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"I’m sorry, little sister. I wish I could give you access." But it’s not secure, I complete my brother’s sentence.
I stay on the line until Nate pulls into his garage, promising to call as soon as he finds something. He has a similar setup in his LA house as at the vineyard and can search several cameras simultaneously. He assures me that he should have something in a couple of hours.
It's 1:30 when we hang up. Another hour and a half until Rhys gets home. I have the urge to pick Natty up from school, but replacing my totaled Jeep was low on everyone's priority list. I'm stuck here. Restless, I walk down the hall to my sister's bedroom and step up to the window. After glancing down at the photo on the laptop in my hands, I scan the outside. It's not hard to narrow down the spot. Someone could've taken the picture across the fence from Mr. Hollencomp's backyard. Mr. Hollencomp is a consultant for some big firm and never home, so no one would've noticed a stranger marching across his lawn.
I’ve just placed the laptop back on my desk when I hear the humming sound of the garage's roll gate. My gaze flicks to the clock at the top of the screen. This is not good.
Running through all the options of who could be home this early, every possibility results in the same conclusion. Something happened. Again.
I take two steps at a time and round the entrance to the kitchen when my little sister bursts through the door from the garage. Tears are streaming down her face.
"Natty, what—" But she hurries past me and up the stairs before I can finish the question.
Heather appears in the kitchen with a somber expression, and our eyes lock.
"What happened?" I whisper, palms pressed against my chest.
She sighs, setting her purse on the kitchen island. "Some girls got a hold of the article that was published today." She scans my face to see if I know what she's talking about. I nod, and she continues, "They cornered her in the bathroom and must've said some awful things. I got a call from the counselor that Natty got into an altercation with a girl named Victoria Rosenfield. Natty refused to go into details."
No way!
"Rosenfield?" I choke out in disbelief.
Heather turns to face me head-on. "Did you know Katherine's little sister goes to school with Natty?"
My hand fists my shirt near the neckline. "No! I didn’t even know Katherine had a sister."
When did the Wicked Bitch get a sister?
"Rhys has mentioned her once or twice. But last I heard, she was at a boarding school in Maine." She lets herself drop onto the barstool. "Lilly, this is getting out of hand. What is happening?" Heather's eyes gloss over, and I swallow over the lump in my throat. By forming a relationship with my biological brother, I’ve turned my entire family into targets.
This is all my fault.
I attemptto check on Natty, but she refuses to open the door. I could easily pick her lock, but the coward in me chickens out. Instead, I sit in the middle of my bed, clutching a throw pillow until screeching tires announce Rhys’s arrival at home.
Natty is getting targeted because of me. Because I chose to protect the man who kidnapped not just me, but four other girls. Because I fell in love with her big brother. It's all on me.
Rhys storms into the house and up the stairs with Wes on his heels, heading straight for his little sister's room. I stand in my doorway, and as soon as Rhys hammers against her door, she opens up, flinging herself into his arms. I cover my mouth with my hands.
Wes's gaze swivels to me, and as Rhys disappears with Natty into her room, his best friend slowly moves toward me.
I stare up at the blond boy who's been part of my life for so long. He has always been the one with a joke on his lips, the one with the ability to dissolve any tension and make you feel better. But at this moment, none of that is present. Hurt, anger, and sorrow flicker in equally quick succession across his face. Wes and I are toe to toe, neither of us speaking, and my heart beats a million miles a minute.
Does he blame me as well?
I shuffle backward, ready to hide in my room, when his arms shoot out, and he pulls me into a tight hug, interlocking them behind my neck, careful not to touch the injured skin below. The motion is so sudden that my body stiffens. Wes places a kiss on my hair, and I melt into the embrace. I swallow hard.
"It’ll be okay," my friend murmurs.
This brings back the memory he and I share from over two and a half years ago. Rhys had made his first public appearance with Katherine in school. I was hiding near the side entrance of the east wing, wiping away tears, when Wes found me. Back then, he did the exact same thing. He hugged me and told me it would be okay. In the end, it was, but what did we have to go through to get to that point?
Wesand I sit in silence on my bed when the burner phone I kept in the pocket of my sweatpants starts to vibrate. I jump off the mattress as fast as my raw back allows and speed-walk into the bathroom. Wes follows at a slower pace, and I’ve already accepted the call by the time he closes the door behind us.
George's face fills the screen, and I suck in a sharp breath. George, the man who could be the poster guy for Botox—with the lack of facial expressions and all—looks back at me with a scrunched forehead and unsmiling mouth—not that he smiles a lot. His scar is stretched around his eye and chin, which makes him appear more menacing than usual.
"This is not good." Wes glances over my shoulder and comes to the same conclusion.
"Miss Lilly," George greets me. His gaze flicks behind me. "Weston."
