Unease pulses through my veins, and I search the blueprint for the entrance of this secret basement before finding something built into the butler’s pantry.
Without skipping a beat, I shove the blueprints back into the filing cabinet before slipping out of the office and leaving it exactly how I found it. Once I’m in the kitchen, I make my way into the private butler’s pantry, and at first glance, everything looks as it should. There’s no obvious door with a sign above it reading secret basement entrance here. There’s nothing at all to suggest that anything is out of order. Only as I start to look at the cabinetry a little closer, I find seams within the framework that look out of place, and as I fiddle around, pushing and pulling, the cabinetry falls back, revealing the entrance to the basement—a basement I can assure you that Mae has no fucking idea even exists.
A winding metal stairwell leads down into darkness, and I stand at the top for just a moment, listening for any signs of life down there, anything to suggest that Elias might be hiding out under our very noses, but I come up blank. That doesn’t stop me from pulling my gun, though.
I hold it out before me, ready to squeeze the trigger at a moment’s notice as I slowly enter the basement, taking careful steps with nothing but the light from a small flashlight. When I find an overhanging string at the bottom, I pull on it, and a dull, yellow light fills the room. What I see makes my stomach crawl.
Cages upon cages line the wall, too big to house animals, and fitted with chains. Old bloodstains coat the ground. And the smell . . . It’s the smell of death.
A small table sits in the center of the basement, and as I look over it, I find image after image of Harper, spanning years of her life, even when she was a child, which was years before they came into our lives. But they’re not the kind of photos Mae would have had lying around; they’re the kind of photos taken from bedroom windows, taken from a distance at parks, or at the mall with her friends, and I realize that Mae wasn’t the one who came barging into our lives. It was the other way around.
Elias constructed this. He’s been planning every step since Harper was just a girl, bringing Mae into his home and marrying her to gain access to her daughter. It’s fucking sickening.
No wonder he won’t give up. He’s put too many years into this, too much work, too much time spent dealing with Mae for the grand prize of claiming her daughter.
He needs to be stopped.
He needs to be put in the fucking ground.
Making my way deeper into the basement, I turn the corner and come to a startling stop near a dirty bed with chains cuffed to the headboard. Beside it is a toilet and a vanity as well as a small chest of drawers with a mirror mounted on top, and damn it, none of this shit looks brand-new. It’s all been well used.
Just how many women has Elias had down here? Just how many lives has he taken?
Seeing something on the bed, I walk over to it, my chest aching as I take in the old bloodstains on the sheets. My gaze settles on the object in the middle of the bed, and I use the tip of my gun to flip it over, only to find the very mask that has haunted Harper’s dreams.
“Fuck,” I grit.
My stomach clenches with unease, and I hold back vomit.
My brother has always been a monster, but I never realized it could have possibly gone this far. I guess money buys power, and when you have that kind of power, nothing can stand in your way.
Trying to ignore the nausea growing in the pit of my stomach, I use my phone and start taking photos, documenting every last inch of the basement, and as I finally approach the stairs to leave, I realize that there’s no way out of this for him.
Jail time isn’t going to be nearly enough to pay for the crimes he’s committed in this room, the crimes he still plans to commit. I have to end his miserable life, and when I do, the world will be a better fucking place. I just hope that I don’t lose Harper before I get the chance.
27
HARPER-RAYN
Awide smile stretches across my face as I sit front row at the Izabelle Grace Winter Runway Show with Knight right by my side. Both Ace and Diesel are here as well, pretending that they’re here to make sure I can make it through the night without being killed by Knight’s psycho brother, but really, they’re here for Izzy.
The way they’re both infatuated with her is insane. She’s the apple of their eye, and from what I’ve heard from Knight, the boys fighting over a girl is a common occurrence. Only problem is, it usually disappears faster than it started, but this one seems to be sticking around.
Every seat around the runway is filled with A-list celebrities, other big-name designers, and stylists. I don’t doubt that this show is about to turn Izzy from a well-known local boutique into a universal name, her designs splashed across the front of every major fashion magazine.
The music pumps as the models strut down the runway, one by one, highlighting the incredible winter line Izzy worked her ass off to put together. Every hour she spent agonizing over her designs paid off the moment the very first model walked out onto the stage with the spotlight shining down on her, and I’ve never been so proud of Izzy.
This is her moment, and I hope like fuck that she’s standing backstage, soaking in every damn second of this. Runway shows are nothing new to her. She’s put one on nearly every season for the past few years, but it’s never drawn this type of A-list crowd. It’s the best type of insanity.
“Whoa,” Ace says from my other side. “She created all of these?”
“From scratch,” I tell him, watching as his eyes widen, more than impressed, and honestly, I fucking love it. I’ve always been proud of her, but seeing that same pride and adoration reflected in his eyes is amazing. But it’s Diesel’s stare that really gets me.
He watches each model strut down the walkway with his jaw literally hanging open. I’m sure he’s attended his fair share of events like this as protection detail for models, designers, or celebrity guests, but I can guarantee he’s never sat front row at a show like this. His eyes occasionally dart across the runway to the Chiefs’ star football player, who is here with his wife, and I can tell he’s utterly starstruck.
All three of the guys are gaping. While I’m sure they had an idea of what they were about to walk into tonight, there’s no doubt that their minds have been blown.
The show doesn’t take long, twenty minutes tops, before each model strides out in a single-file line for the grand finale. Izzy steps out last to a standing ovation, and obviously Ace and Diesel are cheering the loudest.
