Page 35 of Save Me
It stands unchanged on the outside, the windows like eyes that have seen too much, the door chipped at the edges, wearing its history without shame.
“Let’s go and see what’s going on,” Harry suggests, his tone all business now. He has gone on high alert, as have the rest of the guys. They’re not used to the seedy side of town andare looking for signs of trouble when mostly all there is now is silence. Had we rolled up in this fancy car a few hours ago, things would probably have been different.
We exit the SUV, our collective presence a small force against the silence of the street. I lead the way through the main door and up the stairs to the first floor, rooting around in my bag for the key, Each step is heavier than the last, bracing myself for what I might find inside.
The cold metal of the key pressing against my fingertips reminds me this is real, not just another stress dream where I wake up tangled in sheets and gasping. I fumble, clumsy, the key clinks against the lock before it slides in, a soft metallic sigh. My hands tremble, and I have to steady them with a determined breath.
I turn the key, hearing the tumblers fall into place, an old familiar sound that now seems out of tune. The door swings open to expected silence.
We step inside, straight into the living room. It doesn’t look right. The same walls, the same floor, but the furniture is different, and someone is sleeping on the sofa that doesn’t belong there.
“Who the hell are you?” I ask, my voice steady despite the storm raging in my chest.
The stranger—a man with close-cropped hair grunts and opens his eyes. I can see the empty bottle beside him and recoil as he sits upright, rubbing his hand over his head.
“Who the fuck are you?” he growls, coming to remarkably quickly for someone who was recently passed out. I guess he’s used to the need to be alert on demand.
Cal steps forward, flanking me, while Thayer and Quen hang back, their eyes scanning the room, every muscle poised for action. Harry moves subtly, positioning himself where he can see every angle, every possible threat. It’s clear they’re ready todefend, to fight, if need be, but I don’t want things to escalate—not yet.
“This is my mum’s flat. Where the fuck is she?” I spit out, fear taking over logic.
“This is my fucking flat, bitch, and you just broke the fuck in!” He rises, grabbing the empty bottle to wield as a weapon.
Thayer is there instantly, his hand clamped over the guy’s wrist. “Don’t,” he says quietly.
The guy takes notice, knowing he is vastly outnumbered, and even booze isn’t going to make him that reckless.
“Where is my mum?” I press, needing answers, the urgency is a burning fire in my veins.
“Fuck knows. I rented this flat on the up.”
“From who?” I swallow, but my mouth is dry.
“Some woman. Meg something.” He shrugs. “Get out of my place before I call the police.”
My blood runs cold. What is he saying?
Cal’s hand squeezes my elbow, a silent reassurance. Thayer’s jaw sets, his gaze never leaving the stranger as if he’s ready to pounce at the slightest provocation when he lets the guy go.
“Fine,” I bite out, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “We’re going.” My mum is clearly not here. She has left without a word and sub-let her flat to this stranger.
“Vogue,” Cal whispers, guiding me with a firm grip that tells me it’s time to bolt. Thayer, Harry, and Quen follow us out, and Quen closes the door behind him.
“Keep walking,” Thayer mutters, low and steady, as we make for the stairs.
I move, legs shaky but spurred on by the urgency in his tone.
The chill of the early morning bites at my skin as we stumble out onto the street. I throw a glance back at the building that houses my mother’s flat, the place where I grew up. The windowsare dark, lifeless. The stranger’s words still ring in my ears and my gut twists with foreboding.
“Where is she? Why did she leave?” These questions claw at me, each one hooking into my flesh and refusing to let go.
Harry steps closer, his eyes searching mine. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” His assurance does little to slow the spiralling dread.
“Why did she leave without a word? Is she in trouble? Danger, even? Dad! Take me to him. He has to know or be able to help.”
Quen nods once. “Okay. Let’s go.”
We climb back into the SUV, and the engine roars to life under Thayer’s hands. We peel away from the curb, this time with much more urgency than when we rolled up only a few minutes ago, leaving behind the place that no longer holds the warmth of family, just the cold echo of abandonment.
