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What isn’t?
My inability to unravel their discussion by only hearing one side makes frustration and unease boil through me.
They could be talking about anything. About anyone.
It might have nothing to do with me or the situation with Rosewood and Dad.
Weston must deal with these types of calls on a daily basis, making decisions that affect hundreds of people across the state. Just because I haven’t seen him do it before doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened every day since I arrived.
He’s good at hiding things, and he would surely have made certain I wasn’t around to overhear or see anything I shouldn’t. But he didn’t bother to check to make sure I was out of earshot when he accepted this call.
Because he was rattled by what just happened between us or by the call itself?
“You don’t have to worry about Fox. I’ll do whatever is necessary.”
A knife slices through my chest, robbing me of all the air in my lungs.
He ends the call with a muttered curse and shoves back his chair. The scrape of the feet against the wood floor makes me jump and race toward the front foyer to dart up the stairs before he can catch me eavesdropping.
His side of the conversation replays through my head as I make my way up, glancing over my shoulder to ensure he isn’t following.
That had to be about Dad, right?
He said he would do whatever’s necessary.
What the fuck does that mean?
The vision of the valley and gorge laid out before me, filled with bodies of Barker enemies, climbing from their graves in retaliation for what’s been done to them, flashes through my head violently.
Like a horror movie coming to life.
The Beast’s huge handprints wringing their necks, if they have them. Others headless, his precise axe skills on display.
I cringe and gag slightly, staggering a step right before I reach the top landing. Turning to stare down, I wait for him to reappear while I try to regain my composure.
He never does.
Either he stayed in the living room or snuck out through the kitchen.
I sink to my knees, gripping the banister to keep myself from falling over completely. For the first time since that initial night, I’m truly afraid of Weston Barker.
That part of him is so easy to separate and lock away when there isn’t any evidence of it glaring in my face—or ringing in my ears.
Weston might hurt Dad—or worse.
If this Rosewood situation can’t be fixed in a way that appeases the Barkers, there’s a very real chance I’ll lose him forever.
I’ve managed to push away that fear over the past few weeks since Dad was here because I believe in him and know he’ll do everything in his power to make things right—both for himself and especially for me. I thought the fact that so much time has passed without anything happening or any word meant things were going well, moving in the right direction.
But maybe I was wrong.
About a lot of things.
I have to help him.
At the moment, I don’t have a clue how, but there has to be something I can do to save the most important person in my life, even if Weston has repeatedly told me to stay out of it.
My eyes drift to the library doors.
