Page 56 of Pride

“You did what?” I snapped.

Were there any more surprises he was going to hit me with today?

“It wasn’t for anything bad. Honestly. I wanted to let your family know you were unwell, but I couldn’t find any contactsfor them. But I saw that the last message you’d sent, apart from the one you sent to me, was to someone called Gracie. So, I tried calling her, but I only got her voicemail. I left a few messages. I tried to reach out to your loved ones, Emma. That’s all. Would I do that if I was the bad guy here?”

“I guess not,” I answered, feeling conflicted and a whole lot concerned that Gracie hadn’t called back. It wasn’t like her. Something wasn’t right.

At the same time, I was still pissed off that he’d been through my phone, but I suppose he was doing the right thing. At least, that explanation made sense. And when I looked at my message thread to Gracie, I saw he’d typed out, ‘Please call Emma. This is her friend, Alex, and she’s been taken ill. I don’t want to worry you, but I wanted to reach out to someone to let them know she’s safe and being taken care of. Hope to speak to you soon.’ My call log also showed fifteen calls to Gracie’s number; none of them had connected.

“My parents aren’t here anymore,” I told him, the ice in my veins slowly thawing at the realisation that maybe he wasn’t as bad as I’d thought.

“I know,” he replied in a solemn tone. “I did a little more research after going through your phone. You’re an orphan like me.”

God, why did him saying that make my heart hurt?

“I’m not happy that you went through my phone,” I said, ignoring his last comment. “Even if it was to help.” I was still berating him, but my anger was starting to wane.

In response, he took his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to me.

“You can go through mine if it makes you feel better.”

“It wouldn’t,” I said, and then an idea struck me, and I asked, “But what’s your passcode?” If I could look through his contactsand messages, I could see if there was anything from S.K.A.M., provided he hadn’t deleted it.

“It’s four, two, nine, three,” he told me with confidence.

I tapped the numbers on the screen and started to check his messages and emails. But after going through his phone with a fine-tooth comb, I found nothing, so I placed it in the centre of the console and sat back.

“Happy?” he asked.

“No. You probably have multiple phones.”

“I am never going to win, am I?” He sighed.

“And I’m never gonna drop my guard,” I replied.

We pulledup outside my house about twenty minutes later, and Alex shut off the engine and grabbed his phone from where I’d left it on the console. He had no intention of dropping me at the kerb and driving away, that was clear. He was going to get out and walk me to my door.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “You don’t have to get out.” But he just scoffed and opened his door.

I got out of the car, still holding the knife and feeling a little steadier on my feet now.

“You can leave me here, I can make it to my door,” I said, but he didn’t listen, just gestured to the path that our little row of houses shared and said, “After you.”

I was done arguing, so I huffed and walked ahead, rooting through my bag for my front door key. Once we reached my front step, I turned and said, “I’ve got it from here.” Expecting him to leave, but he didn’t.

“I’ll leave when you’re inside your house and this door is closed,” he stated firmly.

I put the key in the lock.

Turned it and pushed the door open.

And what I saw made me cry out as my living room came into view.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

EMMA

YOU’RE NEXT.