Page 129 of Chaotic Curse
I pull my phone out of my pocket before I can overthink it.I hesitate for half a beat, my thumb hovering over his name, before I hit the call button.
Straight to voicemail.
Maybe he’s driving.Maybe he’s got that auto Do Not Disturb on.
I don’t want to distract him if he’s on the road, so I send a quick text.
Call me ASAP.
Then I just…stand there.
The walls feel closer today, the air thicker.There’s a heaviness in this suite I can’t shake, like I’m being watched, even though I know I’m not.
I can’t stay here.Not alone.
The main house is better.Bigger.With Raven and Vinnie upstairs, even if they’ve probably gone to bed early to have sex.Seems that’s all they do sometimes.
The moment I step inside, the quiet hits me.No TV.No murmured voices.Just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the tick of the wall clock.
The time makes me pause.It’s too early for them to be asleep unless they…
I smile faintly, shaking my head.Yeah.Sex again.
The thought makes something warm stir in my chest.But the warmth fades quickly, replaced by restlessness.I need something—anything—to keep my brain from spiraling back to the chocolate, the clues, the past I’ve been running from.
Belinda.
I haven’t spent much time with her lately.She might like a game or a chat.Something light.
I head down the hall, stop outside her door, and knock.
No answer.
That’s odd.She’s never asleep this early.
I knock again, harder this time.“Belinda?”
Still nothing.
A faint unease curls in my stomach.Belinda is a night owl to her core, especially since Raven told her staying up late reading under the covers was “forbidden.”Reverse psychology at its finest—Raven wanted her to read more, wanted her mind lost in other worlds instead of looping over the scars her father left.She has her music, of course, but Raven and Vinnie—and I agree—want her to be well-rounded.
One more knock, my voice firmer.“Belinda, I’m coming in.”
I push open the door.The bed is perfectly made, the blanket smoothed down.
No Belinda.
I check the bathroom.The closet.Even glance under the bed.Maybe she’s hiding.She once confided in me that she hid under her bed when she still lived with her father.He always found her though.
But she has no reason to be hiding here.
And she’s not.No one is under the bed.
The curl in my stomach starts to tighten.
I step out into the hall and call her name, my voice louder this time.No answer.
I search the kitchen—empty.The living room—silent.The back patio—deserted.
