𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 [18+]

- 40 -

A sharp buzz of my phone drags me out of much-needed sleep, and I groggily ignore it on the bedside table. God, what time even is it?

The sheets are tangled around my body, the space beside me empty but still warm. My limbs ache in a way that reminds me exactly why. A slow, satisfied smile tugs at my lips—until my phone buzzes again. And buzzes. And buzzes.

Frowning, I reach over to grab it from the bedside table, and my stomach drops.

The screen lights up with an overwhelming number of notifications—messages, missed calls, and alerts flashing one after the other like warnings. Forty-plus texts from Penny. Seven missed calls from Mom and Dad. Cherry, Evelyn, and even Nick had texted, all asking the same thing: Where are you?

My stomach sinks. Shit.

I glance at the time—8:30 AM. I got here yesterday at around four pm and then I fell asleep in his bed by cuddling Gunner and woke up around 10 pm and then...

I swallow thinking about last night. Just wow. I fucking know I'm still sore.

I run a frustrated hand through my hair, gripping my scalp as reality settles like a lead weight in my chest. I am so screwed.

The first thing I do is call Pen back. The line rings once, and twice, then goes straight to voicemail. I try again. Same thing. A heavy knot tightens in my gut.

I rush into Val's closet, yanking the first thing I find—one of his shirts. It hangs loose, reaching my thighs, and I throw a hoodie over it, pulling the sleeves over my hands for warmth. Socks. I need socks. The marble floors in his house are cold as hell.

The house is eerily quiet. No staff, no movement. The living room is empty, and cold, like always.

No Beatrice. No William. Not even Gunner.

Where is everyone?

"Val?" I call out. No answer.

Deja-vu.

It's never this silent.

My heart pounds as I head toward the corridor, looking for him. I move through the living room, past the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the tall windows. The house is massive, but I follow a long hallway lined with doors, each one closed. My heart pounds harder with every step. The silence makes me uneasy.

Then, at the end of the hallway, I find it—a room with the faintest glow of light seeping through the cracks. My fingers hesitate on the handle before I quietly slide the door open and slip inside.

Something tells me I shouldn't look inside.

But I do.

And I regret it instantly.

Val.

Sitting behind his desk, one leg propped up over the other, looking like a king on his throne. His face is unreadable, carved from stone, utterly devoid of any emotion.