Fifty Three.

Willow

“And we can talk more in the morning. Are you coming to bed?” He asks me as he removes the rest of his clothes.

I nod, I am tired, but my mind doesn’t stop.

I couldn’t sleep. He had his arms locked around me and yet I just couldn’t settle, not even with his comforting warmth and scent. I keep thinking of that note that was on my desk. How it was covered in blood when Zane had found it in the office.

My father was in his bed. But then I had been too busy trying to get my mother to calm down while keeping my brother out of the room to notice anything else. Had he been attacked somewhere else? Had they slit his throat but not deep enough to kill him, just enough for him to lose loads of blood before he started to heal so that they could move him and finish the job and set my mother up as part of it?

I couldn’t even remember if there were other scents in that room. Between my mother’s hysterical screams and my urgency to make her stop. What if I had missed something?

It was weeks la