Page 203 of His To Erase
Even if I have to remind her who she fucking belongs to.
I’m halfway to the car with the keys clenched in one hand, when my phone lights up again with an incoming call.
“What.”
“You really don’t have a tracker on her?”
I stop walking.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Travis laughs. “Don’t tell me she’s been practically living in your house and you didn’t tag her.”
I snort. “I tagged her the first night I followed her home.” Then sharper— “I went through her phone while she was asleep. Set it up and scrubbed?—.”
Of course I fucking tagged her, she’s been wired since day one. Then it hits me. Not that she’s tagged, but that I’ve been looking at the wrong shit. I only ever checked what mattered to me. To the mission, and to Frank. I flagged the messages that mentioned his name, scanned for keywords, patterns, and connections. Everything that would tie her to him.
I didn’t look at anything else. I didn’t think I had to because I was so fucking sure she was just collateral.
A low curse slips from my mouth as I hang up the phone, rage already boiling under my skin. I storm to the drawer and yank it open, pulling out the cloned copy of her phone.
I open the messaging app—this time, no filters. No search terms. No tunnel vision. It’s all here.
Thread after thread of quiet fucking panic. Unsaved drafts. Notes she never sent. All the texts between her and Sarah. Deleted photos.
Then I see several messages from an unknown number.
“You still sleep with the light on. You’re hiding from monsters. They’re coming anyway. You don’t remember what happened, but I do.”
“You can play house all you want. But you know who you really belong to.”
Rage slams through me and my vision goes white around the edges.
Fuck.
These messages aren’t just from someone watching her. They’re threats, and they’re intentional. Personal. And I let her walk straight into Frank’s arms thinking I was the biggest danger.
I drop into the chair at my desk, eyes locked on the glowing screen while my pulse hammers behind my teeth. The burn under my skin isn’t anger anymore—it’s fire.
Someone thinks she’s theirs, and touched what’s mine.
I pull up the tracking app and still can’t get anything on where she’s at. Either she found out it was there, or he did.
Fuck.
I don’t care how many smiles he’s fed her. How many silk sheets or lies or dresses he’s tried to put her in. I’m going to carve the truth into his ribs. And when I drag her out of that gilded cage, she’s going to remember what it means to belong to someone.
I slam my fist down and call Travis. He picks up on the second ring.
“Yes, dear.”
My voice is ice. “I need eyes back on her. Now.”
“She’s still at the restaurant—same place she was ten minutes ago.” He exhales. “You want me to move in?”
“No,” I snap. “Stay the fuck where you are. Keep eyes on all three of them.”
A pause.
