Page 90 of Twisted Redemption

My phone goes off. I’m tempted to ignore it, but it continues vibrating in my pocket, in the specific pattern I set for one thing and one thing only.

Fuck.

Yanking my phone out of my pocket, I check the screen. My blood runs cold at the notification.

Perimeter breached: Alexander Hendricks

“Alex is in trouble.” I grab Brooke, pulling her to her feet and up the stairs. “Where’s your gun?”

“My bedroom closet. What do you mean Alex is in trouble?” Her voice is panicked.

In her room, I rip open her closet doors, searching for the case. It’s on the top shelf. Grabbing it, I throw it on the bed. “You remember how to use it?”

Brooke frowns. “Of course. It’s practically muscle memory.” Her voice doesn’t match the confidence of her words.

Giving myself a split second, I run a hand through her hair. All I want is to pull her into my arms and tell her everything is going to be okay. But there’s no time.

“I need you to take it and get into the master bathroom. Lock the bedroom door, and then lock the bathroom door too. Don’t let anyone in except me. And be prepared to shoot.”

“What? Blaze, what the hell—”

“I don’t know what’s going on at Alex’s. There’s no way I’m bringing you. But it could be a distraction so David can get you by himself. I need to go make sure Alex is safe. And I need you to protect yourself.”

I watch as the expression on her face changes from one of fear to one of hardened determination. That’s my girl.

“Keep your phone on you. Call me the second you think you’re in danger. Understood?”

She nods, hesitating. Then, “Blaze, I—” She bites her lip.

“I know, Daisy. I know.”

And then I’m sprinting through the house and into the garage, practically jumping into my car, ignoring the hollow feeling in my chest at leaving Brooke all alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

BROOKE

I SINK ONTO the bathroom floor, staring at the locked door. Angel curls up next to me, nudging my leg with her head. I’m glad she followed me in here, because I was too scared to chase her through the house and make sure she was in here with me.

How long has it been? Ten minutes? Twenty? It feels like I’ve been pacing the bathroom for an eternity.

I check my phone. Five minutes.

How the hell has it only been five minutes?!

I should stay on my feet. Easier to move.

With a sigh, I climb back up to a standing position, gripping my gun. It’s been over a year since I last shot it, but it doesn’t feel unfamiliar in my hands. Blaze made sure I was completely comfortable with it.

On my eighteenth birthday, he took me gun shopping. He claimed it was important that I knew how to defend myself for the times there was no one there to keep me safe.

I was nervous at first. Francis never let me touch his guns, always claiming that they were too dangerous, and it led to an irrational fear of the things. But Blaze took that fear and helped me dismantle it little by little. He taught me how to take my gun apart, how to clean it, and of course how to shoot it.

For a while, he used to take me out shooting once a week. It devolved to once a month once I got more comfortable. But of course, all of that stopped when I cut him off.

Afterward, I spent a lot of time regretting my decision. I missed our movie nights, our random hangouts, our joking and banter. I missed him. But I was too scared that David was right—that no one else would want me. That I’d end up alone and unloved for forever.

And now that I’ve finally realized he’s wrong, I might lose the people who actually do love me.

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