Page 58 of Their Domme

“One linked to the trafficking ring,” Sacha said, not looking away from Nicholette. “No idea why, but every person we’ve found connected to the ring has ties to something that goes on there.”

“We’ll go,” Blake volunteered, gesturing to their two men. “No use having too many people if you’re trying to be discreet.”

Blake smirked at their father’s raised eyebrow and gave us all a two-finger wave, not waiting for a response before they walked away. The other two, Robin and Conrad, followed with no complaints about the constant change of plans.

“Did you go into the house already?” I asked Nicholette. She slowly shook her head, her face sober and empty when she looked at me.

“No. I never wanted to go back here or that house. Ever.” Nic shuddered as she let go of Sacha’s hand.

“How bad is this going to be?” I asked, and she gave me a sad smile.

“It’s a normal house. Nothing too crazy, at least from what I remember. But I’d rather be back in that basement with Warren than go through the front door of my childhood home.”

With that, she opened the car door and slid in. I remembered that basement—her tied up, bleeding, bruised, and half dead when we found her. Nic calling my name and her screams echoing through the walls. She would rather be tortured, raped, and drugged than go back into that house, yet she was going to do it anyway.

Cold pure fury filled me at the knowledge that someone would ever make her feel that way. I didn’t let my anger get out of check often; in fact, it took a whole lot for that to happen. But I could feel it starting to wake up at her declaration. I hoped we would figure out who this stalker was and catch them before I lost it.

I didn’t want to lose her or anyone else ever again because of it.

My sister had been enough.

Nicholette

Tuesday

It looked almost exactly how I remembered.

White, two-story house with faded blue shutters that were for decoration only. The front porch was clean of messes, holding just a few chairs and a table out front where my parents would sit and talk while I tried to stay out of Dad’s way. The yard that was usually so well maintained was overgrown, and I could almost hear my parents yelling about it with disapproval while I cataloged every weed that had taken over the place.Good.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, fighting the urge to burn the place to the ground. The only good memories I had here were with Thomas, and even those didn’t outweigh all the horrible things that had happened in this house—because that was what it was, a house. This structure was nohome.

“Nic?” Vas’ deep voice instantly tore me from my depressing thoughts. “Ready?”

“No.” I tried to laugh, but it broke, betraying my nerves. “But let’s get it over with.”

Opening the door, I climbed out and joined the others who were standing around, staring at the house, while Ryan got out of his cop car and gave us all a hard look.

“No destroying anything, Nicholette. Everything here is still evidence until we know who killed your mom and what happened to your dad and brother.” He glared at me until I agreed.

“Fine,” I answered blandly, feeling numb. I could barely tear my eyes away from the house. Wrenn shot me a concerned look, but I shook my head, not willing to lean on anyone right now. I couldn’t have a breakdown here at this house; they, and it, had gotten enough of my tears. “Lead the way.”

Ryan studied me and sighed before spinning on his heel and hurrying up the steps to the front door. I didn’t look at anyone, worried it would keep me from moving forward, strode across the porch, and walked inside. It was mostly the same. The faded blue sofa was still in the living room, the TV set up in front of it, but now there was a Xbox sitting there as well. I could see the kitchen from here, and everything was clearly in its place, no mess made.

Except for the pool of blood staining the carpet by the front door.

“How did she die?” I asked Ryan as the others filed in behind me.

“Shot in the chest at close range.” He paused for a second as if waiting for me to react, but I was so fucking numb I had nothing to give him. Roughly clearing his throat, he continued. “Then in the face when she was on the ground.”

I nodded a few times as I silently and carefully walked through the living room to the stairs. The photos on the wall were mostly generic landscapes with a few family pictures mixed in—just my parents and Thomas. There was no evidence that I had ever lived here.

How cliché. The parents that weren’t my parents had erased all signs of their false, unfavored child.

It was an odd thing to wrap my head around, so while I had tried to push it out of my mind since my meeting with Maeve, I couldn’t do it now. Every part of this house was filled with memories, most awful, some not, but all of them were lies. I had always thought the snide comments and judgment were normal parent stuff, but the secrets I’d learned brought a startling and hard-to-swallow clarity to each of those interactions.

Blinking a few times, I stilled, realizing I had come to a stop in the middle of the hallway. I placed a hand over my abdomen as I looked around, as if that would protect my unborn babies from the memories echoing in the hallway.

“You stupid fucking slut!” My father’s drunken voice yelled outside my door as he fumbled with the locked doorknob. I moved my dresser in front of the door, praying that it would hold him off. The dresser shook with each slam of his body, but that didn’t deter him. “You fucking bitch, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

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