Page 23 of Cryptic Curse (Bellamy Brothers #7)

DANIELA

I pull into the driveway at Vinnie and Raven’s and head around to my door.

Vinnie insisted, when I moved in, that I take the “mother-in-law” suite on the west wing that has its own entrance.

He’s been so good to me, and it is nice to have my own private bedroom suite, bathroom, and kitchenette, though I prefer cooking in the main kitchen.

The private door is tucked between two towering hedges, a narrow arch of brick half-hidden in ivy. Most people wouldn’t even notice it. That’s what I love about it—it feels like a secret, even though everything about this place is open to me.

Beyond it, the lights along the path are low and soft, set to glow just enough to guide the way. No fountain or statues here, nothing meant to impress—just a quiet strip of garden, lined with lavender and polished stepping stones that lead straight to the door. My door.

The lights above the entryway click on as I approach. My reflection wavers in the black glass, just for a second, before I step onto the small porch and face the keypad.

“What?” I say out loud.

A white envelope is taped to my door. It’s sealed with a red heart sticker.

My heart races. It must be from Hawk. I mean, who else would have sent it?

Jordan, maybe, but he doesn’t know where I live.

Right. It has to be from Hawk.

Those kisses with him were amazing, like sinking into something dangerous and delicious at the same time. Like forgetting my own name and not even caring. Every time his mouth touched mine, the world blurred at the edges, and nothing existed but the heat between us and the way he held me.

I stare at the envelope, my fingers hovering just above it. My name’s not written on it, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s his kind of bold move—no return address, no explanation, just that tiny red heart, almost like a dare.

The air feels charged, like a storm’s about to roll in, even though the sky is clear. My pulse thumps in my throat as I gently peel the envelope from the door. The tape crackles. I half-expect someone to be watching from the hedges.

Whatever’s inside, it’s going to change something.

I can feel it.

My fingers tremble as I ease the flap open, careful not to tear the paper. The envelope feels too light, like it’s holding something that shouldn’t weigh anything but somehow does.

Inside is a small cheap valentine—the kind you’d hand out in third grade. A cartoon heart with a face grins up at me, but something’s wrong. The printed words say Be Mine, but someone crossed out Be in sharp strokes and written in ink, You Are.

You Are Mine.

A chill unfurls down my spine.

And when I look closer, I notice that the sender has drawn in trickles of blood coming out of the heart with red permanent marker.

My breath catches as I unfold the card.

Inside, in the same ink, it reads:

You locked the door, but you forgot—I have the key. I always have.

For a second, everything goes still. No wind, no birds, no distant hum of voices from inside the house. Just the whisper of the paper in my hand and the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears.

This isn’t from Hawk.

It’s not from Jordan either. I barely know him, but he wouldn’t do this. Not like this.

I glance at the keypad beside the door. At the perfect, silent hedges. At the lavender brushing my ankles. It all feels wrong now—too quiet, too open, too exposed. My mouth goes dry.

I scan the garden behind me, the path I just walked. Someone was here. Someone close enough to reach my door. Someone who knows about the lock. The key.

Who still has it.

I tighten my fingers around the valentine, crumpling it slightly, and for the first time since I came to the United States, I feel truly, completely afraid.