Page 71 of Unleashed

Mariah

Oh, shit.

Ruth

I’ll bring my extra boxes, packing tape, and Sharpies.

Brooke

Someone better bring bleach and towels, because I think there’s going to be bloodshed when Maren realizes what’s happening.

Mariah

Can you record it for me so I don’t miss out on the fun?

22

Maren

Trevor stops a few feet inside my trailer, his big body blocking my view. “Holy shit.”

“Move.” I shove at his back, but he doesn’t budge. “How bad is it?”

“Bad enough you need to turn around and go sit in the van with Zara.” Trevor’s voice is eerily calm. “Now.”

Does this prick seriously think he can fuck me into submission? “I know you didn’t just⁠—”

He spins to face me, the move so sudden it sends me tipping back in surprise. Before I can flail around for balance, Trevor’s warm palm is spread across my back, steadying me.

He leans down, eyes aligning with mine. “I’m not trying to be a dick, Maren.” His free hand curves along the line of my jaw. “This is your home. You don’t need to see it like this.”

“Trust me. I lived in places that look way worse than this does now.” I don’t even need to see inside for confirmation. “I have to look. The police need me to tell them if anything is missing.”

Trevor’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching tight. Because he knows I’m right. I appreciate that he’s trying to shield me from this, but whatever is beyond that door won’t be nearly as shocking as he thinks.

After a few more tense seconds, he finally relents, barely shifting his body to one side to reveal the trashed inside of the trailer Zara and I share. Trevor’s big body stiffens next to me as I take it all in, the hand that was on my back curving to grip my hip as he pulls me tighter to his side.

I know he’s expecting a specific sort of reaction from me, and I kinda wish that was what he would get. I wish I felt the kind of horror and sadness most people would in this situation.

Instead, I’m just tired. Pissed my sister’s life is being touched by our mother’s bad decisions. Exhausted, I’m cleaning up yet another of her messes.

Literally.

“I would say most of my electronics are probably gone.” I step over the threshold, ready to get this show on the road. The sooner I figure out what’s going on, the faster the police can make a list of the items I’ll never see again, and the quicker I can make a claim with my renter’s insurance.

Because I learned the hard way I’m not the kind of person who can’t have renters insurance.

The police officer who’s handling the investigation follows me around as I point out everything that was taken. She dutifully makes a list on her pad as I make one in my head so I can recount it to my agent later.

All the televisions are gone, along with the microwave. The box containing my cheap costume jewelry is missing. So is the high-end blender I use to make smoothies and milkshakes. Shockingly, my work laptop is still in its bag, but that’s likely because the dillholes who went through the place didn’t think to look in the basket under the entry table where I store it.

Once I’ve gone through each room, the detective scans her report. “What about money? Did you have any cash they might have stolen?”

I snort. “Absolutely not. With a mother like mine, you learn real quick to keep money where she can’t get her hands on it.”

I’ve had a bank account since the day I turned eighteen. Before that, I kept any money I made in my locker at school. Because if Janine Lucas knew I had something she could find a way to turn into drugs, she would do everything in her power to obtain it.

I’m actually a little surprised she didn’t try to do that with Zara. I don’t know what saved my sister from one of the many horrifying fates she could have suffered, but I’m so fucking grateful it did.