Page 111 of Her Dark Angel

The resurgence of that monster has me worried about Travis. The secrets we share could shake this industry to its core with the potential to take down a lot of well-known people.

We promised we would never speak a word of it because we knew no one would believe us. We knew if that information were to ever get out… well, it would be a shit show. And we didn’t want to ever relive the events of what happened to us, so we agreed to bury the memories deep within ourselves and continue on with our lives.

We may have buried the truth, but we will never forget it.

“Thanks, Adam,” I finally say. My lip is tender from how hard I’ve been chewing on it, but I welcome the pain. “I’ll, um…I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Wait, Kin,” Adam calls hurriedly, his voice filled with concern. He clears his throat “Are you okay? You sound… off.”

“I’m fine.” It’s an automated response. I’ve already checked out of the conversation. All my attention is focused on getting in contact with Travis to check in on him. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? I have something I need to go do.”

“Okay, yeah,” he says and blows out a long breath. “I’ll talk to you soon. Make sure you get some rest and drink lots of water.”

I manage to mumble a quick, “Okay,” before hanging up the phone. Without so much as taking a breath, I’m already dialing Travis’s home phone number and pressing the hard plastic to my ear.

After the repeated ringing, I’m met with his dial tone. Slamming the phone down on the table, I jump to my feet and pace the patio.

Should I go to his house and see him in person? Maybe he’s just not answering because he’s cooking dinner or working in his office. He’s a busy man, so it would make sense. I don’t want to disturb him at this hour, but after the news I just got, I need to see my oldest best friend.

Without giving it much thought, I run through the house to the front door and slip on my black flats. My heart is racing in my chest as I snatch my handbag off the entryway table and swing open the front door.

As I’m rushing down the front steps to my car in the driveway, taking two at a time, I barely manage a wave to Mrs. Jones raking her front yard before I’m in the car and racing across the city to Travis’s house.

My knuckles are white from the grip on the steering wheel and my heart is beating so hard I feel it thumping in my temples.

I don’t know why I’m so nervous to see Travis. Maybe it’s the fact that the fucking Devil has just showed up on our doorsteps after many years and now we’re going to have to face him again.

We spent far too long healing to be thrown back into the den with that man.

I just want to know if Travis is okay. Because if he’s okay, then I know we’ll be okay together.

After being stuck in the evening traffic rush, I finally see Travis’s large mansion at the end of the street. Every house I pass is beautiful with lush gardens and many expensive cars in the driveway. Just like Nash’s house. But Travis’s is by far the biggest and most stunning.

As I pull into the driveway behind his black Range Rover, I gaze up at the two-storey house. It’s a mixture of white bricks and panels with half-hexagon bay windows on both levels. The lawn has been mowed recently because the smell of freshly cut grass reaches my nose as I walk up the cobblestone pathway to the front door. The humidity in the air forms a layer of moisture on the back of my neck, adding to the cold sweat spreading across my skin

As I approach the front door, light raindrops hitting my exposed skin, I realize the house is dark. There should be at least one or two lights on inside, especially if his car is in the driveway.

A sense of dread washes over me as I ring the doorbell. The sound is eerie as it echoes throughout the large home. Peeking through the windows by the front door, I can’t see a thing because it’s so dark inside.

After ringing the bell a few more times, I try the door handle. To my surprise, it turns easily. The door creaks as I push it open slowly, ignoring the sense that something is wrong.

Everything is fine, I tell myself in the hopes it’ll ease the nerves coursing through my veins at the situation. Travis is fine.

“Hello?” I call out into the calm, dark house. No movement follows. Not even the sound of his voice telling me he’s busy or is coming. Nothing. “Travis? Are you home?”

Again, silence follows.

My subconscious forces me to step over the threshold and walk further into the house. If his car is in the driveway, then he must be home.

Maybe he’s just taking a nap after a long day and didn’t hear the doorbell the five times I pressed it.

Instead of checking downstairs, I head up the staircase to my right where his bedroom is located. Muscle memory helps me take each step, the floorboards creaking under my feet as I climb slowly.

Breathing is painful as I take my time walking to the second floor. I don’t know why my chest is twisting painfully, and I don’t have time to figure it out before I step onto the landing and make my way down the dark hallway to his room at the far end.

As I get closer, each step makes me feel like I’m in a horror movie and at any moment someone is going to jump out and scare me. It wouldn’t surprise me if Travis saw my car in the driveway from his bedroom window and decided to scare the shit out of me because he knew it would make me laugh.

At least, I’m hoping that’s the case.

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