Page 8 of Burned Dynasty: Part One

Exactly what Adam had said. Why do those words bother me so much?

“Is Damion here?”

His lips thin. “I don’t know.”

He knows, I think. He just doesn’t want to tell me.

Either way, I decide that’s better than him definitely not being here. I reach for the door and step outside to find Adam waiting on me. He motions me toward the front of the house, and we start walking that direction. “How long do you plan to keep me out here?”

“Until we know you’re safe.”

“It’s West Senior,” I remind him. “I’ll never be safe until he’s in jail, and staying here forever isn’t an option.”

“You don’t give us enough credit,” he assures me. “Or Damion, for that matter.”

We reach the steps, and I turn to face him. “What does that even mean? You told me Damion wants to kill his father. That’s not a solution I want to give him credit for.”

“We’ll stop him from doing anything crazy,” he says.

“You said that will require my input, and you won’t even tell me if he’s here. What is Damion doing? What is he planning?”

“You’ll have to talk to Damion about that.”

“And how do you suggest I do that? He won’t take my calls or answer my messages.”

“It’ll work out, Alana,” he assures me softly, but he offers no more and changes the subject. “You have the entire upper level of the house. There’s a bedroom, a full kitchen, and even a gym. All of your things from the room you’d rented at the Ritz are already there.”

“Of course,” I say. “You’re Walker Security. You knew I’d be here before I knew I’d be here.”

“But nobody else knows,” he reminds me and indicates the stairs.

I sigh and walk up the stairs, only to have him reach the porch before me and punch in a code. He opens the door for me. I draw in a breath, hoping and praying Damion will be inside, my actions eager as I enter the foyer. Instinct somehow pulls my gaze upward for a brief glance at the donut-shaped chandelier above me, which I dismiss quickly. My attention rockets toward the right to the living area. The furniture is leather, and the fireplace is broad and dormant. The room is empty, and I feel this realization with a punch in my belly.

Damion isn’t here, at least not where I can see him.

“The fridge upstairs is stocked,” Adam says as he joins me, “at least with the basics. We can go to the store later and get you whatever you want. Me and Savage will be close if you need us.”

Savage enters the foyer behind us, and it hits me that Damion could be upstairs waiting on me, and my adrenaline surges all over again. Without a word, I launch myself up the stairs, only to have Adam call out, “There’s a pool behind the house, Alana. Take a swim if you like. It might calm your nerves.”

I don’t care about a pool or swimming or anything but Damion, and I don’t bother to respond. I reach the landing and look left and right. The double doors to the right indicate the bedroom to me, and I rush in that direction, enter, and barely spy the room for my search for Damion. My disappointment is real and fast. Again, he’s not here. The room is empty. I am empty. I rush out of the room and down the hallway, and find the kitchen and gym with no rewards in my search.

With that sense of disappointment absolutely consuming me, I walk back into the bedroom and find myself at the window overlooking the massive rectangular pool with manicured shrubs framing it, sheltering it and another small house—a cottage. Adam’s words replay in my head: “There’s a pool behind the house, Alana. Take a swim if you like. It might calm your nerves.”

It seemed like a random thing to say, but that’s not Adam’s personality. He’s not random in anything he does. It was a message. He wants me to go to that pool, and that must mean it leads me to Damion. I don’t know how, and I don’t care. I just need to find Damion.

I hope. Maybe I’m reaching. Either way, I whirl around, rush to my bag, and pull out the swimsuit I’d bought at the Ritz to swim off my stress. A few minutes later, I’m in sandals, a cover-up, and my suit when I rush down the stairs. Once I’m in the foyer, I find Savage and Adam sitting in the living room, speaking in low tones.

“I’m going to the pool,” I announce.

Adam’s gaze lifts and meets mine. “Good decision. Turn around and go out the back door through the main living area.”

That’s all I need to hear. I rotate, and I’m on the other side of the house, exiting in no time. In a flash, I’m inside those manicured bushes, kicking off my shoes and tearing away my cover-up. I step to the end of the pool and wade into the chilly water, shivering with the temperature, but praying Damion is watching me and that he will come to me. I’m all the way to my neck when my gaze lands on the cottage in the gap of scrubs at the end of the pool.

There were other vehicles when we drove up. We are not alone.

Damion’s here.

And he’s choosing not to come to me. I swim back to the edge of the pool, and frustration starts to form inside me. So many times he walked away from me, and he can’t give me this one time when grief was controlling me. I walk up the steps and sit on the edge, willing Damion to show up, my mind traveling back in time yet again as I remember the last time he tried to walk away. And why? Because of his father.

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