Page 80 of Property of Fox

“Fox did that?” Hallie asks.

“Sure did. He already had it bad for Brea. You could see it from a mile away.”

I nearly choke on a piece of pancake, my cheeks blazing hot. “I wouldn’t say that,” I mumble, my voice barely rising above a whisper.

“Brea, please,” Keira rolls her eyes at me. “The guy was practically drooling over you. It was like watching a puppy try to get attention from its owner. Are you telling me you didn’t notice?”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, feeling more exposed than ever under their scrutiny. “Okay, maybe there was some?—”

“Don’t you dare try to downplay it, B.”

“I’m not.”

“Leave it to my girl to snag her a real-life book boyfriend. Any of these guys single?”

Hallie’s chatter continues, something about her upcoming wedding, but I’m only catching snippets as unease slithers through me again. A gnawing sensation deep within my stomach keeps indicating something isn't quite right with Fox.

“Excuse me,” I say abruptly, setting down my fork and plate onto the coffee table before shoving up from the couch.

“You okay?” Keira asks. Her keen eyes watching me closely.

“Yeah, just going to go grab my phone.”

I make my way down the hallway, the sounds of laughter fading behind me while uncertainty rushes ahead like a dark cloud. Once back in Fox’s room, I spot my phone on the nightstand. A cord plugged into it from a wall charger. Fox’s doing because as soon as he loved me senseless, I crashed hard until I woke up this morning. I grab it from its spot, disconnecting the cord in the process, and start to scroll through my notifications. No texts or calls from Fox. I type out a text and hit send.

Where did you go?

I lean against the edge of the nightstand, biting my lip as I stare at my phone screen, willing it to light up with a response. The room feels too quiet, filled only with echoes of laughter from Hallie and Keira. My heart races in this bubble of anticipation mingled with anxiety.

Just when I'm debating whether it's worth heading back out there or crumbling into an anxious ball right here amongst his rumpled sheets and lingering scent, my phone vibrates violently in my hand.

My breath catches in surprise as I snatch it up within seconds: *Fox* flashes across the screen. I accept the call, dragging my phone up to my ear.

“Where are you? I didn’t like waking up alone this morning.”

I expect his voice to float through the line like cool summer breeze, but instead, a low and deep rumble answers. My heart sinks as I realize it’s not Fox.

“Your little boyfriend won’t be warming your bed anytime soon.” The tone is gravelly and terrifyingly familiar.

“Tank,” I murmur.

The name hangs in the air like a dark omen, my heart racing as panic grips me. "Why do you have Fox’s phone?" I demand, forcing a steadiness into my voice that I don't feel. “Where is he?”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Brea. The two of us have more important things to talk about, don’t we?” Tank sneers, and I can practically picture him lounging back with a wicked smile curling his lips. My heart pounds louder as dread wraps around me, constricting my chest.

“If you’ve done anything to Fox?—”

“He’s still alive, for now,” he taunts me. “See for yourself.” A chime comes through the receiver. I pull away the phone, opening my messages as a horrifying image pops up on the screen. Fox’s head is hanging low against his chest. He’s chained to a chair. His shirt covered with blood.

I gasp audibly. “No!” It escapes as more prayer than protest.

“Worried, are you?” Tank chuckles darkly. “You should be. You see, Fox thought he could play hero for you.”

“Just let him go,” I plea.

“So naive. Just like your mother.” The mention of my mother sends a chill right through me. “What do you want?” I demand, my voice shaking. I can’t let him see how scared I am. Not now.

“Simple. A trade. You for him. You’re going to need to come alone if you want to see him again.” There’s a sinister pleasure in his voice, as if he’s savoring my unraveling. “If you show up with any of his friends with you, he dies. Simple as that.”

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