He then nods and goes back to eating his food. “Always expect the unexpected. That way no one will catch you by surprise.”
That’s when my phone buzzes in my pocket again. As I eat, I can feel it vibrating over and over again. I can’t handle reading anymore of their messages, so I focus on the way my brother talks with his hands, on the way he’s trying to distract me from what happened with an entertaining story. I owe this brother of mine everything. Because of him I have a roof over my head, warm food in my belly, and a job I’m sure I’m going to love. This is more than I thought I would ever have and I can’t believe how casual he is about it.
Bear’s presence at his side is just icing on the cake. He’s quiet, watchful, and protective, like a gentle giant. Whichever woman is lucky enough to end up with him will be blessed beyond measure.
Chapter 5
Bear
When we make it back to our apartment, I sense that something is wrong. I can smell a strange chemical scent. I hesitate at the door, but Rick shoots me a weird look and brushes past me. Natalie follows, and she makes it halfway across the living room before I register what’s off.
The door wasn’t locked. We always lock the fuckin’ door. It’s basic safety.
“Stop,” I say, my voice louder and more alarmed than I mean it to.
They both freeze. Rick turns first, his expression serious. Natalie doesn’t move at all. She just looks at me. Her eyes are wide and alarmed.
“What is it?” Rick asks.
“Someone’s been in our apartment,” I growl. “The door wasn’t locked.”
Rick immediately pulls out the handgun he keeps in a holster at the small of his back and holds it pointing straight up in the ready position.
He hisses to Natalie, “Stay behind us. If anything pops off, get the hell outta here.”
“I’ll call the police,” she says.
“Don’t. Not just yet, it might be nothing,” I answer. No point in getting the cops involved if it’s just something simple like Rick forgetting to lock the door this morning.
I slowly scan the room for anything that seems off. I move towards the hallway.
I curse under my breath because both bedroom doors are open and I know for a fact mine was shut. I make a quick motion to Rick, pointing to my eyes and then towards the doors. I want to look and see if anyone is still here.
My room’s been ransacked. Drawers are standing open, and my stuff is strewn about. Nothing appears to be missing. Natalie’s door is next. I stop short of the threshold.
The wall opposite her bed is covered in thick red marker. Not drawings—writing. Lines upon lines of it, scrawled at different heights and angles, overlapping in places as if whoever wrote them couldn’t stop. The words crawl across the paint in uneven, aggressive strokes, some pressed so hard the marker has bled and pooled.
Biblical phrases. Or fragments of them.
Suffer little children…
Spare the rod…
The Lord chastens those He loves…
Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child…
Some are written over and over again, the letters growing larger, more distorted each time. Others are crossed out violently, only to be rewritten beside them, darker and heavier. A few lines trail downward, smeared by a hand dragged through wet ink, like the words themselves are bleeding.
There’s no order to it, no passage quoted cleanly. Just punishment, obedience and suffering.
I can’t make sense of it, can’t figure out what message the intruder meant to leave behind—only that this wasn’t random vandalism. This was meant to be seen.
Understood.
I hear Natalie gasp and turn to see her hands fly to cover her mouth as she stares at this cryptic message someone has left for her. This wasn’t random. What isn’t she telling us? Me and Rick bought her story about the foster parents, but is she running from an abusive ex?
Rick swears, “What the fuck is that?”
