Page 4

“ H i, yes. I’m here to pick up my medication,” I say to the pharmacy tech at the grocery store. She’s young, maybe my age, with reddish-brown hair pulled into a ponytail and freckles peeking out from behind her medical mask. Her eyes crinkle slightly as she smiles behind it.

“Name and date of birth, please.”

I rattle off the information, watching her tap the keyboard before disappearing behind a wall of shelves. It doesn’t take long for her to return with a small paper bag in hand. She runs through the names of the medications, but I barely hear her.

It’s been about eight months since I started medication for my OCD.

At first, I thought it was a shackle. I thought that I could just not take the medication and all of it would go away. But like the good girl that I am, I take them, because that’s what allows me to live my life somewhat the way I want, not at home with my mom. I can have some sense of freedom at Ashen Grove.

I convinced myself that swallowing these pills gives me some sort of control over my life. It’s what keeps my mom off my case. It’s what allows me to function, to move forward, to pretend that everything’s okay.

I have been at home for a few days now, hoping to ambush my mother to ask her questions that she is obviously avoiding. Once she found out that I came home, she decided that she was going to stay in the city with one of her boyfriends. So I’ve had the house to myself.

I force a tight smile as I take the bag from the tech and head back to the car. The drive home feels like a blur, and once I’m there, I immediately pull the frozen lasagna from the freezer and preheat the oven.

The house is eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only makes the thoughts louder. I haven’t heard from the guys since I blocked their numbers. The ache of their absence lingers, but the photos tucked away in the drawer of my nightstand burn in the back of my mind.

I don’t know what to think. I believe in my heart that Levi could never have killed anyone. But when I look at those photos, I see the smile he has. It’s chilling. I just need some space. The boys will understand. At least, I hope they will.

Once the oven beeps, I slide the lasagna inside and head to my bedroom to change into something comfortable. The scent of the Manor, of the boys, is gone from my clothes. The smell that always comforts me is gone, replaced by the sterile cleanliness of my mom’s house. It’s safe here, sure. But it’s not home .

I grab the edge of my hoodie, tugging it over my head, when I hear a sound. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I freeze, listening. The familiar sense of dread coils in my stomach. Footsteps.

Someone’s here.

I whip around, my heart pounding, only to find Silas standing at the entrance of my bedroom, his arms crossed as he leans against the doorframe. His dark blond curls fall messily across his forehead. He moves his hand up to tousle them as he curls his lip to show his bright smile. He’s so infuriatingly attractive.

“How did you get in here?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. “I have a key.”

“Your parents have a key. You do not.”

Silas shrugs, his expression maddeningly calm. “Still belongs to the Morgans.”

“Silas, I’m not doing this. Just leave.”

He moves toward me, reaching out to grab hold of me. “Explain to me why I’m blocked. Tell me why you left and came here.”

“I need space,” I say, turning away from him.

“Space?” His tone drips in disbelief. “Levi was taken, Sable. He’s gone, and you just… up and leave?”

“I told you. I sent a text before I blocked your number. Don’t act like I disappeared without a word.”

“Why are you back home?”

“I had to pick up more of my medication,”

“That doesn’t take three days, Sable.”

“You don’t know how long the line was,” I mutter, brushing past him to head out of my room. There’s no way I will stay caged in this bedroom with him.

“Come back to the Manor. Please. We need you.”

“Not until my mother tells me how to make this all go away.”

I go over to the dining table to my bag. I pull out the photos, my hand trembling as I hold them out to him.

“You think I’m running? Look at this, Silas.” My voice is tight, the hurt and anger bubbling up, “I’m trying to find an answer to this.”

He takes them, flipping through the grainy images of Levi standing near the bodies. His face hardens as he studies each one, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he reaches the last one, the one where Levi is standing over Victoria, the knife in his hand, blood spattered across his clothes, his expression darkens.

“This isn’t real,” he mutters, shaking his head. “This is staged. It has to be.”

“Whoever sent this wanted me to see it. Wanted me to think that the Horsemen can’t be trusted.”

“The Syndicate got it wrong.”

“Why did they take him?”

He moves closer, his hand reaching for mine, but I pull away.

“I can’t, Silas,” I whisper, my voice barely holding together. “I can’t pretend like everything is okay when nothing makes sense anymore.”

