Page 61 of House of Lies

Fuck you, Ethan Remington!

I shove another box, then another. They go flying into those already on the floor. I don’t know what I’m enjoying more—destroying Ethan’s neat stacks, or the sound as the boxes hit the floor.

One box doesn’t thud or a thump, though. It crashes…and there’s the faintly muffled yet unmistakable tinkle of broken glass inside.

Shiiiit…

I stand frozen until I can force my legs to move.

“Please don’t be broken, please don’t be broken…” I whisper as I creep closer to the box that made the ominous sound as it struck the floor. It’s lying on its side, a now clearly visible FRAGILE sticker glaring at me.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

My hands are shaking as I attempt to right the box as carefully as possible, my face scrunching up at the sound of all the broken things tumbling around inside.

If I put everything back where I found it, no one will ever know I was here.

I pick up the box, return it to the stack, and then turn to get another from the floor.

But my body locks up as my brain signals desperately to me.

My gaze flicks back to the box.

BECKS

I blink at the word a few times, making sure I’m actually seeing what I’m seeing.

Becks? As in…short for Rebecca? Dad sometimes called Mom Becka, but never Becks…but maybe that’s Ethan’s pet name for her.

My breath stalls.

I was right. He was keeping a box of my mother’s things down here like some sick trophy. Those must be his footprints. How often has he come back down here to relive what happened?

To relive her murder?

Rage flushes my cheeks with heat.

I reach for the box with every intention of ripping it open, but I’m interrupted by the sound of someone opening the basement door. I instinctively drop into a crouch, my back pressed against the closest stack of boxes as I try to stop breathing.

My soul nearly leaves my fucking body when Ethan calls out, “Cassidy? Are you down here?”

Nothing to see here! Just go about your business.

But Ethan’s spidey sense must be picking up some kind of disturbance because instead of leaving, I hear heavy footfalls coming down the stairs.

Maybe if I’d come out of hiding as soon as he called me, this scenario wouldn’t have seemed so suspicious. But now he’ll know something is up. My only option is to hope he gives up and leaves.

But Ethan Remington smells a fucking rat.

“Cassidy?”

I don’t like the mischievous purr of his voice, like we’re playing a game of hide and seek that doesn’t involve one of us being murdered when it ends.

My heart beats inside my chest like a drummer on meth.

“I know you’re in here…”

You know nothing, Jon Snow.

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