Page 105 of Ramsay

Watching him walk off with her cradled in his arms, I stare with bemusement before getting into his car and driving away. But at the intersection, I hesitate and grab my phone.

There’s still no word from Dixie and I’m worried. So, I turn in the direction of the abandoned house and hope she’s there—alone.

On the way, I text Bone so at least someone knows where to search for my body should this go sour. I know this is all kinds of stupid, but I’m worried, and frankly, she’s the only one I would have asked to do something like this with me.

Bone’s up the Sinners asses, and I’m on the fence about Matt. Obviously, I can’t trust the Sinners, and Sabrina and her lemmings are out. So, it’s just me and a really creepy fucking house.

When I pull up, I spy a soft glow through the window and hoping it’s her, I confirm that the top floor is thankfully dark.

Stepping through the weeds in the damn boots is tricky, but I only trip once until the wood gives out as I wobble up the stairs, and my ankle sinks through the floor.

Crying out, I brace myself against the wall, which does nothing for my perpetually sprained wrist. “Fuck!”

After wrenching on my ankle a few times, I finally pull my foot free and slink through the doorway.

The space is dimly lit by the flashlight shining toward the ceiling and with a relieved chuckle, I stop before Dixie lying on the blowup mattress and say, “Dixie! Bitch you had me so…”

But the words dry up when she comes fully into view because from the side, she may look like she’s lounging casually, but her wide-eyed stare is blank and glassy, and her fucking head is resting on her shoulders.

I can only stare in disbelief, noting the thin trickle of blood staining her bright pink hair, before a sob escapes me, and I turn to go, hitting a hard male chest when I do.

Immediately I struggle, my heart in my throat and like a wild animal, I fight to break free, but he tightens his hold with every flailing limb before barking. “Fuck, Willow, hold still.”

“Oliver,” I sob, dropping in his arms and clutching him desperately.

His grip tightens as my legs give out and I fall to the floor before he catches me up and cradles me to his chest.

“Fuck,” he whispers, turning away from the macabre sight of Dixie’s lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.

Ramsay stands behind him with a grim expression, and after giving me a cursory look, he mutters, “Jesus. Take her outside.”

Oliver nods and carries me through the threshold and out into the brisk air, before opening the door to Ramsay’s SUV. I expect him to drop me unceremoniously inside, but instead he gets in and hugs me to him.

For a while, we sit like that, with him stroking my back as I numbly lean against his shoulder, fighting back the images I’ll never be able to scrub from my brain.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver says quietly but I don’t ask why. I don’t care.

Eventually, Ramsay emerges, his face pale as he eyes me cautiously and says, “We can’t be found here. I’m going to make an anonymous call after we leave.”

Oliver nods, his chin brushing my forehead as Ramsay says gruffly, “Willow, give me the keys.”

But I don’t hear him, because my mind is still back in that house with my friend, who didn’t deserve to die, and I stare at him blankly.

“Willow?” he says, before shoving his hand down my skirt.

I grab his wrist and he pulls back with my keys in his hand. Searching his eyes, I whisper, “Was there a rabbit’s foot?”

Ramsay’s eyes turn glacial, and Oliver stiffens below me before he slowly nods. I drop back to Oliver’s chest with a sob because this is all my fucking fault. Whoever took her wants me. I can feel it. This was a message for me.

∞∞∞

Later, I roll over and open my eyes before burying my face in the pillow. I’m at Ramsay’s fucking house again. On the heels of that thought, sadness trickles through me because Dixie is dead, and I can’t help but feel I could have stopped it.

Fuck. What am I going to do now? I don’t know but I can’t stay here.

Which is why, I step from the bed and help myself to the shower giving zero fucks about permission as I wash away the events of yesterday.

After, I help myself to more clothes from the dresser and creep down the hall. I fully expect them to be in the kitchen, so I’m surprised when they’re not.

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