Page 5 of Keeping Kasey
I count each step I take, forcing myself to pull air into my lungs.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
“Where is he?” my father hisses.
“Gone,” I tell him, and step up to the empty slot. “I’ll do it.”
“You’re not my heir,” he grates, low enough that only I hear it.
I match his volume. “I am now.”
His brow furrows, his eyes narrowing. I wait for him to tell me to drag Damon out here by his throat and stop wastingeveryone’s time. He doesn’t. After a few seconds, his face returns to its usual glare, and he nods once.
I have no idea what’s going through his head, and I’m sure that I never will, but what I do know is that I won’t let him down.
On my father’s count, we lift, and the sudden weight on my shoulders is more than just my mother’s casket.
It’s the weight of responsibility.
Of duty.
Of theworld.
When we reach the hearse and I finally release my hold, none of the weight eases.
And it never will.
CHAPTER TWO
Kasey
Present Day
The pleasant chirp of a notification has me abandoning my lunch of buttered noodles in the microwave. I haven’t heard that particular notification in months, but it’s my favorite sound.
It means I have a visitor.
I practically hop into the swivel chair and glide to my desk—my happy place.
I have a total of five monitors—three in constant use and two spares for when I’m working on a particularly complex project. Right now, they’re all lit up with the warning that someone is hacking into my computer.
I watch as my visitor’s cursor flits from one file to the next, only to find that each one is encrypted. If they want to get in, they have a lot of work to do, and I hope they succeed. They won’t find whatever information they’re looking for—just loads of nonsensical documents I fabricated years ago just for this purpose. It usually takes them hours before they realize it was all for nothing.
I pull my knees to my chest and watch them poke around. They run a decryption program, but find no success. After failing to access two files this way, my visitor goes for a third, just as Kane trots over and rests his head on my thigh.
My German Shepherd is my one and only companion.
By choice, of course.
People are complicated, with high expectations and fragile feelings I have no interest in catering to. Dogs, on the other hand, are loyal and trainable.
“Do you want to go outside?”
Kane’s ears perk up, and I pet his head. “I thought so. Come on, buddy.”
