Page 72 of Revenge (Elite of Elmwood 3)

Chapter Nineteen

Due to the holiday, we had a short week at the Academy, so I didn’t feel terrible about skipping classes today. Schoolwork tended to be light around holidays. I was definitely looking forward to a long weekend away from all the crap at school, more so because Brock would be staying with us through Thanksgiving.

We didn’t rush home right away. As requested, Brock just drove, taking us outside the city limits where the view became something from a postcard. Rolling mountains covered in vibrant evergreens, maples, and oaks. He circled the silver lake as I stared at the smooth surface of the water reflecting the clear skies above. It was a stunning view and too beautiful of a day to waste on crappy feelings and sad, confusing situations.

Why couldn’t I just have a normal day, a picnic by a breathtaking lake with a gorgeous boy? I’d even take just an autumn stroll. Was it too much to want an ordinary date with my boyfriend without tears, knives, or crazy enemies with vendettas?

Brock didn’t demand anything from me. He let me stew in my head, allowing me to sort through my tangled emotions. We both had a lot on our minds, and there was something calming about being in each other’s company without saying a word.

Maybe being able to do that with him and not feeling the need to fill the void with mindless chatter said something about our relationship.

When we arrived home a few hours later, the house was empty, thankfully. Even Elise must have been out running errands, probably prepping for Thanksgiving dinner. We still had more than an hour before school ended, but then there was football and cheer practice.

What could Brock and I do with the house all to ourselves?

A few things came to mind.

The shower turned on in the joined bathroom as I plopped down belly first on the bed. He’d only been staying with us for a few days, and already the room smelled like him. I buried my face into the pillow and inhaled, letting my eyes fall close while I listened to the water beat against the shower tile.

A buzzing vibrated on the table, interrupting my few minutes of rest. I opened my eyes and stared at the phone Brock left charging on the nightstand.

I shouldn’t. I had no reason to check his phone, and yet, once the thought entered my head, I couldn’t seem to let it go. Not even my naked boyfriend in the shower could tempt me.

Rationalizations were too easy to make. What if something happened at school? What if Carter had done something? Hurt Ainsley? Or Kenna? I mean, I wasn’t the type of girlfriend who snooped on her boyfriend’s phone, but this wasn’t spying. This could be important.

It vibrated again, the screen lighting up.

Fuck it.

Stretching out my arm, I plucked his phone off the table, staring down at the message preview on the lock screen. It wasn’t from a number in his contacts, yet the short message made my stomach drop.

I’m not done with you yet. Not until I destroy you.

I quickly swiped at the message, my fingers fumbling to key in the password. A knot formed in my stomach, growing bigger in the few seconds it took for the phone to unlock and the message to pop up on the screen.

What the fuck?!

A string of texts between this mystery person and Brock sprawled over the screen. I ran through the message, skimming the text. All of them were pretty much the same bullshit threats.I’ll kill and your little dogs too. I’m going to tear your gf up inside. You won’t want her when I’m done.

From the tone of the message and the fact they continually mentioned me in some grotesque act, it was easy to deduce who was behind the other phone.

“What a dick,” I mumbled. Carter was worse than a dick, but my brain was too fried to come up with something cruel and appropriate enough to call this jackass. I used to pride myself on being creative and snarky. Sarcasm was my superpower. But Carter had found a way to suck the artistic bitchiness right out of me.

Brock had mentioned that Carter was sending him texts. He had more or less brushed it off, but what I saw created a storm of terror and fury within me.

I came across a picture, and my heart stopped.

It was of me sleeping in my bed at the Pattersons’. Carter had pulled off the covers before snapping a picture of me in just an oversized tee, his hand on my upper thigh. Under the picture was a text that chilled my blood. The things I did to her while she slept under my roof.

A shudder of revulsion trembled through me at the thought of Carter touching me without me knowing, in my sleep, the most vulnerable state a person could be in. Sicko. To think of Carter sneaking into my room and snapping pictures of me gave me the worst case of creeps ever.

I thought I might be sick.

The worse thing I could do was keep scrolling, but that was exactly what I did. To think of Carter tormenting Brock with all these sexual and graphic texts nearly sent me over the edge. I had to restrain myself from shooting back a million texts of my own, calling him out on every lie.

Another text came through, and my pulse raced. I scrolled back to the beginning, my eyes reading the new text.

Do you think she would like this?

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