Page 52 of Rampage

I shake my head. "No. He was paranoid about keeping everything in one secure place. Said it was his insurance policy."

"Let's go," Reid says, zipping the backpack closed. "We've been here long enough."

We retrace our steps through the office, down the hallway, into the kitchen. Every shadow seems to reach for me, every creak of the old house sending jolts of adrenaline through my system.

We're almost at the kitchen door when I stop abruptly, my hand catching Reid's arm. "Wait."

He turns, concern etching his features. "What is it?"

"My room," I whisper, a sudden, overwhelming need washing over me. "I need to see my room."

"Lily, no." Reid's voice is firm, his body already angling toward the exit. "We got what we came for. We need to go—now."

"Please." My fingers tighten on his sleeve. "I need this."

"It's not safe to stay any longer," he argues, checking his watch. "We've already been here seven minutes."

I meet his gaze steadily. "I ran away in the middle of the night. I never got to say goodbye to that place—to the girl I was. Please, Reid. I need closure."

Something in my expression must convince him because his jaw tightens, then relaxes. "Two minutes," he concedes. "Not a second more."

I lead him back through the kitchen, past the living room, to the staircase. Each step creaks exactly as I remember, a haunting melody from my past. My hand glides along the banister, muscle memory guiding me even in the dimming light.

The second-floor hallway stretches before us, four doors leading to different rooms. Without hesitation, I move to the last door on the left—my former prison and sanctuary.

The door swings open silently, revealing a room that's been transformed. My sparse furnishings are gone, replaced by a home office setup: a desk, computer, filing cabinets. No trace remains of the teenage girl who suffered here.

"They erased me," I whisper, stepping inside. "Like I never existed."

Reid stands in the doorway, his expression darkening as he surveys the space. "What are you looking for, Lily?"

I move to the window, the same window I'd climbed out of that final night, bruised and terrified but determined. My fingers trace the sill where I'd waited countless nights, planning my escape.

"Here," I murmur, crouching down. My fingers press against a specific floorboard near the wall. It gives slightly, and I pry it up to reveal a small cavity beneath.

Reid crosses the room in two quick strides, kneeling beside me. "What is it?"

I reach into the hiding place, my fingers closing around something small and hard. When I withdraw my hand, a tiny silver locket dangles from my fingers, its surface tarnished with age.

"My mother's," I explain, my voice thick with emotion. "The only thing I have of hers. I was afraid to take it that night, afraid I'd lose it during my escape."

Reid's expression softens as he watches me clasp the necklace in my palm. "You came back for it."

"I came back for her," I correct him. "For the girl who survived this room." I slip the locket into my pocket, then place my palm flat against the wall. "This is where I'd press my ear at night, listening for his footsteps."

Reid's jaw tightens, a muscle working beneath the skin. His eyes sweep the room, taking in every detail, as if memorizing the scene of a crime. In many ways, that's exactly what it is.

"I'm done," I tell him, rising to my feet with newfound steadiness. "We can go now."

Reid checks his watch then nods curtly. "Kitchen door, same way we came in."

We move silently back down the hallway, my hand finding his as we descend the stairs. Each step feels lighter somehow, as if I'm leaving behind more than just the physical space.

The kitchen is still empty, bathed in the blue-gray light of dusk. Reid taps his radio twice, signaling to the others that we're exiting. He eases the door open, checking the yard before guiding me outside.

The cool evening air hits my face, and I inhale deeply, filling my lungs. It tastes like freedom—like victory.

"Almost there," Reid murmurs, his hand now at the small of my back as we cross the yard.

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