Page 60 of Puck Struck
I grab onto the wall, all the air sucked from my chest when I open that one single photo.
It's Logan's house. Taken from across the street.Today.
James isn't just watching me anymore.
He's watching all of us.
SEVENTEEN
logan
My stomach dropslike a brick falling off the side of a building as I stare at the photo on Cam's phone. My house. My fucking house. The house we're standing in right now, where Tessa and Ethan live. Where they sleep.
This psychopath has to be fucking stopped.
"When was this taken?" I ask, voice tight with barely contained rage.
"Today." Cam’s eyes widen. "Look at the timestamp."
Three hours ago. While we were at practice. While Ethan was at school. It's a clear day shot, taken from across the street, probably from a parked car. The dinosaur-shaped wind chime Tessa hung last spring is visible on the porch.
The picture isn’t just a threat. It's a message.
I stalk to the front window, scanning the street for unfamiliar cars, for anyone watching. The quiet suburban scene looks normal, peaceful even. But now I know better.
Cam stands frozen, guilt etched into his features, as I pull the blinds closed in the living room.
"Logan, I'm sorry. I never meant to?—"
"Stop," I cut him off, pushing back my hair. "This isn't on you. This is on him."
Cam averts his gaze, but not before I catch the raw pain in his eyes. "I should go. It's not safe for your family if I'm here."
"You're not going anywhere." The words come out harsher than I intended.
"Logan, please. Let me go."
"No." I step closer, taking him by the arms, unable to shake off the charge of electricity that fizzles my fingertips. "That's exactly what he wants. To isolate you. To make you think you're toxic. That you have to face him alone." I grit my teeth. "Well, fuck that."
Something shifts in Cam's expression. Surprise, maybe. Or relief. I can't tell.
"We need a plan," I say. "A real one, not one of me storming over there half-cocked, which is exactly what I really want to do."
"What kind of plan?"
"The kind that puts this asshole away for good."
Cam's phone buzzes again. We both freeze, eyes locked on it like it might explode.
"It's him," Cam whispers.
"Read the message."
"What if he?—?"
"We need to know what he wants. Read the fucking thing." I slide in close, watching over his shoulder as he clicks on the text.
Change of plans. Unexpected business deal in Chicago requires my immediate attention. Lucky you.
