Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
That hits me wrong. “Yesterday?” I blink. “That’s—” But the thought slips away as quickly as it came. “I think the boys got into something bigger—maybe a robbery or something with gangs. The question is, why now?”
Jay hums thoughtfully, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he weaves through the traffic, which has slowed to a crawl in the rain. “Why can’t anyone drive in the rain?” His hand slams the horn, and the sound is grating, too loud in the quiet of the car. “Every damn time.”
I glance out the window, the world blurring through the downpour. “What do you think of my theory?”
“It holds up,” Jay says flatly. “But we’ll only catch him if we figure out exactly what they did and why it’s coming back to bite them now.” He flips the turn signal, the clicking unnervingly loud. “You know what I’m wondering?”
“What?”
“What if the killer isn’t in the photo?”
“I assumed he was.”
“You assumed,” Jay repeats, his voice almost amused. “But there’s more names than faces. Ever think maybe we’re barking up the wrong tree?”
The car comes to a stop, and Jay steps out into the rain without another word. His door slams, the sound echoing through my head. I follow him out, but everything feels strange, unreal. The house we’re approaching—abandoned, two stories high—feels suffocating, its presence heavy, wrong.
“Where’s the body?” I call out, but my voice feels distant, like it’s being swallowed by the rain.
“Over here,” Jay says, walking toward the backyard. I try to move, but my steps slow. The wet grass clings to my boots, dragging me down. I glance down, and the boots are gone. In their place, I’m wearing the same black heels from the night Damien proposed.
“What the hell?” Panic rises in my chest.
“You coming?” Jay’s voice sounds far away, distorted.
“Yeah,” I mutter, forcing myself forward. “My foot got stuck.”
Jay reaches the crime scene first, standing over the tarp, waiting. “Sorry, kid,” he says, voice quiet now, but with something darker behind it.
“What are you sorry for?” I ask, finally catching up with him. My hands shake as I kneel and pull back the tarp.
And then I see him. The face—ashen, lifeless. His hazel eyes…gone. Nothing but hollow sockets staring back at me.
“Damien?” My voice is a strangled whisper. I yank the tarp back further, and there it is—his body slashed open, his guts spilling out in a grotesque display. My heart stops.
“Damien!” I scream, my voice breaking as I fall to my knees. I’m shaking, sobbing, the sound torn from my chest. He’s dead.
And then, Jay’s voice breaks through the noise, calm and cold. “Well…I guess now we know he’s not the killer.”
The words hit like ice in my veins. I whip my head around to face Jay, but he’s already walking away, his figure fading into the rain.
I turn back to the body and scream “Damien!”
“Francesca, wake up!” Damien’s voice pierces the fog of my nightmare.
I jolt awake, gasping for air, my heart racing. “Damien—no!”
His hazel eyes, warm and steady, hold my gaze. “I’m right here, Francesca. Look at me,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.
Relief floods me as I reach for him, my fingers trembling as they brush against his skin. “Damien…” I whisper. “You’re alive.”
He frowns, his brow knitting together. “Of course, I am.”
A shaky breath escapes me, and the memory of his lifeless body, his hollow eyes, clutches at my chest. I cling to him, grounding myself in his warmth and his steady heartbeat. “It was horrible… Jay thought you might be the killer.”
A shadow flickers across Damien’s face. “Jay thinks I’m the killer?”
My throat tightens. “It felt so real. The blood…the guts…”
He reaches out, his thumb brushing softly along my cheek. “My precious pet, it was only a dream,” he says, pulling me into a hug.
I bury my face in the crook of his neck, letting his warmth and familiar scent ease the fear. “It just felt so real,” I whisper, my voice still trembling.
He holds me tighter, his fingers tracing gentle circles on my back. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not in this world, not even in your dreams,” he says.
I close my eyes, feeling the tension slowly unravel as his heart beats steadily and strong beneath my cheek. For now, wrapped in his arms, the nightmare fades, leaving only the quiet comfort of his presence.
CHAPTER SIX
Frankie
The next morning, I’m still shaken by the dream and my focus is shot to hell. Every blink brings with it that haunting image of Damien with his eyes stabbed out and his guts spilling out of his lifeless body. Damien held me all night, whispering reassuring words in my ear until I fell asleep in his arms.
“Come on, DeMarco. We’re going on a field trip.” Jay’s wearing one of his shit-eating grins, which means he’s got something.