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I lifted the corners of my mouth in a faint smile before looking back to the windows of my old room, replaying the memory over and over.
Every time, wondering who he was.
Every time, getting caught on the fact that my brother hadn’t looked surprised to see the Borello men there.
And every time, wondering why I had never noticed that before.
Walking into that room hours later was the worst homecoming I’d ever experienced. I hadn’t set foot in there since the night I’d woken up to find members of the Borello family standing inside it.
I’d stayed in different rooms for a while . . . Kieran’s. The library. If Beck or Conor were working, I snuck into their rooms in Soldier’s Row on the other side of the property to sleep. Anywhere so long as I didn’t have to be in the room that had been the source of my nightmares until Kieran, Beck, and I had moved into the guesthouse.
Nothing had changed except for the carpet, and an odd sense of nostalgia filled my chest before I began trembling violently.
Because not three feet from where I was standing was where Aric had fallen to the floor.
And just across the room was where I had been. A man dragging me away before Kieran had ended his life.
All of it played out on a twisted loop as I watched from the doorway. And I couldn’t stop it.
“One of the other rooms?”
“No. He said it was in here somewhere.”
I swallowed thickly, forcing down the bile that rose in my throat, and shut my eyes as I tried to remember those words over and over again.
So many places something could be hidden, and I had no idea what they’d been looking for.
Half an hour later, I was sitting on the floor of my closet, somewhat relieved that I hadn’t found anything in my room for the Borellos to find, despite wishing I had.
I’d wanted to find a reason for that night to have happened at all. To know they hadn’t been there by mistake, and he’d died for absolutely nothing.
Their words had felt so crucial when I’d woken to them early this morning, like I’d needed to hear them. But I was starting to wonder if that little piece I’d been given had been real at all. If any of the new pieces during my nightmares were real, or just what my subconscious created over time.
I climbed to my feet and took one last look inside the empty closet, then turned to leave.
My gaze shifted to my feet as I shut the closet door, desperately trying not to linger on places that triggered a cold sweat and images I saw far too often.
I took quick steps away from the closet and had just reached the dresser when something caught my eye, and I slowed.
Backing up a few steps, I looked behind the dresser from my new angle, studying the way the baseboard seemed to be hugging the wall instead of attached to it.
I pushed the dresser a few inches away so I could drop to my knees behind it, and quickly reached for the piece of baseboard.
My heart thundered when the wood easily fell away at my touch, and I forced myself to take steadying breaths when I saw the sheetrock had been cut out from behind it.
I knew from the chill that gripped at my spine this was what they’d been looking for that night.
And I hated him—whoever he was. For putting me in danger by using my room. For leaving something there for those men to find. For letting Aric die.
I hated all of them.
“One of the other rooms?”
“No. He said it was in here somewhere.”
My hand shook as I reached inside, but my hope died and heart sank as I searched and searched and came up empty.
I sat back on my heels and stared at the empty hole in my wall as that night continued to torture me—silently begging for something to appear. When minutes passed and nothing in the room changed, I placed the baseboard back and stood. After shoving the dresser back into its place, I quickly left the room, my eyes closed tight in a vain attempt to shut out the never-ending nightmares playing in my mind.
