Page 121 of The Road Less Traveled By

He meets my eyes in the rearview, and his entire face changes. His eyes soften, but I can still see underneath the mask.

“What happened?”

He looks down before he answers. “Nico called. Someone gassed all my guys outside your house and broke in.”

Someone. No, not just someone. “You mean Ralph?”

“Yeah, angel, I do.” His voice deepens, and I can feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

“How are yourguys?”

He runs a hand down his face, clearly stressed, and I’d give anything to be able to take a fraction of that away. The guys who work for him are like family, and I know he feels responsible for them. “They’re all awake, just disoriented.”

“Are they okay? I’ll pay for anything they need, medical care, anything.”

“Bree, you don't have to.”

“Vince, I will,” I say as I grab his bicep. “It’s not your fault. They knew what they signed up for, right?”

The tension in his shoulders lessens, but I know the weight is still there. “I know, but—”

“No buts, Vince. They’re fine. They’re alive. Ralph could’ve killed them, but he didn't. Is Nico meeting us at home?”

“Yes. He’s pissed that he didn't catch someone being in the house until after my guys were hurt. He thinks Ralph looped the security footage to make it seem normal, and he’s angry he didn't catch it in time.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get the hell home,” I tell him, and he starts the car, Emerson barely in the passenger seat before Vince speeds off toward my house.

Vince speeds into mydriveway, parking the car in an instant alongside a few others.

“Nico’s here already,” Vince tells me as he opens my door, Emerson joining him.

I’m already on edge, but seeing Vince’s men being treated outside my house is unsettling me even more.

“Thanks,” I say as I get out. Before I can say anything more, Liv and Tristan rush towards me.

“Vince, Nico wants to talk to you,” Liv tells him before she turns to me. “You’re staying out here.”

“Why?” I ask, noting my sister's face full of concern. “Livvy, what’s going on? What did you see?”

“Nothing that you should see, Bree.” Tristan tells me as he and Vince trade a look.

Vince tilts his head at Tristan, and the two of them head inside, Tristan’s hand on Vince’s bicep as he whispers something to him. I can’t see his face, but the way his back just tensed up means that whatever Tristan told him wasn't good.

“Please tell me what's going on, Liv. I need to speak to Vince’s men and see how they are. I really don't have time—” A loud noise from inside my house causes me to jump, and before Liv can stop me, I rush inside.

What I see when I enter stops me in my tracks.

My house is covered with pictures.

Pictures of me.

Grocery shopping, getting into my car, at different events over the past few months, at my own event. The most frightening one of all is the one of me crying over Vince passed out on the concrete.

Oh my God.They’reeverywhere. Literally. Pictures are taped up and down the walls all around me—the kitchen, the staircase, Vince’s office, and I bet there are even some in my room.

“Bree…” I hear Liv’s comforting tone behind me, but all I can focus on is the state of my house.

“Where’s Vince?”

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