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“Here’s the thing,” I say, standing up and reaching over to her, gripping her chin in my hand with extra force. “They weren’t working with the fucking cops.” Her eyes widen as she tries to pull away but I grip her tighter. “You sick bitch, I’ll make sure that you’ll regret this. My advice? Sleep with one eye open when you’re locked up.”

I let go of her face and kick my chair back before storming out of the room.

I stand in the kitchen when Charlie leaves the house, determined to get back to normal. Which means moving back to the compound, training, and getting back out on jobs again. I desperately wanted Charlie to tell me to stay at his place, I waited with bated breath before he left, but yet again I had my hopes up and I shouldn’t have.

I wander around the house for a while and watch some crappy TV in the bedroom before I start to feel restless. Even after taking some painkillers I still don’t feel sated so I go and pour myself another coffee.

I take it into the living room, lying back on the sofa and humming a song that’s been stuck in my head for the last couple of hours. I look around the room, knowing that I’ll probably never sit in this room again like this, I doubt he’ll want me back here once I’m back at the compound.

I stare at the box on the top of the bookcase. The same box that I’ve stared at for days but haven’t had the guts to look into.

This may be my last chance to find out what’s in there.

I jump up, pushing one of the chairs against the bookcase and climbing onto it as my curious nature wins out. Even standing on a chair I still can’t reach the box so I grab the step stool from the kitchen and put it on top of the chair, managing to pull the box closer. I start to lose my balance and the box goes tumbling to the floor with an almighty bang as I grip onto the bookcase to save myself.

“Shit!”

I scramble down and gather the contents of the box, trying to get it all back in there. I shouldn’t have been looking. Why the hell did I want to spy? Dammit!

I push the papers back into the folder but a name grabs my attention. I can’t help but pull the piece of paper out all the way and scan it.

Demi Mackenzie.

“What are you doing?”

I jump out of my skin at the sound of Charlie’s voice, the death certificate still clutched in my hands. “I… I…”

I place it back into the folder and scramble up, holding my hands out to him. “It fell, I didn’t... I mean, I…”

“Get out,” he rumbles, so low that at first I think I’ve misheard him.

“Charlie.”

“Out!” he shouts, crouching down and placing all the papers back into the box neatly.

“Please,” I beg.

“I swear to fucking God, Kitty. Get. Out!”

I hiccup a sob at the look on his face. His brows are drawn down and his eyes look at me like I’m a stranger, no other emotion but anger evident.

I rush into the bedroom, pulling my jeans on and shoving my feet into my boots before heading straight out of the door with my arms wrapped around myself.

I wander the streets for about an hour until I decide to stick to my plan. I was always going to go back home today, I need to stick to it and pretend that none of that just happened. He wouldn’t have come to see me anyway, not after I left his house.

I grab a cab and head back to the compound, not bothering to go to the warehouse first, instead, I head straight for my cottage and slip into my bed, wrapping the sheets around me and burying my head in my pillow as the sobs finally take over my body.

My chest rises and falls; faster, harder. The breath leaving my body in gasps the longer I stare at the box. My hands shake and I ball them into fists, trying to get ahold of myself. But I can’t. Images flash in my mind at a hundred miles per hour and I squeeze my eyes closed to try and get rid of them.

Gripping my head in my hands I crouch down, my knees landing on the piece of paper that Kitty held as I came in the door.

I reach down and pick it up, my eyes blurring with tears making it hard to read the words, but I don’t need to see it. I know exactly what it says because I’ve stared at it enough times before.

My breath hitches as the tears roll down my face and I swipe at them angrily. I pull the box closer, shoving the contents back inside as fast as I can. I can’t go there again, not right now.

Once it’s all inside the box I stand up and put it back on the top shelf of the bookcase, kicking the chair out of the way and causing it to slam into the wall before I go storming into the kitchen.

I yank the fridge door open and pull out a beer, twisting the top off and leaning against the counter as the liquid hits my tongue and flows down my throat.