He exhales sharply, frustration flashing across his face as he grips the back of the chair in front of him, his knuckles turning white. “Sable, you know Levi. You know he didn’t do this.”

“I cannot just sit by and let them continue to keep him there when I can be doing something. My mother has connections. She’ll come home, and then I can corner her. She will tell me what I can do to fix this.” My voice rises as the doubt and fear I’ve been suppressing comes crashing down all at once. What if I can’t bring him back?

His eyes narrow, hurt flashing behind them, but there’s anger too. “Come back home with me. You know she won’t give you anything worth our time.”

“You want me to come back to the Manor, but for what? So I can sit there and pretend that we are all just in love and happy?”

“It wasn’t pretend.”

“Is that really what you’re trying to convince yourself of, Si? Really?”

“Sable.” His voice is quieter now. “I’ve fucked up with you more times than I can count. I know that. But I need you with me. I lov?—”

“Don’t do this here.”

His mouth softly closes while his eyes fill with enough hurt to break my heart. There’s always been a part of me that felt safe with Silas, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart. But now… now I’m not sure if that safety is real or if it’s just a comfort I’ve been clinging to out of habit. And that terrifies me.

“You think leaving your mother is just going to give up information easily? Our parents want nothing to do with this. Plus, the killer is still out there, Sab!”

“I have to at least try. Give me the chance to at least try to save him.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. He stands there, motionless, the photos of Levi still clutched in his hand. His gaze locks on me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to fight me harder on this, forcing me to go with him. But then his shoulders drop, and a flicker of something vulnerable passes across his face—something I’m not used to seeing in Silas.

“I need space,” I say again. “I need time to figure out what’s real and what’s not.”

After a long moment, he nods, his movements stiff, reluctant. “Fine. If space is what you need, I won’t stop you.”

He moves past me, but just before he reaches for the handle, he turns back, his gaze hard and determined. “You know where to find me when you’re ready to come home.”

Without waiting for a response, he yanks the door open and steps out, leaving the room cold and empty in his wake.

I close my eyes, trying to ground myself, but all I can picture is him standing there, his eyes locked on mine, pleading for something I can’t give right now.

The photos lie scattered on the table, the images of Levi haunting me. My fingers twitch as I reach out and grab one, staring at Levi’s face. Blood splattered across his clothes. The scene is so grotesque, so unlike the Levi I know, yet something in my gut twists with uncertainty.

I turn toward the window, needing air, but when I glance out, I swear I see a shadow moving. My heart skips a beat as I step closer, pressing my hand to the cool glass.

Nothing. Just the empty street and the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

The anxiety creeps in, curling around my chest like a vise. I take a shaky breath, clutching my arms around my body as if I can hold myself together with sheer will alone.

This is what they want, I remind myself. They want me to question everything, to doubt everyone around me.

And it’s working.

I step back from the window, drawing the curtains shut with a sharp tug. The house feels too big and too empty all at once. Suddenly, I regret being here all alone.

My gaze darts to the front door. Did I lock it? I can’t remember.

The thought sends a fresh wave of unease rippling through me, and I force my feet to move. I reach the door, my fingers fumbling with the deadbolt to make sure it’s secure. It is. Of course, it is. But the relief is fleeting.

What about the back door?

I move through the house quickly, checking each lock, each latch, each window. By the time I finish, my breathing is shallow, my pulse hammering in my ears.

I grab my phone off the table, scrolling through my blocked contacts. Silas, Kai, Levi, and Dayton … all of them. Their names stare back at me like ghosts from another life.

I scroll to the bottom of my messages, my thumb hovering over the last text I sent to our group chat before I blocked them.

Me

I need time. Don’t come looking for me.

A chill runs down my spine as I reread the words. They feel like a lie now, a thin veneer of control I don’t actually have. The truth is, I don’t know how much time I need. I don’t know if I can figure this out on my own.

I turn off the phone and toss it onto the couch, running a hand through my hair. My gaze moves to the window again, to the thin gap in the curtains where I can see the driveway and road.

What if the Syndicate is watching me right now?

Or the one responsible for the murders?

I grab the curtain edges and yank them closed, sealing myself in.

But no matter how many locks I check or curtains I draw, the unease doesn’t leave. It clings to me, a silent reminder that no matter how safe I try to make this place, I’ll never feel it. Not truly.

Not until I know who’s hunting me.