AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Because Mom said a vigilante mob tracked him to his new address and set fire to his house,” I murmur to myself. “No one does that without a good reason.”
And Mom is housing a man connected to a monster who turns little children into killers?
Shit.
Now I regret making Xero set her free.
This place is turning me claustrophobic. I need to get the fuck out.
I leave the room, making sure to avoid looking at the crime board, and walk to the shelf separating my crawlspace from Mrs. Baker’s. I fumble around its panels, looking for the lever Xero pulled to activate the door, but all I find are raised screws.
Typical.
Next, I climb the ladder leading up to the cupboard under the stairs and push on the access hatch, but it’s jammed. Tilting my head, I search around for a knob, a lever, a handle… Anything I can use to release the trap door, but it remains closed.
So, I’m his prisoner.
Grinding my teeth, I descend back into the crawlspace and trudge to the bedroom, where I left all the items I took from Mom’s house. Xero won’t get away with keeping me here as his toy, no matter how much he claims it’s for my protection.
First, I send a string of angry texts. When he doesn’t reply to them, I sit on the edge of the bed and open the photo album.
What if Xero really is out to get me? I’ve read stories about antiheroes romancing the daughters of men they want to destroy. It’s not a stretch to think he’s employing the same tactics. Maybe Xero is trying to get to Uncle Clive through me.
I shake my head. That doesn’t even make sense. Xero must have seen Uncle Clive all those times he haunted me while I was hiding out at Mom’s. He had multiple opportunities to snatch his father’s associate, but he was too busy sucking my fingers and edging me until I passed out from frustration.
After sending another barrage of texts, I crack open the photo album and look through the pictures again. They’re exactly as I remember—a timeline of Dad’s childhood, adolescence, his marriage, and my birth.
I stare at younger pictures of Mom, and it’s just like looking in the mirror, except without the queasiness and trauma. Mom’s hair is the same dark brown as mine would be if I hadn’t dyed one side black and bleached the other.
She doesn’t age much over the years, but toward the end of the album, she looks strained. The last photo is out of sequence with the others, because she’s at least six months pregnant.
It’s taken from one of the dinner parties she loves to host. I don’t remember any from our previous house, but the dishes in these photos look elaborate. Mom probably made them all by herself, because she’s the kind of control freak who won’t allow outside help. It’s no wonder she appears so drawn.
My gaze lands on a picture of one party, where Uncle Clive sits at the table with a stern-looking date with severe black makeup. Next to him is a man I recognize from Xero’s photos with the same strong jawline as my stalker but deep blue eyes.
It’s Xero’s father.
One photo of Uncle Clive and Xero’s father might be an unfortunate coincidence. Two is a disaster. If my murderous instincts and missing memories are in any way related to their friendship, then Uncle Clive might have to escape yet another house fire.
The door opens, and Xero steps in, his features softening. “I told you not to wait up.”
I stand so abruptly that the album falls to the floor. All the conclusions I drew from my sleuthing evaporate into the ether, replaced by the objection to being his prisoner.
“Why have you locked me in the crawlspace of my own home?” I snap.
Xero’s eyes narrow. “Is that any way to speak to the man you love?”
I huff a laugh. “How can I fall in love with a man who locks me up in a basement like a psychopath?”
His expression doesn’t even flicker because all I’m saying is the truth. He wants to cage me up like a pet mouse or a bird with broken wings to use for his sick pleasures.
Crossing the room, he picks up the fallen album. “Ungrateful little ghosts who mouth off get punished.”
I step back, my brain catching up with the fact that I’m trapped in a confined space with Xero Greaves. Now probably isn’t the time for bravado, since I’m no match for a trained killer.
“At least explain why I can’t leave.”
“Because I’ve just worked out the person who wants you dead.”
