I stare at the phone. “Cleo?” I say while unclipping my seatbelt.
Vance looks at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, the phone cut out; I think she dropped her phone. I better check she isn’t burning down the house.” I laugh, opening my door. Vance drives off as I fiddle with the keys, unlocking the place and stepping inside.
Silence greets me like an unwelcome omen as I step into the foyer, my pulse quickening with a strange foreboding. “Cleo?” I call out, my voice echoing off the walls, unanswered.“Your phone must have cut out.”
I glance around as I step into the vast mansion’s foyer, its empty halls echoing with my footsteps. Worry gnaws at me as I call out Cleo’s name, but there is no response.
The silence is suffocating, amplifying my concern for her safety.
I clutch the phone tighter, still blank like the phone is connected; it’s just dropped service. “Cleo?” I call out. My heart hammers as I press the end-call button. Something’s wrong.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, tossing my phone on the nearest table. I make my way through the silence, every nerve in my body on high alert. It’s too quiet— the kind of quiet that has my wolf on edge. I check the kitchen to find she isn’t there, before making my way back into the hall.I take a deepbreath and scan the living room— no sign of her. I creep into the hallway.
“Cleo?” I call out, wondering if she is upstairs or playing a prank.
My eyes dart across the room, and they settle on the basement door, slightly ajar. I stop in my tracks, my gaze going to the open door. I take a deep breath and slowly creep toward it. My stomach knots. I never leave that door open. Panic courses through me—I know before I even move that she is in the basement.
With heavy steps, I rush toward the doorway, taking the stairs two at a time down into the dimly lit basement. The basement lights flicker, casting eerie shadows against the cold concrete walls. The air is heavy and musty, carrying a sense of foreboding. As I descend the stairs, the silence becomes even more palpable, intensifying the feeling of dread that hangs in the air. The sight that meets my eyes steals the air from my lungs.
There’s Cleo, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, her blonde hair cascading over her face like a curtain hiding her pain. She’s staring at something—or someone—in front of her. My fists clench as I follow her gaze to the closed freezer.
Cleo, usually vibrant and full of life, now appears fragile and broken, her vulnerability emitting an aura of despair. Panic engulfs me as I realize the gravity of the situation, my mind racing with dark possibilities. As my eyes meet Cleo’s, the realization dawns on me that she has already looked inside the freezer, and that she knows what I did.
“Cleo?” My voice cracks, and I’m careful to keep my distance, remembering how much she hates being cornered when upset. Her green eyes, usually so vibrant, are dull with betrayal and hurt, and it claws at me. I step closer, and she steps back, frightened of me.
“Don’t come closer,” she snarls, her eyes narrowing as she glares at me.
“I would never hurt you, Cleo,” I tell her, trying to remain calm when all I want to do is grab her.
“You think killing Deacon didn’t hurt me?” she scoffs despite her heartbreak.
“You looked in the freezer…” It isn’t a question, simply an acknowledgment of what she found in it.
“Stay back!” she hisses, her voice laced with betrayal as I reach for her. “Don’t touch me, Zayn!” The command slices through me, a direct hit to my heart. I respect it because that’s what you do when you love someone, you give them space, even when every instinct tells you to pull them close.
“Okay, okay,” I whisper, raising my hands in surrender, my skin itching with the need to shift, to let Zarek take over and handle this mess.
“I can explain,” I try to tell her, and she glances at the freezer.
“You lied.”
I shake my head. And something changes in her demeanor, her face twisting with fury.
“It’s not like that, Cleo. You know I would do nothing to hurt you,” I tell her, trying to get closer when her eyes dart around the basement in panic, looking for an escape route. I can see she also knows the only one means having to pass me.
“He’s been here all this time?” she asks, her voice breaking.
“Come upstairs, I’ll explain,” I try to grab her, and she pushes away my hands.
“Get away from me!” Her voice is sharp, like shattered glass, and it stops me cold.
I reach out, trying to brush her arm with the tips of my fingers to offer some semblance of comfort. She recoils as if mytouch burns her skin. “Don’t touch me!” Cleo screams, her eyes wild with hurt.
She makes a break for the stairs, but I can’t let her go, not like this. My hand wraps around her wrist, pulling her back, and her reaction is immediate and violent. She swings at me, her fist connecting with my jaw as I grab her, only for her nails to rake across my cheek, and I taste blood.
“Stop, Cleo! I’m not your enemy,” I try to reason.
