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“He’s on the porch,” I whisper.

Gavin pushes me gently into Cameron’s arms. “You both stay here.”

He takes off at breakneck speed, three of the others guy chasing after him and two more staying back with us.

“What happened, Ashley?” Cameron repeats. “Please tell me.”

But I just shake my head. I can’t say it. That would make it real. And something this horrible can’t exist in real life.

No, no, no, no, no.

“Ashley,” Cameron says, and his tone is deadly serious. “If something happened to Scout, whoever did it could still be here. Gavin could be in danger. Please, tell me what happened.”

“Oh, God,” I moan, bile rising into my throat. But his words are enough to scare me into speaking. “Someone cut Scout’s head off, Cameron. They cut his head off and left it on the doorstep. Please, go help Gavin.”

My legs are rubber and I couldn’t take a step, even if I wanted to. Besides, Gavin is going to want to hunt down and kill whoever hurt Scout, and I’m not qualified to help. He also might not want to see my face when it’s my fault that his beloved dog is dead.

God, he loves that dog so much.

Why, why, why?

What the fuck is the matter with people?

Cameron’s entire body stiffens, and he looks me right in the eye. “Stay here with Brad and Daniel, okay? I’m going to help Gavin.”

I nod miserably and collapse on the ground, burying my face in my hands and crying. I don’t feel the cold from the snow and I don’t care what happens to me anyway. I’m numb and wish that I could go back in time and never come here so I could save Gavin the heartache.

All sense of time and space have left me, and it concurrently feels like seconds and hours when Gavin appears again, his body coiled tightly with barely suppressed rage.

“Whoever did this to Scout, I’m going to shoot him dead,” Gavin says. “I’m finding this motherfucker tonight before his scent is gone.”

I rise to my feet and stand hesitantly in front of Gavin, not sure if he wants me near him or not. But he answers the unspoken question by pulling me into a quick hug and kissing my forehead.

“I’ll get to the bottom of what’s happening, babe,” he says. “I promise. And I’ll keep you safe.”

“I know you will,” I whisper, “But I’m scared that me being here meansyou’renot safe. I can’t stand being responsible for Scout’s death.”

And such a brutal death for such a sweet boy.

Oh, God.

“You aren’t,” Gavin says, which is his common refrain. “The person who did it is. You can’t control how other people behave, only how you react to it. It’s not your fault. Go to the main house and sleep in one of the spare bedrooms. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I want to beg him to stay, but it won’t do any good.

Whoever has the capacity to decapitate a sweet, innocent dog is one sick asshole, and I don’t want Gavin going toe-to-toe with him. I just want to wrap him in my arms, apologize, and comfort him.

But instead, I nod because tracking the culprit down is what needs to be done.

And I just pray that Gavin comes back to me whole.

Chapter 25

Gavin

Coldweathertrackingisa delicate thing.

Fresh snow can affect progress, but overall, there are fewer scents in the winter to confuse the dog, and tracks are sometimes visible on the ground.