Page 42 of Flare
So soon after Andrew, she hadn’t expected to feel excited, hopeful, or safe.
Especially safe.
Her thoughts scattered as she parked in front of her cabin and saw her front door ajar.
Emily was a hundred percent sure she’d locked it that morning. She always did—a habit born from years of living in the big city.
A lightning bolt of unease shot through her guts.Maybe Elle sent someone to fix that leaky faucet in the bathroom?
But Elle would’ve texted or called her to give a heads-up.
Oh, God.Emily sat frozen in her car. Her heart began pounding so hard her entire body shook.I should call someone. Maggie. Elle. Dane.
But what if I’m overreacting?
Everyone had assured her that Andrew wouldn’t dare invade another bear shifter clan’s territory.
She’d feel so stupid if she made a big fuss over nothing.
Emily got out of her car and climbed the porch steps with shaky legs. Then she pushed the front door open all the way and peeked inside.
Her living room looked like a war zone. The sofa cushions had been slashed open, stuffing scattered across the floor like artificial snow. The small bookcase lay on its side, torn and crumpled library books piled in a messy heap on the living room rug.
He found me!
“No,” she whispered.“No, no, no.”
As if caught in a nightmare, Emily moved through the cabin, her feet carrying her forward even as her mind screamed at her to run.
The kitchen looked just as bad as the living room. Drawers had been pulled out and emptied onto the floor. The upperbank of cabinets had been pulled entirely away from the wall and leaned haphazardly against the breakfast bar. Shards of shattered dishes and mugs covered the countertops and floor. The refrigerator’s metal sides were savagely scored with claw marks.
Her bedroom was the worst of all. The mattress had been pulled from the bed frame and slashed repeatedly, deep gouges revealing the springs beneath. Her clothes had been yanked from the closet and drawers and flung around the room. The framed photo of her mother that she kept by her bed lay face down on the floor, and the nightstand and dresser had both been tossed around like toys.
Emily kneeled and picked it up. A sob choked her as she saw the glass cracked across Mom’s smiling face.
Numbly, she looked around the room. The backup USB drive she made of Andrew’s files was gone from her nightstand drawer. Of course.
And her bright fuchsia neoprene laptop case was gone, too.
Her eyes darted to her pillow, which had somehow remained on the partially dismembered bed. The air froze in her lungs at the sight of a single long-stemmed red rose lying there.
Andrew’s calling card. Every time they’d argued over wedding arrangements, he would leave a red rose on her pillow afterward.
A reminder of his love, he’d called it.
Panic clawed at her chest.He found me! He knows where I am!
Her hands shook violently as she pulled her phone from her pocket. She nearly dropped it twice before she punched Maggie’s contact.
Each ring felt like an eternity. Emily jittered as she waited for her friend to answer, her eyes darting to every movement of tree branches or birds outside the window.
“Emily? What’s up?” Maggie’s cheerful voice finally said.“You still okay with working the booth at the festival tomorrow?”
“He—he was here,” Emily stammered.“Andrew. He found me. He—he destroyed the cabin. Everything’s torn apart. And he—he left me a rose.”
“Holy shit. Get out of there. Drive over to my place,” Maggie ordered.“I’m calling Dad and Grandma Elle.”
Emily nodded, then realized Maggie couldn’t see her.“Okay,” she whispered, already backing toward the door.
