Page 10

10

FORD

M y hands shake as I speed around the lake, rage and adrenaline burning through my veins.

“ I’m scared, Ford.” Harper’s breathless voice is like a blade to my chest, slicing through every last thread of restraint I have left.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles white.

She’s scared.

Harper— my Harper—is afraid, and I’m not fucking there to stop it.

The thought alone makes me want to rip someone apart.

“It’s okay, Harper,” I say, voice deceptively calm despite the storm raging inside me.

It’s not fucking okay.

Not even close.

“I’ll be there soon.”

And when I find out who did this, they’ll wish they never fucking existed.

I bet my last goddamn breath that it’s Todd Dead-Man-Walking Matthews.

“I-I’m sorry I woke you and Gram.”

“Don’t apologize.” I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. “I’m glad you called me.”

Doesn’t she fucking get it?

She could wake me up every night for the rest of my life, and I’d thank her for it.

“I probably scared your Gram to death.”

I let out a humorless chuckle. “She’s a tough broad. It didn’t faze her.”

Not much does.

But if she knew Harper was in danger, she’d be the one loading the shotgun.

My headlights cut through the night as I pull into her driveway like a bat out of hell.

I barely throw the vehicle into park before I’m out, moving toward her door in three long strides.

Before I can knock, the door flies open.

Harper stumbles forward, straight into my arms.

Her phone clatters to the floor.

I drop my own, my hands going around her instinctively, securing her against me.

I crush her to my chest like a fucking python. Like I can squeeze out all the fear, the pain, and the trembling.

Like I can keep her safe just by holding on tighter.

She shudders against me, fists clutching my shirt like I’m the only thing keeping her standing.

“It was so scary,” her voice is muffled against my chest.

I squeeze her once more, dragging in a breath before forcing myself to loosen my hold.

“Let’s get inside,” I murmur.

She nods, running a shaky hand through her hair as she steps back.

A glint of crimson catches my eye.

Blood.

I latch onto her wrist. “Harper. What the fuck?”

Her eyes widen. “I-It’s n-nothing,” she stammers as if that will stop me.

Wrong move, sweetheart.

I grab her hand, turn it over, and examine the small but deep cut. “I cut myself on the glass when I grabbed my phone,” she says, nodding toward the stairs.

My jaw clenches. “They threw it through your bedroom window?”

She nods, her lip quivering.

Fuck. I hate when Harper’s upset.

“Show me,” I demand.

I follow her up the stairs, every muscle in my body coiled tightly, ready to snap.

She steps inside her bedroom, folding her arms over her chest.

I step in behind her, scanning the room.

Broken glass is everywhere, the shards glinting on her nightstand and floor.

A cold breeze drifts through the shattered window, sending goosebumps over my arms.

And then my eyes land on the rock.

I move toward it, kneeling beside the bed.

The smooth weight of it feels solid in my palm.

The sliver of paper is beneath it, the rubber band nearby.

Rage surges through my veins as I unfold the paper and read the threatening message. “THIS ISN’T OVER!”

The words are scrawled in thick, black marker, the scent of the ink still fresh.

My pulse roars from the volcanic rage pounding through my skull.

A single name flashes through my mind.

Todd.

I can’t fucking see anything but red.

He’s the obvious suspect.

But I need to be sure.

I need to be fucking certain.

Because whoever did this to her?

They’re fucking done!

I whirl around, locking eyes with Harper.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” I say, my voice razor-sharp. “Don’t leave out a single detail.”