CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
SHILOH
I can tellsomething’s wrong the second I get back to Donovan’s apartment a few hours later. I tried to time it so I’d get back around the same time he did, so I went to the center for a while and made up a going-away basket for Iggy with Pierre.
I should have been here sooner.
The door is slightly ajar, and he’s so careful about everything he does that I know he wouldn’t have gone to practice and not checked twice that it was locked before leaving the building.
I don’t think when I pull my switchblade from my pocket, even though I was just living on some ridiculous high that I could actually be a better person after all.
The immediate snicking sound of the blade is proof that when push comes to shove, I’m always going to go back to the response I know, to the Shiloh I’ve always been.
But that Shiloh is the one who goes into Donovan’s apartment ready to cut anything to ribbons that might have hurt him.
And I probably would have… if I’d been here when whatever had happened happened.
I’m too late, though.
Judging by what I’m seeing, there wasn’t much of a scuffle, but there was a fight. I have to assume Donovan didn’t know whoever came in was here, or there would be more of a mess.
But still, his lamp is knocked over, and one of the couch cushions is thrown off.
And when I turn to look, the Godzilla posters on his wall are slightly askew, the glass broken.
It’s the posters that really get to me, that make my stomach clench and my entire body start to slowly spill from warm to cold.
A ping behind me catches my attention—Donovan’s phone is sitting on the counter, like he’d just come in from practice or something when he was taken.
And I know it’s a jump… but there was obviously a bit of a fight, and his posters are fucked up.
His front door was open.
And Donovan isn’t here, but his phone is.
His absence in the apartment is like a black hole—I can feel every part of me that was full of hope, full of warmth, every part of me that was the Shiloh who madepromisesslowly leech into that void.
All those parts strip away and leave me with nothing but the monster I’ve always been.
I don’t know why I ever thought I could be anything different. Being different made me complacent. Being complacent meant something happened to Donovan while I wasn’t paying attention.
I don’t regret visiting Iggy, but I’m ready to burn the world down if it means I can find out where Donovan went.
No, not where he went.
I need to figure out whotookhim.
The only problem is, as much as he asked me about my past, as much as I’ve been worried about trying to open up to him… I’ve never asked him if he had any enemies.
After figuring out what I really was, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have told me even if someone was threatening him every day, because he’d have to know…
He’d have to know what I’d do.
What I’m going to do.
I’ll have to ask Donovan for forgiveness later, but maybe it’s something he can get over since I’m going to kill someone to helphim.
You could call the police.
