Page 59 of Make Them Cry
I click another file.
“I know it’s stupid, but sometimes I think the trolls are right. Maybe Iamtoo much. Too loud. Too visible.”
The screen swims.
It’s all there. My doubts, my private thoughts, my rawest confessions.
The recordings I made forhealing. The things I said when I thought I was safe.
And now they’re on a USB labeled with the same tag as the stalker forum.
I rip the drive out so fast the port sparks. My pulse is hammering.
My hands shake as I jam it into my pocket. I’m halfway out of my chair before I realize Gage is standing in the doorway.
He looks concerned. “River? You okay?”
I shake my head. “No. I—” My voice cracks. “Someone planted something in my drawer.”
He frowns, immediately stepping closer. “What do you mean planted?”
I swallow. My throat is raw. “A USB. With… recordings.”
“Recordings of what?”
“Of me.”
The color drains from his face. “What kind of recordings?”
I whisper it, because I can’t say it any louder. “Therapy sessions.”
Something in him snaps. His eyes darken, jaw flexing tight enough to crack.
For the first time since I’ve known him, he doesn’t look calm. He looksdangerous.
“Who has access to your desk?” he asks, voice low and sharp.
“I—I don’t know. Cleaning staff, probably. You. Maybe Tasha, if she borrowed something?—”
He cuts me off. “River, nobodyborrowsa USB and hides it in your drawer.”
I flinch. “I didn’t say she did.”
He curses under his breath and starts pacing, hand in his hair. I’ve never seen him lose composure like this.
“Okay,” he says finally, trying to reel himself in. “You didn’t plug it in, did you?”
“Gage…”
His head snaps up. “Youdid.”
I nod helplessly. “It looked like a normal drive!”
He closes his eyes like he’s praying for patience. “You could’ve triggered a beacon, River. Whoever planted that knows you found it now.”
The room feels smaller. My chest feels tighter.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper.
