Page 122 of Demise

“Three, two, one,” I say before Ronan punches the gas.

The car takes off, soaring down the long driveway before coming to a sharp halt at the front steps. We both spring out of the car, choosing to leave the doors open as the quieter option before moving up the stairs. I inwardly thank the military for teaching me how light on your feet you can be, even for a guy my size, when your life is literally on the line.

Thanks to the maid, the door is already unlocked, and it takes virtually no effort to slip inside the house. Ronan and I work as a team, our eyes scanning the entire perimeter before moving forward. When we’re clear, he hustles forward, moving into Christopher’s office while I’m on his heels. He begins pulling drawer after drawer, all coming up empty with a false bottom, until he comes to one.

“Got it,” he mutters as he lifts the false bottom. Ronan sets the journal in there and pauses, his brows furrowing.

“What the—”

I look over to see him shuffling through several pieces of paper before he holds up a photograph. He flips it around for me to see and the sight turns my stomach. Christopher and Henry are in it, completely naked, as they fuck a woman tied up. Her hands are tied to the bed, her mouth stuffed with Henry’s cock as tearsstream down her face. That isn’t the part that is particularly surprising, though. The shocking part is that it’s not just any woman. It’s Stephanie, and based on their appearance, I’d wager this was just from weeks ago when Stephanie was in town.

Ronan reaches inside again, grabbing out another photograph that is nearly identical. This time it isn’t Stephanie tied up, but Giselle Parris. She’s a spitting image of Skyla, but the photo is clearly much older than the one with Stephanie.

Ronan continues rifling through the papers inside the drawer before his entire frame stills. The last photograph he pulls up isn’t a sexual one like I expect it to be. Instead, it’s of Corwin, standing over Skyla as she sleeps in her dorm room. Ronan flips over the back to see a date scribbled onto the back of the photo in sharpie. October 14th.

What the fuck.

So, Christopher knew about Corwin well before anyone did. He knew what he was doing, and he didn’t stop him, didn’t intervene. I’m not sure why that surprises me, maybe because he seemed so confused and taken by surprise. I guess that’s a testament to what a slimy fucking bastard he is, and if the other pictures are anything to go off, a fucking rapist too.

I glance down at the clock, my eyes rounding. One minute left.

“Now!” I snap, not having to explain myself as I peek out the door and bolt to the front entry.

I hear Ronan rustle the papers, setting the false bottom back and closing the cabinet before he’s out the door. I make it to the car first, sliding into the open door as I fire up the car and take off. Ronan dives in just in time and slams his door shut as I speed down the driveway. My clock ticks on my phone, slowly counting down. Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven.

My hands white knuckle the steering wheel, pushing the vehicle as far and as fast as I can. I just have to make it out of Christopher’s perimeter, and we’ll be in the clear. I whipthe wheel hard to the right, speeding down the road until we approach the neighbor’s house. For good measure, I drive another house down before I screech to a halt, grabbing my phone and pulling up the screen with Christopher’s feed.

My finger practically smashes against my screen as I resume the live feed, and two seconds later, my alarm goes off. A ragged breath leaves Ronan and I simultaneously before we begin laughing. Not joy filled laughs, but shaky adrenaline fueled laughter because our bodies don’t know how else to process this moment. I shake my head and put the car into drive once more, getting the fuck out of here.

We don’t speak as I drive, and Ronan doesn’t question me when I don’t go back to the house, but instead my property in Peabody. I’m on edge, and I just want to go somewhere that I know won’t have eyes on us.

When we pull up to the seemingly humble house, I enter in the passcode for the gate. The wrought iron gate swings open, allowing us inside. Just because it’s a humble house, doesn’t mean I don’t take my security seriously.

Together, Ronan and I step out of the car once I’m parked and make our way inside the house. As soon as the door shuts, Ronan speaks.

“What the FUCK was all that?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I guess we know why Stephanie disappeared practically overnight. Why the fuck didn’t she say anything?”

“To who?” Ronan counters. “To me? Her rapist’s brother? To Asher? Her rapist’s son? To her niece that she’s tried to protect from this shit world her whole life?”

All fair points.

“What’s up with that anyways? They were recreating a memory from their time with Giselle or something?” I wonder.

Ronan shakes his head. “Something like it. Christopher was clearly infatuated with her, more than he’s ever wanted to let on.”

“Then why have her killed? Because let’s not even pretend that it wasn’t your brother or Parris.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “For the only reason women always go missing, control.”

I scoff and shake my head as I stare at the ground.

“And he knew about Corwin the whole fucking time, what the fuck is up with that?”

A thunderous look crosses Ronan’s face as he shakes his head.

“I can’t let that go. I…”

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