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I give him the same response for the hundredth time, my voice straining out the word, “No.”
“They scrambled the video feed.” Desmond stalks in from the kitchen, hanging up his phone. He was cleaning up dinner and looking over Milo’s homework. Milo tried to rush through it so he could play video games with Lyric, who is upstairs with him now. Frustration and anxiety show on Desmond’s face.
“Who was on the phone?” I question, my unease growing.
“Vito,” he grumbles, his tone laced with dark urgency. “I had him pull the camera footage. I catch them walking in, but the picture is grainy. Within minutes, all the cameras go out.”
“All of them?” Matty pauses, his brows drawn low, and his hands drop. He’s wearing his usual board shorts and T-shirt, but the room’s tension makes him feel more like a caged predator.
“All of them,” Desmond snarls. “I’m having Vito sweep the diner now.”
“You think they left a bug?” Matty questions, his words hanging in the air like an ominous premonition.
“I’m positive they left a bug,” Desmond answers, his words laced with a chilling certainty that sends shivers down our spines. The darkness in the room deepens, and the urgency of the situation looms over us like a menacing shadow, ready to consume everything in its path.
I nibble on my bottom lip, a chill racing through me that has nothing to do with this old house. “It could be nothing, right?”
They slowly turn to me. I can see their thoughts as they flicker across their faces—desperation, worry, and murder.
“Come back to the mansion.” Desmond doesn’t ask, he demands. That’s Desmond for you. I know he’s looking out for me, for us, and I know he just wants us to play it safe.
The best way to appease Desmond is to give in, even if it’s just a little, which requires negotiation. “After the weekend.”
His teeth grind, and his eyes zero in on me. “Your rooms are almost finished, there’s no reason to stay—”
I hold up a hand, trying to process what he just said. “Rooms?” Confusion and worry tangle in my mind. I didn’t know of any plans forrooms. The unexpected mention adds a layer of bewilderment to the already tense atmosphere.
Matty winces. “Too fast, bro. Too fast. We talked about this.”
Desmond glances at Matty, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “I’m trying,” he grits out, his jaw clenched in vexation.
“You have to ask. Consent,” Matty repeats firmly, his voice a blend of exasperation and concern.
“I asked for consent,” Desmond retorts, throwing his hands in the air, a mixture of defensiveness and agitation in his posture. “And she came all over my cock.”
“Not the same thing,” Matty argues, exasperation coloring his tone. “You have to ask if she wants a room in the mansion. Let her decorate it and pick out the curtains and bedspread.”
“I have designers for that,” Desmond counters, his impatience evident in his response.
Honestly, I’m completely content to watch this entire thing play out. It’s a strange mix of a domestic disagreement and a power struggle, all wrapped up in the bizarre context of our unconventional lives.
Matty groans, frustration evident in every line of his face. “You don’t uproot someone and tell them where to live.”
“You didn’t have an issue.” Desmond points a finger at him, his irritation palpable.
“That isn’t the same, and you know it,” Matty argues, his voice laced with an urgency born from concern for me and perhaps frustration at his lack of understanding.
A shatter pulls a scream from me.
My body flies to the floor as Matty tackles me down, covering my entire body with his. I hearbang-bang-bang, sharp and menacing. My ears roar, and I swear I go deaf as black spots dance in my vision.
In the split second of chaos, terror grips me like a vise, squeezing the air from my lungs.
I hear the thudding of feet, rapid and heavy, coming from somewhere, echoing like a grim drumbeat of danger.
“Milo,” I say, my voice lost in the cacophony. My heart hammers in my chest, a wild beast desperate to escape. “Milo,” I repeat, but I still can’t hear my voice. My thoughts race, trying to make sense of the unfurling nightmare.
I try to push Matty off me, and I feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. I think he’s speaking words of reassurance or warning, but again, I can’t hear.
