Page 94 of Give Me Peace

“He’s gone?” I question, my voice imploring and full of disbelief. “I can stop hiding now?” Tears streak my cheeks, but I have no idea when I started crying. It feels like someone’s lifted a weight from my chest, but I never realized how heavy it was. How much space it was occupying or the dent it was making. I’m smiling from ear to ear as the reality of what this mean hits me full force. Kash lifts me off my feet, hugging me tightly as our laughter mixes together. It’s the sweetest sound.

“Saylor,” Lochlan calls out to me, demanding my attention. I shake my head, covering my ears and closing my eyes, refusing to listen to the cause of his worry. We can stop right here, enjoy the moment and celebrate the freedom that comes with Liam’s permanent removal from my life. Because I know whatever he needs to tell me is going to eradicate the happiness I’m feeling. It’s the reason Lochlan’s so on edge when he should be overjoyed. My gut is warning me, and this time I won’t ignore it. “Look at me, love.” He pries my hands away and cups my cheeks, urging me to open my eyes.

“Please don’t,” I beg, finally caving and meeting his gaze with my heart flayed open and vulnerable. “Just leave it. Please.”

“I can’t do that, sweetheart.” His thumbs catch my tears as they continue to fall. I nod, knowing he’s going to drop another bomb, but this one is going to be way more destructive when it hits. The only thing I can do is grip his wrists and brace for impact.

“What the fuck is happening right now?” Roan demands, pressing his front to my back as I sway unsteadily. “What’s she talking about, Loch?”

“Liam was pulled from the wreckage of his vehicle, which was discovered by a local group of fishers at the bottom of Catalina Lake. It’s a private hunting lodge, roughly two hundred and twenty miles from Baton Rouge, Louisiana.” Lochlan speaks directly to me, completely ignoring the mountain of rage simmering behind me. “The coroner estimates he’s been dead for quite some time. Well past the month mark.”

And just like that, the weight is back. I stumble, palming the spot on my chest that expands with pressure so rapidly, it knocks the breath out of me. This can’t be right. Their estimation has to be off. Surely, being under water factors into the speed of deterioration. I’m vaguely aware of the guys voicing my same thoughts, but even as we scramble for any other answer—aside from the blatantly obvious one—I know it’s fruitless. Lochlan’s already asked these same exact questions, and he knows they’ve made no mistake in their findings.

Liam has been dead, which means he can’t be the one sending me the postcards.

He hasn’t murdered three innocent women.

As terrifying as it was, Liam was a known threat. We at least had a description to go off of and could point him out in a crowd. Whoever’s orchestrating this cat and mouse game we’ve been unwilling participants in is an entirely new variable. It could be anyone. I have no idea who’d be behind this, but I suppose the escalation in Liam’s behavior makes a lot more sense now. It was never him. The assumptions we made and the thought process we used were absolutely pointless. We know nothing. Not the race or gender of the person taunting me, their motivations or reasoning. We’re not just at a disadvantage, we’re well and truly fucked.

“I need a minute,” I state emphatically, my soft words somehow cutting through the chaos ensuing all around me. The guys are arguing, their own panic and frustration leaking over into their conversations with one another. I’m sure they’re dead set against letting me out of their sights, but no one moves to stop me as I exit the slider and step onto the deck. The humid air hits me, but I breathe through the thickness and head for the stairs. I have no specific destination in mind, just the urge to move. When the faint whisper of waves greets me, I sigh in relief. Like a tether, I feel the draw of the ocean and my feet move towards it without command. Operating on autopilot, I stumble down the access path without much thought to how far I’m going or the worry it’ll cause the guys.

As soon as the shore comes into focus, my toes dig beneath the sand, tears falling in earnest. Just looking at the inky, never-ending surface isn’t enough today. I need to touch it. Be a part of the vastness so I don’t feel so speck-like in comparison. I rush toward the water, tripping in my haste to get there as quickly as I can, terrified the entire Atlantic is somehow going to vanish before I can reach it. When I finally collide with the rough waves, a sob cracks my chest wide open.

I scream and curse, venting my frustration and hurt. Why me? Why now? Just…why?! I let the tide tug me out, wishing the saltwater could cleanse me of the horrors I’ve been subjected to. Praying to whoever might be listening to grant it the ability to right my wrongs and give me back the innocence that’s been so savagely taken from me. Every angry wave that crashes over me beckons me to let go. To slip below the surface, allowing the ocean to sweep me away. Just like that, the pain and fear would be gone.

