Page 18 of Traithorn

I turn to Casper. If nothing is there, that means they haven’t found the blood or the hand in my fireplace. That means I’m safe, for now.

Untiltheydecide to play these twisted games with me again.

What I don’t understand ishowthe police couldn’t find anything.

Minutes seem to pass in which Casper stares angrily at his men searching my apartment, violating my space, and causing chaos that will take hours to sort through.

“Do you even have permission to do this?” I growl at Casper.

He ignores me at first, sighing as if I’m an annoying little child he can’t wait to get rid of. Then he enters my hallway with his shoes on, leaving muddy footsteps on the wooden floor, before he shows me a piece of paper with their warrant order.

I roll my eyes, still feeling angry.

“We have secured the apartment. Nothing,” another officer states, his badge letting me know he’s in a higher order than Casper. So this is the chief of police, Casper’s boss. “I suggest you have concrete proof the next time you make any accusation. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, miss,” he nods.

It’s not long before they all have left the apartment. I stare at Casper with an open mouth. “You fucking accused me?”

“It’s not like that, baby. We received a witness. I needed to be sure you didn’t have anything to do with this,” he steps closer to me as if about to embrace me. I take a step back. “Please, baby.”

I glance at him, then at my apartment. “You’re going to help me clean this shit up,” I mutter.

“I will. I’m sorry. At least now I know you didn’t have anything to do with this. Now, we can focus on getting the culprit behind bars.”

“Should’ve just trusted me from the beginning,” I mutter, entering my bedroom only to notice that the fire in the stone hearth has been put down.

No evidence of there ever having been a dissected body part there. The note is gone from my bedside table as well. Confusion hits me like a bomb, making the room spin in a vortex of endless questions. I couldn’t have imagined it, could I?

No.I know it was there. Which begs the question, who cleaned up?

A feeling settles in my stomach, sour and raw, like acid traveling up my throat.

Casper looks at me, seeing the exhausted expression on my face. I grip hold of the doorframe, staring back at him with resignation. All I want to do is lash out at him, but it won’t lead to anything. And I’m too fucking exhausted. These past few days have left me fucking drained.

“Just…forget it. I don’t have the energy for this,” I mutter,grabbing a box lying on the floor and looking around at the mess, overwhelmed.

This whole place is a goddamn mess.I’ma mess, staring at the stone hearth and knowing what was there.

Casper lifts a hand, as if about to stroke my cheek, before stopping himself. I’m glad for it. I don’t think I could have handled his touch right now. Not with the twisted knot in my stomach lodging itself there.

“I’m really sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have—” he starts, but I shake my head, bending down to retrieve a few books from the floor to put in the box.

“Just stop. I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter.

He nods. Licks his lips. “Okay. Let me at least help? I can cook dinner and stay the night?”

Even if I don’t want him to, even when all I want to be is alone, I still feel that sense of protection around him. Even when he bruised my throat.

God, this is so fucking messed up.

But I nod, agreeing.

Because having him here means a small semblance of protection against the bigger threats that loom ahead. And what they will do to me, if my suspicions are correct, will be far fucking worse than anything Casper has ever done to me.

Chapter 8

SCARLET HUNGER

The Dagger

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