Page 33 of Under the Bed

I wasn’t wrong about her being here. Her phone is on the bed.

She must be here somewhere.

Before I go looking for her, I pick up the device.

Hmm. An insight into her life. Can’t pass that up.

A single swipe of my thumb on her unlocked phone grants me entrance into her world. A few notifications flash on the screen. Messages and missed phone calls. Someone left a voice message.

The first text is from her dad, listed by his name, Ronan Talbot.

I know he’s out, Shiloh. Don’t you dare embarrass me. There’ll be consequences.

Delete.

He’s done hurting her.

I’m here. I’ll be the one to hurt her. Pleasure her. Protect her.

Next in line is a phone call from an unknown number. The one right after that is her voicemail. I delete the missed call and listen to the recorded message.

“Hello, Miss Talbot. This is Dr. Reynolds. Your stepbrother’s psychiatrist. From Berkshire. I have a good reason to suspect that your stepbrother might be?—”

Delete.

In fact, why leave her any of these notifications?

The world has nothing to offer her.

Only me.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

Now that that’s out of the way…

Come out, come out wherever you are.

Inhaling the sweet air in the room, I catch a whiff of her scent.

Her closet. She’s there.

The door doesn’t make a sound as I slide it open.

Moonlight filters into the bedroom, spilling into the closet. And I see her.

Fucking adorable, thinking she could hide in there.

There’s no hiding from me.

My Shiloh is curled into a ball on the floor. Her full brown hair is the same length as it was when I was taken away. Her expression is as angelic, as innocent, as sad as it looked in the most recent photo I have of her.

Trailing my gaze over her body has my heart pumping. She’s soft, curvy. I want to wrap her bare legs around my neck. Bury my fingers into her generous hips. Run them along her waist. Under her sweater. Under her bra, if she’s wearing any.

The need to take my mask off and bite her soft flesh is insistent. It almost takes over.

But then I see what she’s hugging to her chest.

A mask. My mask. The mask I’d worn for years. The one she brought to the courtroom.

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