Mine.
Mine.
He sees me as his.
I don’t know why it surprises me, but it does.
I figured once I’d blocked him, he’d move on, but he’s clearly a hell of a lot more unhinged than I had him pegged for.
And it looks like he’s chosen me as his target for that insanity.
I check the lock on the window, sighing in relief when it doesn’t open. But the action only makes me move closer towards it, and it’s then that I realize I can’tonlysee the words written because of the dirt, but it seems like he used something to write it. It’s barely visible, an almost translucent liquid and I squint, my mind reeling as I think about what it could possibly be.
And then it hits me.
I stumble back, a gasp leaving my lips as I stare at the window in horror. There’s no way. No way he did what I think he did, did he?
What am I saying?
Of course, that would be something he would do.
He… he watched me. Not only that, but he got himself off at the same time.
And used the evidence of his release to write on my goddamn window.
I need to get out of here.
I storm over and fling the curtain closed, as though I can will it to not be there if I can’t see it before slowly backing away and leaving the bedroom. I can’t… I just can’t be in there right now.
I need to leave.
I all but run to the cottage, needing to feel the safety that I’ve always felt when I’m with my brothers and his best friends.
They’re my safety net—they always have been.
While most days I hate their overprotective nature and wish they would tone it down a little, I need it today. Not that I’m going to tell them what’s going on, because I know without a doubt that they’d end up doing something ridiculous like putting me on lockdown, but I just need to be around them knowing that whoever this mystery guy is, he can’t get to me while I’m with them.
I go to open the door to their cottage, but to my surprise, it’s locked for the first time in literally forever and with the panic still bubbling up inside me, I do the last thing I should probably do.
I bang on the door, not stopping until it swings open to show Noah’s concerned face.
“What’s wrong?”
TWELVE
GRACIE
Fuck.
Noah all but drags me into the hall, a frown on his face as he looks outside before closing the door and crossing his arms across his chest.
“Gracie,” he warns.
Yeah, I’m not getting out of this.
“What?” I ask, hoping my face looks the picture of innocence.
He raises one brow, not relaxing his stance in the slightest. “What. Happened,” he asks through clenched teeth.
