Page 61 of Picture Perfect

Chapter thirty

Dre

"What the fuck?"

The air is tight, thick with a tension that seems to pulse against my skin as I stand by the door of my snowflake's bedroom. It's an ordinary door, or it should be. But something's off—my gut twists, knowing before my hand even reaches for the knob.

There's no lock. How can there be no lock? It's a question that echoes in my mind, a silent scream that finds voice when my fingers curl around the cold metal.

"Come on," I mutter under my breath, willing it to give way. But when I turn, there's resistance. The damn thing is locked. And not from the inside. What the actual fuck?

A growl rumbles up from deep within me—a dark sound that's all too familiar. It's the sound of every twisted part of my existence, every mark on my skin, coming to life.

"Snowflake," I say, turning sharply towards her. My voice slices through the quiet of the room. "What's going on here?"

She’s standing a few paces away, her blonde hair like a halo of moonlight, but there's nothing celestial about the look in her green eyes. They're wide, guarded, a fortress of secrets I'm hell-bent on breaching.

"Nothing, Dre," she replies, her voice too even, too composed. It doesn't match the rapid rise and fall of her chest that I can see even from this distance.

"Nothing?" I step closer, the floorboards creaking beneath my boots, a slow march of dread and anger. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Believe what you want," she counters, her chin tilting up defiantly, but there's a tremor in her stance that belies her strong front.

"Believe what I—Addy, your door locks from the outside." My hand slices through the air, pointing back at the absurdity behind me. "That's not just some quirky house feature. That's something else entirely."

"Drop it, Dre," she says, but it's too late. I’ve seen the flicker of something in her eyes, a shadow that passes too quickly for me to decipher.

"Like hell I will." I’m close enough now to reach out and touch her, to maybe shake the truth out of her, but I clench my fists instead, keeping them by my sides. She's been through enough; I won't be another person who uses force on her. But that doesn’t mean I’ll just let this slide. "Who put the lock there, Snowflake?"

Her lips press into a thin line, and I can see the muscles in her jaw clench. She’s holding back, building walls I’m determined to tear down.

"Who, Snowflake?" I repeat, my voice barely more than a whisper now, yet it feels like it could shatter the world—or at least the walls between us.

Her eyes dart to the space behind me, seeking an escape I can't let her find. Heat curls in my belly, a dangerous mix of anger and something else as I push for answers.

"Where do you think you're going?" Chess's voice is low, almost playful, but there's an edge to it that resonates with my own frustration. He steps into her path, his hands finding her hips with an easy familiarity that makes my jaw tighten.

"Chess," she breathes, her voice a mixture of warning and weary resignation.

"Stay still, Addy," he commands gently, yet firmly enough that she can't ignore his grip. I close the distance between us until we're nearly touching. The air crackles with tension, thick and suffocating.

"Tell me about the lock, Snowflake," I demand, my fingers ghosting over her pulse point at her neck. It's a vulnerable spot, a reminder of the fragility beneath her steely facade. I'm tempted to squeeze, to coerce the truth from her unwilling lips, but I hold back—barely.

"Stop it, Dre," Saint's voice rumbles from somewhere nearby, heavy with disapproval. "You're better than that."

"Better than what? Wanting to know why she's caged like some damn animal?" My words are sharp, a blade poised at the heart of this mystery.

"Back off!" Addy snaps, her green eyes flashing with a fire that tells me I've pushed too far. "You don't understand. If they hear—"

"Who, Snowflake?" I cut her off, the urgency clawing at my insides. "Who will hear?"

"Everyone!" Her voice is a whip-crack in the silence. "And then we'll all be in trouble, not just me. Is that what you want, huh? To drag everyone down with your need to play anti-hero?"

I reel back as if she's slapped me. She's right; this isn't just about me or her—it's about all of us. But that doesn't mean I can just let this go.

"Damn it, Snowflake." My hand falls away from her neck, leaving an invisible mark where my fingers yearn to press. "I just want to keep you safe."

"Safe?" A bitter laugh escapes her, and she looks away. "That's a luxury I gave up on a long time ago, Dre. Maybe it's time you did too."

---