Page 64 of Property of Fox

She laughs softly, a sound that sends warmth flooding through me. It’s an enchanting melody, and I revel in the way her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink at my words. “Is it just me or is the room kind of foggy?”

I gesture towards the bathroom door where mist creeps beneath it like wraiths in the night. The shower had been running the entire time. “At least we know the water is hot.”

“Shall we take that shower?” I suggest, my voice low and playful as a devilish grin spreads across my face.

“Come on, firefly. Let’s get you cleaned up properly this time.”

But just as I'm about to pull her up and make our way toward the steamy sanctuary awaiting us in the bathroom, the shrill trill of a ringtone slices through our intimate bubble.

“Shit, that’s my phone. Do you see it?”

Shifting the sheets around the bed, it’s nowhere to be found, which is not unexpected considering what we’d just done in said bed. She scrambles off the bed, kneeling next to it, as she frantically searches the floor. “Found it.” Brea pulls out her phone and immediately answers it.

“Keira, is everything okay?”

The moment her voice turns frantic, the lightheartedness vanishes from the room. I can hear Keira's urgent words echoing through Brea’s phone, a muffled symphony of panic that makes my gut twist into a knot. I exchange glances with Brea, concern etches itself across her brow as she nods slowly, absorbing whatever is being said.

"Calm down! Just take a breath," she urges softly but firmly as if trying to pull Keira back from the brink of hysteria. “You’re talking so fast. I can’t understand you.”

And that's when it happens, the way Brea goes still catches my attention more than any roaring engine ever could.

“What do you mean you think someone’s in the house?”

My heart drops as Brea's voice trembles on the line. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the phone tighter, her gaze darting around the room as if she expects to see intruders lurking.

“Brea, what’s happening?” I ask, trying to keep my tone steady, but it comes out strained, edged with anxiety. I lean closer, straining to catch every word Keira is saying.

“Tell her to get out. Now.” The urgency in my voice takes me by surprise. I’m not one for panic, but this situation screams trouble.

“Keira! Listen to Fox!” Brea exclaims into the phone, worry etched across her features. “Get out of the house! You have to?—”

A loud crash punctuates her command, and we both freeze at the sound echoing from Kiera’s end. It’s unmistakable— something heavy has fallen or been knocked over. Brea's face pales further, and instinct kicks in.

“Keira, get out of the house. We’re coming! Keira? Keira, are you there?” Brea pulls her phone away from her face. “Keira?” Fear crosses her face when she checks her phone again. The call disconnected.

BREA

Five minutesafter Keira’s call, Fox and I are dressed and on the road towards my place. I try to call her over and over again, but she doesn’t pick it. It goes straight to voicemail.

“Try her again,” Fox declares. His eyes on the road as he smashes the gas pedal harder.

"Come on," I mutter again, desperately pressing Keira’s number into my phone's screen yet another time. “Pick up, Keira!” The phone cuts to voicemail.

The engine roars beneath us, and I clutch my phone so tightly that my knuckles turn white. Each unanswered ring reverberates through me, echoing not just with worry but also with guilt. “This is all my fault,” I mumble to myself as if repeating it could somehow change what’s happening.

Fox glances over briefly before refocusing on the road ahead.

“Stop saying that.” Fox's voice cuts through the storm brewing inside me. “It’s not your fault.”

If he only knew how false that statement truly is. Guilt eats at me with each mile closer we get to the house. Has Tank found us? We have been so careful.

The streetlights flicker as we round the corner toward my place, and I can’t shake the dread that clings to me like a second skin. The old house looms in the distance. Fox doesn’t slow down. He barrels up the driveway, tires screeching against gravel.

“Stay in the truck,” he orders me. “Move into the driver’s seat and keep the engine running. If I don’t come out, leave and go straight to the cops. Do not stop for anything.”

“Fuck that, I’m not staying here.”

“Brea, we don’t know who or how many people are in the house. I can’t protect you and get to Keira by myself. Please, just fucking listen to me.”

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