Page 43 of Law Of Love

“I can understand why people don't fancy having to move just to follow their significant other around, especially since they don't even know if they’ll be coming back from work every night. Some of the stuff we do is dangerous, and dying isn't unheard of.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Brent replied, chomping on a chocolate bar he'd just pulled from his pocket, his mouth full. “A few months ago, we were doing a raid and one of our guys got shot in the leg. There was blood everywhere, and he couldn't get to cover. We had to drag him behind a storage unit, but he didn’t make it.” He spoke so casually about the subject, his voice holding little emotion, and it was evident that he’d become desensitised to the gruesome side of his line of work.

Gulping, I began abusing my cuticles. Just the thought of going to work and not knowing if you were going to make it home alive was terrifying. Was that how Kaleb felt every time he left the house?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see Hannah had sent me a few messages about our project. I replied quickly, my finger subconsciously lingering on my father's number a few messages down. Frowning, I clicked on his name, grinding my teeth as I allowed the call to go through, moving my way into the kitchen away from an unbothered Brent, who was gawking at the TV.

Hearing about how life was never guaranteed had hit a nerve—because the thought that there was a chance that I’d never see my dad again was pulled to the forefront of my mind.

I was going to give it one more shot.

My phone made a strange beeping sound, and I listened to the automated woman's voice on the other end.

This number is no longer in service. Please contact your provider if this issue is believed to be an error.

Staring at my phone in shock, I shook my head, my mouth becoming dry and my heart banging against my chest as if it were eager to escape.

What the fuck? My father had changed his number.

Twenty: Freya

Ifelt awful. Hannah had trusted me to complete my part of the project, and instead of doing so, I'd spent the evening in bed staring aimlessly at my sketchpad. Drawing always made me feel better, but it hadn’t this time.

We were now way behind schedule, and like my father, I was leaving others to pick up the pieces. It wasn't like me.

“You okay?” she asked me once we left our lecture, turning to me with a frown. “You didn't send over your part of the project.”

I gulped. “I know, I'm so sorry. I'm going to do it tonight.”

Cocking her head, my friend furrowed her eyebrows. “Freya, are you sure you're okay? You look, and no offence, like crap.”

“I was restless last night. My dad changed his number.”

Hannah's mouth fell open, and she gawked at me, her hazel eyes like saucers. “What the fuck! What an asshole!”

I didn't want to think about it. I'd wasted so much of my time worrying about him and his well-being when, actually, he'd left us for good.

“Get your part of the project over to me when you can.” Hannah sighed. “There's no pressure to do it tonight if you need some alone time.”

Giving her a good squeeze, we both made our way out towards the parking lot, but a small gasp left my friend's lips, and she gripped my bicep tightly.

“Ow,” I complained. “What?”

I followed her gaze to see Zach making his way out of his car. Both of his eyes were encased in painful-looking purple bruises, with a tinge of green at the corners. He hadn't been back to college, and this was the first time I’d seen him since he’d barged into Kaleb's house.

Spotting me, he narrowed his eyes, clutching his files and lanyard tightly, hurrying into the building after slamming his car door harder than necessary. He turned an immediate left—heading for the office.

“I thought he’d dropped out already, to be honest,” Hannah muttered. “It looked like he was handing his stuff in.”

I hummed in response. The thought of never seeing Zach again was a relieving one, but I didn’t understand why he'd just drop out of college. Surely not because he’d been beaten up?

Dropping Hannah home, I sped to Jackie and Kaleb's house. I hadn't seen him this morning—my guess being that he had gone to the shooting range with Brent. I hoped they hadn't. Will was suspicious of them, and after finding out he was most likely responsible for more than one murder, I felt uncomfortable with them being in his presence.

I entered the house to see Kaleb splayed out on the couch, watching the TV at an excessive volume, his gun on his chest, the cold metal sitting right in between his pectoral muscles. He was playing with it, seeming to have not noticed me, and I crept towards him with my eyebrows raised. “What are you watching?”

He hopped up from the couch at lightning speed, clutching his gun and pointing it straight at me, his eyebrows pulled together.

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