I can already imagine the relief I’d feel from no longer being weighed down by those debilitating emotions. It’d be fitting, to cease my existence in the same place my father lost his own life. What a way to face my fears of the unknown, forever resting in the depths of the thing that terrifies me but has given me the best memories of my life. I could never do it, though. My heart is tattered and bruised, but it’s still beating. I’ve been given a glimpse of my future, and I want it. Desperately. No one—known or unknown—is going to stand in the way of that. People care about me now. They’d miss me. And I’ll never leave them willingly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Roan screams, ripping me from the water as the tumultuous waves continue to batter the shoreline. Sounds filter back in all at once as the fog is lifted from my mind. Thunder rumbles through the noise accosting me from every direction, snapping my attention to the storm I’ve been oblivious to. Lightning lights the dark sky, striking too close for comfort. Roan hugs me to his chest and sprints for the house, cursing the heavy rain that soaks us to the bone in a matter of seconds. Someone opens the slider as we approach, but Roan carries me straight to his room without uttering a word.

I grunt from the force of being pinned to the wall, but his anger is understandable and I know he’d never hurt me. At least not physically. His words, on the other hand, might be pretty scathing if the look he’s spearing me with is any indication of his current feelings.

All signs point to Roan being very, very pissed at me.

Chapter Forty-Five

Roan

I took my eyes off of Saylor for five fucking seconds and she disappeared. She was just there, on the other side of the slider. Her arms were clutched around her middle as she stared blankly into the distance, but I could see her. If Lochlan’s bomb hadn’t been enough to send her running, the influx of testosterone definitely did the trick. Our panic and worry were causing us to snap at one another instead of addressing the situation like goddamn adults. But it was impossible for me to think with a level head when I couldn’t grasp any one thought for more than a millisecond.

As soon as I realized Saylor was gone, I bolted from the house and took the deck stairs two at a time. I’ve never—not once— questioned our ability to keep her safe. Mine maybe, because of my own bullshit, but never the team’s as a whole. But I was also under the impression that we knew who we were looking for. For nearly two months, I’ve kept my eyes peeled and ears to the ground, waiting for Liam to crawl out from whatever rock he’s been hiding under. Only to find out it’s not even him we’re searching for. Of all the variables we’ve done our best to account for, this outcome never registered as a possibility.

I think I’m pretty self-aware—enough to admit that we’ve been overbearing assholes. If I could bubble wrap Saylor and confine her to quadrant of space that no harm could penetrate, I fucking would. But it’d come at the cost of clipping her wings, and she’s barely gotten a chance to spread them. I’d never want to stunt her healing, but fuck. This feeling…this sick to my stomach, knee-weakening pit that’s gaping inside me makes me question how far I’d be willing to push her.

I can faintly hear the guys still yelling over one another, but my entire focus is on finding Saylor. My mind is conjuring up every worst-case scenario imaginable. That this unknown threat has somehow slipped past our defenses and gotten to our girl. I’ve seen firsthand how quickly things can go south, and I’ll be damned if sit back and watch it play out in real-time with someone else I love.

My chest burns from how long I’ve been holding my breath, silently praying I’ll catch sight of her. Those little legs couldn’t have carried her too far, so every minute that passes makes my worry ratchet up even more. When her small frame finally comes into view, a mixture of emotions pummels me so forcefully, it almost knocks me on my ass. I’m relieved as fuck that I’ve found her, but there’s an undercurrent of anger and indignation fighting for first place.

Saylor’s standing waist-deep amongst the crush of waves, her small bodily swaying as the storm picks back up. My vision tunnels as I erase the few yards between us. She’s completely despondent, but I yell at her anyway. Partly to bring her back to the present, but mostly because I’m mad as hell and her zoned-out expression is doing absolutely nothing to lessen it. Lightning and thunder accompany the downpour as I hug Saylor’s shivering body to my chest.

Fuck, baby girl. What the hell were you thinking?

I barely remember coming through the slider. Once I’ve got her in my room, I pin her to the wall. My chest is heaving, jaw clenched painfully to keep myself from saying something I might regret. She starts to slide, so I press my hips forward to anchor her in place. My cock thickens from the contact, but I pay it no mind.

“Care to explain why you decided to take a dip in the ocean mid thunderstorm?” I grind out. Saylor bites her lip but doesn’t offer me any sort of explanation. Her gaze cuts behind me, and that just pisses me off further. I grip her jaw and bring her attention back to me. “I’m right here, Little Fighter. Eyes on me.”

“Ro,” Loch calls out, a clear warning in his voice.

“Fuck off,” I spit, never breaking contact with Saylor. “This is between me and her.”