Page 26 of Buried in Blood
Because the part that scares me the most?
I didn’t cry.
Not when I chose her.
Not when she screamed.
Not even now.
I’m afraid I’m becoming like…him.
* * *
Sunday, 11:48 P.M.
He doesn’t slam the door when he walks in this time.
That’s how I know it’s bad.
Damien only enters quietly when he wants to make me bleed slowly.
I’m standing in the middle of the living room, arms folded over my stomach like they might hold something together. But there’s nothing left in me to hold. Just this sinking, sick weight that gets heavier every second Brooke stays gone.
When we got home from Dante’s, he told me nothing. Other than—I better find Brooke… Or else… I don’t want to find out what the “or else” is.
He doesn’t look angry.
That’s worse.
He looks calm. Composed. Clean.
His boots echo softly on the hardwood as he walks toward me. I don’t speak. I’ve learned better than that.
“Where is she?” he asks, voice silk-wrapped steel.
“I—I don’t know.”
“She’s gone, Harmony.”
Two words.
Like a verdict.
He steps closer, and I flinch before I can stop myself. He smiles at that.
“You had one job. One. Project girl, remember? Clean her up. Make her pretty. Make her valuable. And now?” He exhales through his nose, gaze narrowing. “She’s out there fucking up my inventory.”
“I can find her,” I whisper.
“You better.”
His eyes don’t hold rage. They hold certainty.
“You have twenty-four hours.”
I blink. “What?”
He steps so close I can feel his breath against my cheek.
