Page 75 of Forsaken Devotion: Part 2
“Lucian!” Josephine’s voice pushed through the fog of anger, and I focused on her precious face turned toward me. I cupped her slim jaw. Her eyebrows caused a furrow between them.
“I’m sorry,” I gritted out.
“Why? You didn’t do this.”
Inadvertently, I had—by my cowardice.
“I promise you, I will protect you.” The vow fell from my lips, but the dent between her eyebrows only deepened.
“It’s okay, Lucian.” She seemed utterly fine. Unbothered by the insult surrounding us. “It’s just stuff.”
I swiped my thumb across the side of her cheek.
“I love you,” I said gruffly and kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you home. I’ll send someone to clean.”
“I don’t mind doing it,” she protested as I swept her against my side and strode toward the front door, despite her attempt to wiggle away. Ignoring her, I grabbed the mail sticking out of the metal holder beside her door.
She huffed and finally followed with zero resistance.
As soon as I returned home, I’d call Bruno to check the immediate area.
28
Ileaned against the wall outside Lucian’s home office. He’d been in there since we arrived from my apartment. The man was pissed; he’d been on calls from the moment we arrived, hours ago.
Now it was evening.
I’d spent my time wandering the house and periodically coming to listen to Lucian shouting at someone. He’d been on edge since we left my apartment. He wanted Cierra’s throat.
It made me feel good, cared for, loved.
I pushed off the wall and took the stairs down to the first floor.
It’d been a few days since I’d spoken to Samantha or checked in on her, but I’d promised her some alone time. On my way through the hallway leading to the kitchen, where the back door was, I pulled my hair into a ponytail. The screen door creaked shut behind me, and I crossed the lawn until I reached the house on the right.
I rapped my knuckles on the door. I stepped back and looked up at the window where her bedroom was. I knocked again.
“Samantha?” I called.
Usually, she answered immediately. The sick pit in my stomach was getting worse. I turned the knob, and it opened.
“Samantha, can I come in?” No answer. I stepped inside and the smell hit me across the face. Rot.
What the hell? I crept in closer. There was no one in the kitchen or living room, so I headed down the hall to the bedrooms. The bathroom door was wide open. I headed directly for it.
“Are you taking a bath—” I screamed, staggering back into the door frame. She lay in the tub, filled with crimson water, dressed, and her wrists slit from all the way to her elbow.
“No,” I choked out, clamping my hand on my mouth. Her chest wasn’t moving. She was frighteningly still. I rushed forward and dropped to my knees next to her, grabbing her shoulder to shake her. “Samantha?” Her head flopped, and she slipped into the bath another inch. Water splashed over the lip of the tub. I was going to be sick. The macabre scene made my stomach sour.
I lifted my trembling hand to her pulse. Nothing. And she was so cold, her face set in a serene mask. Even the corners of her lips were slightly lifted.
Once I staggered to my feet, I stumbled back, turning away from her and ended up staring at my wide-eyed reflection. A piece of paper was taped to the mirror.
I can’t be without him. Sorry.
Thank you for being a friend, Joey.
I pressed my hand over my thundering heart. A sob ripped free, and I stumbled out of the room.
