Page 126 of Wolf

After closing the door behind me, I step down the hall. The kitchen is empty when I glance inside.

The first evidence of trouble I find is in the dining room where a chair rests on its side beside a broken dish and the remains of dinner—steak and potatoes by the looks of it.

“Mama?” I gasp when I pass the table and spy her lying face down on the floor.

With her face turned toward me, I’m able to see her wide, vacant eyes. Her back, covered in blood, doesn't move and I know without touching her that she’s dead.

When I step into the living room, I find Daddy tied up in a chair with duct tape over his mouth. He meets my gaze with wide eyes and struggles against the rope binding his arms and legs to the chair as Hand steps around the corner behind him.

“Thought for a minute there you weren’t gonna show,” Hand says, and I glance at the clock on the mantle behind him.

Twenty minutes to spare, thank God.

“Mercy?” I ask.

Shrugging, he points to the closet. “Left her where I found her. Your parents are into some sick shit.”

I whip around to Daddy, but he drops his chin, refusing to meet my eyes.

Liar. I want to rage at him for his actions but now is not the time.

“I’m here. Let her go,” I say but Hand shakes his head.

“Not so fast, little bitch. We ain’t done here yet.”

“You said—“

“I said you had one hour. Now shut the fuck up and call your boyfriend,” he barks.

I’m guessing now is not the time to argue semantics. Wolf has never been my boyfriend and if I had to describe our relationship now it wouldn’t bedating.

It feels like too much has passed between us for it to be something as simple as that.

“I don’t have his number,” I say instead, ignoring the irony. I mean, I miscarried the man’s baby and I have no way of contacting him.

His brows furrow but he doesn’t comment beyond, “Gimme your phone.”

“I don’t have a phone either,” I snap.

His eyes widen and then narrow as he pulls out his phone, mumbling, “Crazy bitch.”

Despite the calm I’m trying to portray, I’m terrified and it shows with every trembling limb I can’t wrestle into control.

I’m not prepared for his fist coming at my face which is why I get the full impact and stumble back, grabbing my cheek.

Tears fill my eyes as he points the phone at me and says, “Smile.”

His chuckle is lost on me though as the phone clicks and he fiddles with it once more.

Apparently satisfied, he shoves the phone into his pocket and pulls a gun from the back of his jeans.

Waving it at the chair opposite Daddy he says, “Sit.”

Raising my chin, I say, “I want to see Mercy.”

With a grunt, he says, “Fine.”

Cautiously, I step around him to the closet and open the door. Inside, Mercy looks up, blinking against the light. Her eyes widen when she sees me, but they melt into terror as Hand steps into my back.

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