I just had to figure out the right time to tell her.
I was about to get that chance.
32
JAGG
Shadows from the almost-full moon danced along the rutted dirt road that led to Sunny’s cabin. The air was warm, pungent with the smell of river water as we neared her drive. The winds had picked up. The environment was primed for wildfires.
I thought of Sunny making the drive daily, or at the very least, multiple times a week. Alone. Sunny truly lived “in the sticks.” While her dad owned multiple housing tracts and apartment complexes in the surrounding towns, she chose to live out in the middle of nowhere. Away from people, society.
Away from danger.
There was no doubt Sunny was a loner. Her family was her dogs, her home, her sanctuary. Her safe place.
The thought didn’t only concern me, it terrified me. I didn’t like her so far away from civilization and first responders.
So far away from me.
We pulled into the driveway, the headlights bouncing off the trees until pooling onto the A-frame cabin.
My first indication that something was off was when I noticed the picnic table had been moved from where it sat earlier that morning.
I saw it immediately.
WITCH,in bold black letters, in spray paint.
I looked at Sunny just as realization struck her like a lightning bolt. Her breath caught, her body jolting forward.
She launched out of the Jeep before I could stop her.
“Sunny!” I slammed the brakes, threw it into park, grabbed my Glock and jumped out.
She was already running, gun drawn—that I hadn’t even noticed she’d had—cutting across the yard in a dead sprint, fury and panic turning her into something wild.
My sights flicked from tree line to shadows, gun raised, every instinct on high alert. The porch came into view—and with it, destruction.
Flower pots shattered. Shrubs slashed. The screened windows were ripped open like animal claw marks. More graffiti, harsher now. Cruder.
Bitch. Whore. Slut. Cunt.
A pentagram was splashed across the front door in blood-red paint.
“No.” I grabbed the back of her shirt, yanking her behind me before she could bust through.
The smell hit me before the mess did—paint. The living room was unrecognizable. Furniture gutted, cushions slashed open like organs. Her walls were defaced with spray paint. Her pictures, dishes, were shattered.WITCHin large, block letters, had been sprayed across the fireplace. Her belongings pulverized. Her world, violated.
Her sanctuary. Her home.
She tore past me, blind with panic. “My dogs, Jagg! My dogs, where are they?” Tears glimmered in her eyes, but itwas the panic that gutted me. I reached for her, pulled the gun from her trembling hands and set it aside.
“Sunny. Look at me. Where were they when you left?”
She whipped her head around, chest heaving. “Inside. I always leave them in the house when I’m gone.” She jogged out the back door, onto the deck, which was in the same shape as the front.
“Athena!”Sunny cupped her hands and yelled, the panicked tone sending a chill up my spine.“Theeeena!Tango! Max!”
I spun on my heel at the pop of the screen door behind me, gun raised, finger over the trigger. Three furry, snarling masses shot like a cannon through the dark living room, laser focused on me.
