothing had changed outwardly.

I got out and knocked on the front door.

“Go away!” his father yelled on the other side.

“Open the door, Mr. Lauder.”

“Go away!” His voice was shrill and panicky. There was definitely something wrong. I was now on high alert.

I tested the door, but it was locked, so I walked around to the back again, through the chain-link gate, and into the backyard, which was filled with dead grass and shrubs. The home and yard had probably been cared for up until Thomas’s mother’s death.

When I killed my parents, I never asked what happened to my old home. All Sid told me was that it had been taken care of, and I suddenly had a lot more money in my bank account, which he had set up for me. Presumably, he sold it, but I wasn’t sure how. I’d left behind carnage and a lot of blood.

I stopped in my tracks and looked down at the dead grass to find a used and empty syringe. I squatted and carefully picked itup. It wasn’t unusual to find drug paraphernalia in a neighborhood such as this, but in their backyard? Perhaps. Still, it felt all wrong. I dropped it where it lay.

I approached the back door and tried that, too, but it was locked.

Nothing was going to stop me from getting into that house.

I rammed my elbow through the window of the kitchen door, shattering it, and reached in to unlock it.

“Leave me alone!” Mr. Lauder yelled. “I-I have a gun!”

“No, you don’t.”

I found him sitting on the sofa, a beer can sitting on the coffee table. It was too early for drinking. His eyes were large and full of panic and fear. His hair was greasy, and he hadn’t shaved in a while, sporting a short and scraggly beard.

“I told you to l-leave me alone!”

“Where’s Thomas?”

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