Pushing open the door, I reach for the light switch, hearing Silas behind me getting himself changed, but once the room is lit up, I freeze.
I’m not sure what I’m looking at. Glass is scattered over the floor, and a huge rock is sitting in the middle of the bed, a piece of paper attached to it with a piece of string.
The window itself is smashed, a giant hole in the middle where the rock must have come through.
“Silas!” I yell, staring at the bed like I could change the scene in front of me.
Who the hell would do this?Whywould they do this?
Silas steps up behind me. I feel his warmth press against my spine, but then his body goes stiff as he sees what I am seeing.
“Stay here,” he orders sternly, pushing me out of the room while he enters, heading for the rock with the note on the bed. He tears off the note and unfolds the paper, eyes moving over whateveris on it.
A muscle in his jaw pops as he continues to stare.
“What is it?” I step closer.
“Don’t,” he flicks his eyes to me.
“Silas, what is it?”
His throat works on a swallow, and he folds the piece of paper up so I can’t see what’s on it.
“Don’t hide it from me,” I tilt my chin up, “I can take it.”
His eyes close, his anger a living, breathing thing that sizzles in the air between us. He holds out the folded piece of paper, waiting for me to take it.
Reaching forward, my hand trembles, but I force myself to take it and unfold the paper.
For a minute, I’m not sure what the hell I’m even seeing. The photo is black and white, a little grainy, but then I recognize the two people in it. It’s Silas and me, back in the tack room at the stables. I’m completely naked, my face on full display while Silas is fucking me against the door.
And underneath the photo, there’s a message, written out by letters cut from magazines.
Whore.It says.
You belong to me. Come home, Juni, before I make you regret ever leaving me.
Calvin.
“How?” I swallow, nausea churning in my gut, “He’s in jail.”
Silas rips his cell from his pocket, pressing the screen angrily until he finds what he’s looking for and then puts it to his ear. I hear the tinny sound of the call, and then a deep male voice answers.
“Tell me you didn’t let him go,” Silas growls to whoever is on the phone. He waits for a moment, the voice answering. “What the hell do you mean,who? Calvin Scott.”
His eyes meet mine as he listens, molten and swirling.
“This is on your head,” he growls into the speaker, “I need a deputy here. Now.”
He hangs up before they can get another word in and is in front of me in the next second.
His hands cup my face.
“They let him go,” I whisper, knowing without him saying a word to confirm it.
“Someone posted his bail. He was released three hours ago.”
“How did he get this photo?” I squeak.
