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There is no hum from the fridge. No fans on. No creaking floors. No ventilation sounds. No footsteps. No breathing or talking.
Just nothing.
That's when I realize the power is off.
Stepping further into the house, I almost trip over something on the floor in the entry way. My heart pounds against my ribcage and I find that I'm almost too fucking afraid to look down. Madd isn't though. Or maybe he just has his shit together more than I do. He turns the flashlight on his phone on and shines it down below my feet where we find the entry rug bunched up.
Maddox lets out a low hiss, likely keeping in the scream or frustration and fear that he wants to let out.
"Split up," he whispers, not giving me any time to respond. He takes off like a bat out of hell, somehow managing to stay silent while heading directly to the stairs in front of me. He takes them three at a time causing the floor to groan under his weight.
I pull my phone out and turn on the light since he took his with him and step out of the foyer. I remember from the last time I was here and we we're saving her fucking life, that the kitchen is to my right. Fuck. That was the last time she was here also wasn't it? And I made her come by herself? Goddamnit she must have been terrified.
A stupid tendril of hope fills me. Maybe she just had a panic attack and is rocking in a corner somewhere. It's a fucked up thought and thing to be excited over but it pails in comparison to the alternative. Deat—no.I don't let myself finish that thought.
Pushing forward once more, I turn to the right and walk into her kitchen. It's a perfect square with a small island in the middle. There are windows along the far wall but the curtains have been pulled closed. My flashlight only illuminates small sections at once so I move slowly, scanning the room at large and finding nothing amiss, before turning the light to the floor.
My breath stalls in my chest.
No.
Blood.
So. Much. Blood.
I talk another step.
The barstools are turned over and one is broken.
Glass shards cover the floor.
A knife.
So. Much. Blood.
I move to the other side of the island where the room flows into a small dining area. More chairs are turned on their sides, the table pushed against a wall. Broken plates litter the floor as if they were thrown across the kitchen. Blood. More Blood. Drops, puddles, and splatter.
Gunshot.
I charge forward and almost trip over something that I know without even looking is a dead body.
"She's not upstairs," Maddox shouts, his feet pounding on the stairs as he completely gives up on remaining quiet. I don't respond. I don't look down. Not yet. I cant. "Nyxon! Where the fuck are—what? Is that blood? What the fuck? Nyx! Holy shit, no, no, NO!"
Maddox barrels into my side, pushing me out of the way.
I still don't look down.
"Oh fuck, thank God," he breathes, the sound of his relief snapping me out of my comatose state. I look down.Raptor.Bullet wound to the gut, another to the head. "The blood is his. It has to be. Yeah, yeah, it's his. It's a lot and she's small, too small for that much blood." Maddox continues to ramble as he shoves his hand through his hair repeatedly, pulling on the roots.
His manic eyes find mine but I see a hint of hope in them. Hope that the blood is likely Raptors and that his girl isn't bleeding out on the floor.
But when he takes in my expression, one of defeat and sadness, it hits him.
"Nyx." My name is a broken, desperate plea, and it fuckingguts me. "Where is she?" he chokes out.
I swallow down the sudden rush of vomit that flies up my throat, knowing that what I'm about to say is going to kill him but that it's true. I know it with every fiber of my fucking being, every black, broken piece of my soul.
Inhaling deeply, I prepare to wreck my best friend and shatter the last shreds of sanity he's clinging to.
"She's gone."
