Page 72 of Buried in Blood

“You watch her,” he says under his breath. “If she snaps… you’ll be the first one she takes with her.”

Then he leaves.

And I stand in the center of my room, staring at the blank wall, hearthollow.

Because I don’t know what’s more terrifying—

That Reese is right.

Or that a part of me… isn’t afraid of Brooke at all. It feels sorry for her.

* * *

The tray slides across the floor with a soft scrape.

Reese doesn’t knock. Just sets the food down outside my door like I’m a fucking pet. Stew. Bread. A bottle of water.

I open it slowly and find him standing in the hall, arms folded, expression unreadable.

“She still hasn’t made a sound,” he says, nodding toward Brooke’s room.

“She won’t,” I whisper.

“She freak you out yet?”

I don’t answer.

Because the truth is—yes. But not in the way he thinks. Not in the obvious way.

Brooke doesn’t feelwrong.

She feels like a reflection I don’t want to look at. Like a version of me that gave up faster.

“Damien said he’s staying at the Golden Hollows overnight,” Reese mutters.

I nod. “Of course, he is.”

His eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I step back into my room. “Nothing.”

But he follows me.

Closes the door behind us.

Not slamming.

Not loud.

Just a softclick, like sealing something inside.

“Stop it,” he says.

“Stop what?”

“Acting like you’re not breaking.”

I freeze.