I key in Zoe's birthday to the doorknob, the latch opening without any resistance.
Fucking idiot.
Who uses their partner's birthday for their lock code?
However, while an alarm should be going off right now, it isn't.
And that's the worrying part.
I ease the door shut behind me, pulling out my gun. As I creep through the front hall, I check the other rooms, making sure they're clear. At the end of the hall is the kitchen. It overlooks the beach.
Standing in the middle of the kitchen with her back to me is Zoe.
I lower the gun, even though it might be a bad idea. She could turn around with a gun in her hand and have it pointed at me. This could all be a setup. They could know that I'm in the house.
I let out a slow breath, and Zoe turns, her spoon stuck deep into a container of ice cream, her stomach rounded like she stuffed a basketball beneath her shirt.
Her eyes grow to the size of saucers as she takes me in, but it's quickly clouded by anger.
I should shoot her now. Get revenge for her turning against me.
But she's carrying my little niece or nephew.
Not to mention there's something about finally seeing my little sister again that has every reasonable thought in my head coming to a screeching halt.
Neither of us says anything to each other, both just staring.
Fuck.
This isn't what I came here for. This isn't what I thought was going to happen, but it seems like all my plans are going to shit recently, so I should've expected this.
Zoe moves first, putting the ice cream down and reaching for the knife block.
Chapter Fifteen
SUMMER
I should've run faster.
If I had run faster, I might not be back in this shithole, waiting for the moment they're going to kill me.
I certainly wouldn't be here, thinking about the way Noah's scent isn't as strong as it was on the new sheets. I wouldn't miss the smell of his cologne wrapping around me while I wait for someone to tell me what's going on.
Or waiting for someone to kill me.
Or whatever else he has planned for me.
Though, I don't know why he would save me from Robert if Noah's plan is to kill me. He told me he was going to sell me to a man worse than him. Whoever Robert is, whatever he's done, for Noah to think it's so bad he has to save me is worrying.
Not that I wasn't capable of saving myself. I did get out of this house once.
I don't think I'm going to have a chance to do it again, though.
I get out of bed, pacing around the room. My heart races, and my chest tightens. It gets harder and harder to take a breath. A hand has to be squeezing all the oxygen from me. Either that or my lungs are failing. He slipped me something, and I'm dying.
Hector looks at me from where he's sitting in the corner of the room. "I shit my pants once when I was high."
I stop pacing and look at him, a laugh slipping out. "Excuse me?"