Penn doesn’t say anything as he stirs the liquid, but I feel his tension, the way his grip tightens around the spoon, the way his shoulders are stiff.
I take a slow breath, steadying myself. “I started getting the messages a few months ago,” I say quietly. “First, it was texts—always from an unknown number. Just vague threats at first.You’ll regret what you did. You ruined everything.I ignored them, thought maybe it was just some loser from back home trying to scare me. But then they got worse. More specific. I’m getting emails now too.”
Penn still doesn’t look at me, but I know he’s listening.
“They mentioned Nathan,” I continue, my voice tightening around his name. “They mentioned you.” My fingers clench around my sleeves, gripping them like a lifeline. “The messages escalated fast. Said they were going to make me pay, that I wouldn’t see it coming. It’s gotten… more graphic. More detailed.” I swallow hard. “I don’t know for sure who’s sending them, but I have a pretty good guess.”
Penn finally looks over his shoulder at me, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Your brother.”
I nod. “He’s getting out of prison on Friday.” My response sounds thin in the vast silence of his kitchen. “Jace has been out for over a year now and these messages just started in the last few months. I think he would have done something sooner.”
Penn exhales through his nose, turning his attention back to the pot. The milk is steaming now, tendrils of heat curling from the surface.
I keep going, because if I stop now, I might lose my nerve. “I don’t think they’re just empty threats, Penn. I don’t think they’regoing to let this go.” I wet my lips, my throat dry. “And I bet you’re getting the same thing.”
He doesn’t react, just keeps stirring with slow, controlled movements. The silence stretches between us until I can’t take it anymore.
“Say something,” I demand with frustration.
He turns off the stove, then looks at me, his expression blank. “Why is this my problem?”
I stare at him, my stomach twisting into knots. I don’t know what I expected—maybe not immediate concern, but at least some acknowledgment that this isn’t justmymess.
Instead of answering, I grab my phone off the counter, unlocking it with trembling fingers. “Because of this,” I murmur, sliding it toward him.
Penn picks it up, and as he reads, his entire body goes rigid. I watch his expression shift from disinterest to something far darker.
You think you’re safe? You think you can hide? I’m going to make you suffer, Mila. Going to defile you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine. You’re going to beg for death before we’re through with you. Just like Nathan did. Just like Penn will. You’ll never see it coming.
His grip tightens around the phone. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, and glances up at me. “Whoever wrote this says they’re going to defile you.” His eyes glint dangerously. “Your brother wouldn’t do that to you.”
I give a mirthless laugh. “My brother just spent ten years in prison because of me and you. I’m not so sure there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do to hurt me. He hates me more than he hates you. And besides, even if he wouldn’t do that, his threat is just as terrifying. That’s exactly what he’s trying to do… scare the shit out of me. It’s working.”
Penn hands my phone back, then pours the steaming cocoa and pushes the mug across the counter at me. “I still don’t understand why you’re here. Why you think I can help you.”
I pick up the mug, inhale the sweet, spicy fragrance and take a tentative sip. The cayenne warms me instantly. “I came to you because I don’t know who else to go to. I don’t have anyone else. It’s a mystery, you’re involved, and two heads are better than one.”
Penn’s gaze sharpens. “What about your parents?”
A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it. “We don’t speak.”
That gets a reaction. His head jerks slightly, brows furrowing. “What?”
I exhale slowly, staring at the marble countertop. “They never forgave me. They wanted to believe Peter could never do such a thing.” I lift my gaze to meet his. “Even after he took a plea deal, they blamed me.”
Penn shakes his head, disbelief cutting through his irritation. “He fucking admitted to what he did.”
“Didn’t matter.” I force a shrug, though it feels hollow. “They were more ashamed of me for betraying my family than they were of Peter for what he did.”
Penn’s fingers curl into a fist against the counter. “That’s fucking insane.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “My aunt took me in. Dorene—my mom’s sister. She let me move in with her in Florida, helped me get through school.” I exhale sharply.
Penn studies me, his irritation briefly giving way to something else. Something closer to understanding.
“What have you been doing for the past ten years?” he asks quietly.
I blink at the unexpected question.
