Page 27 of Buried in Blood
“Twenty-four hours. Find her. Bring her back.”
His fingers trail down my arm—soft, like a lover. They don’t match his words.
“Because if you don’t… if I come home tomorrow and that little stray is still missing…”
He leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“I’ll sell you instead.”
The words slither into me like poison. My knees almost buckle.
He wouldn’t?But he would. You are property to him.
He steps back and adjusts his cuffs, as if he just told me we were out of fucking milk.
“You always wanted to be useful, right?” he says, smirking. “Now’s your chance.”
He turns and walks out the front door without another word.
And I stand there.
Alone.
Like a broken timer just started ticking under my skin.
How the fuck am I going to find her?
One thing is for certain… I can’t do it by myself. I need help.
* * *
Monday, 10:02 a.m.
I hear the clock before I see it.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
It sounds louder today, like it’s laughing at me. I haven’t slept. Not really. I laid there with my eyes open, counting ceiling cracks and trying not to count the hours left instead.
He never said when he’d return.
He never fucking does.
Just, “Find her. Or I’ll sell you instead.”
My bare feet slap softly against the cold wood floors as I leave the hallway and step into the living room. The sun filters through the tall windows, as if trying to make this place look warm and safe.
It’s not.
Not with that clock ticking. Not with Damien’s voice still echoing inside my skull. Not with Reese sitting there, sprawled across the couch like he doesn’t give a single fuck about anything.
He looks up the second I enter.
His eyes sweep over me like a paintbrush, in slow and deliberate strokes.
No smile. Just a gaze that lingers too long on my throat.
“I need your help,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.
