Page 71 of Buried in Blood
The SUV ride is silent.
Not quiet.
Silent.
The kind that hums in your bones and makes every breath feel too loud. Reese is behind the wheel, jaw clenched so tight I can hear it click every time we hit a bump in the road. Brooke sits beside me in the back seat, her hands folded perfectly in her lap like a little doll placed too carefully in the wrong house.
She hasn’t spoken since we left the compound.
She hasn’t even blinked much.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
Her eyes slide to mine. Slow. Deliberate.
“I’m with Damien,” she says like it’s supposed to be reassuring.
It’s not.
Reese glances at us in the rearview mirror but says nothing. I can feel his thoughts chewing at the silence. I want to ask him what he saw on the drive. If anything went wrong. If anyone followed us.
If he thinks Damien is losing it.
But I don’t.
Because the last time I asked Reese a question, he told me it was safer if I stopped needing answers.
The gate to the main house groans as it opens. Reese pulls in and kills the engine. The gravel crunches under our boots as we get out. Brooke doesn’t hesitate—she walks straight to the porch, like she’s memorized the map of this place already. Like she belongs here.
Reese unlocks the front door and steps aside. “East wing. Two rooms. Separate. You both stay put unless I say otherwise.”
His voice is clipped, robotic. He’s trying not to feel anything.
Brooke pauses in the entryway. “Which room is mine?”
“The one without bars,” Reese mutters, brushing past her.
I follow them inside, heart thudding as I pass the cold fireplace and the boarded-up windows. Everything smells like bleach and pine cleaner, like Damien was trying to erase the ghosts before we arrived.
Brooke’s room is on the right. Mine is across the hall.
Reese tosses her a folded blanket and steps back. “There are clothes in the dresser. Use them.”
She catches it, hugs it to her chest like a gift, and smiles. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t smile back.
I step into my room slowly. Same layout as before. One bed. One bolted dresser. No door lock from the inside.
Reese leans in the doorway behind me. “Lights out in twenty.”
“Will there be food?”
“You’ll eat when Damien says.”
My jaw clenches. I nod once.
He starts to walk away but pauses, glancing toward Brooke’s door.
