I need to kiss her lips one more time before I die.
CHAPTER 42
LILY
Two days and still no sign of Asher. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’m completely wracked with worry. The twins haven’t heard from him. Jude even called Asher’s mum, who sounded off her head, high on drugs, and couldn’t get any sense out of her. He’s just… gone.
To say tension is thick in the safe house is an understatement, the twins hardly talking to me, yet worried for their friend regardless of what’s happened.
Barrett is currently out searching the streets, and the twins are asleep in the living room, passed out after gaming for hours.
Me? Well, I’m sitting at the dining table, my leg jigging like it’s having a damn seizure, scrolling through social media, hoping something will pop up. Like, maybe Asher is finally letting loose and enjoying his freedom.
The moment his name pops up on my screen with a text message, I gasp, quickly tapping into it.
ASHER: Sorry my phone went flat, but I’m back at the house charging it. Are you okay?
Tears well in my eyes as a quiet sob escapes me, and I quickly tap out my response.
LILY: I was so worried. I’m okay. Stay there. I’m coming to you.
ASHER: See you soon.
I lurch from my chair, ready to tell the boys, but then think better of it. I’ll just go and get Asher and bring him back to see them. Then, hopefully, we can start repairing my little family.
On Asher’s motorcycle, I speed through the quiet streets of Hedgwick, needing to get home to him. I need to tell him that I love him, too. I need to apologise for being such a chickenshit about us.
Flying into the driveway, I skid as I brake just in time to avoid hitting the garage door before I leap off the bike, tear off the helmet, and dash inside.
“Asher!” I call, slipping past the police tape, rushing through the dark into the living area, where I run my hand over the wall to turn on the light.
The moment the room illuminates, I freeze.
My house… is trashed.
The furniture has been tossed and slashed, the TV smashed, my family photos that were on the wall now in splinters on the floor.
Is this what the police did? It’s hard to believe they’d make such a mess, but maybe they were just thorough, looking for any evidence they could use against me.
Or maybe… this was done by someone else…
Without a second thought, I pull out my gun and dart to the stairs, taking two at a time, skidding to a stop in the doorway of Ronan’s room. Asher’s room.
“Asher,” I whisper into the dark space, wondering where he is.
Flicking on the light, I see the room is tossed too, the mattress slashed, the pictures Asher drew torn and strewn across the floor.
Then, my gaze catches on a piece of paper on the far wall, held in place with a dagger.
Shit.
Blood rushes past my ears as I step over the carnage to get to the note, and then my heart seizes.
IF YOU WANT LOVER BOY TO STAY ALIVE,
COME TO WAREHOUSE 74 ON SUTTON’S LANE
AND TRADE HIS LIFE FOR YOURS.
