Reed (Book 2, Southern Royals Saga)

Chapter 23: Decisions

I was on a mission.

Finding my aunt and uncle agreeable, I wasted no time with the details of when or how.

I just went.

I sped down Crawford Avenue, an old dirt road I've become quite familiar with. I internally cringed every time I hit a pothole too roughly; Dad would've had a coronary by now had he seen my lack of care with Shelby at the moment. She, and my Colt, were his babies.

But some things were more important.

The house was dark.

Zoey's death had been ruled a suicide by Dr. Kennedy, so, naturally, no further investigation was required.

The front door was open, just as it was left 48 hours prior; the living room was untouched, everything neatly stacked away in its home. The kitchen, the bathrooms, Liv's parent's room, even Liv's room were immaculately made, just as they always had been.

Zoey's bedroom door was closed; I contemplated going in there, wondering if it would reveal what really happened that night.

I push the door open slowly.

My senses were assaulted by a strong perfume, accompanied by a flash of images.

Zoey's lifeless body. An unknown assailant standing over her, happy with himself.

He raped her, that much was obvious from the bruises on her inner thighs.

Then, out of nowhere, instead of Zoey's lifeless body, it became Liv's.

She was raped, before being injected with a fatal amount of heroin.

The sight nearly made me buckle.

Liv's alive. She's in Helena. She's fine.

I left the room and made a mad dash to Liv's; I started with clothes, throwing them into the backseat of my car, hanger and all. I found some empty boxes in the woodshed and packed all I could in those.

Books, makeup, undergarments, even a familiar-looking white ribbon.

She'll never have to return to this place again.

It was past 9 when I made it back to the hospital, which is where I was met with a surprise.

Owen, looking as tired as he was angry.

What surprised me was that he was holding my girl in his arms, who was looking to be sleeping fitfully.

If it had been anyone else holding her that intimately, they would've already met their maker... This was Owen.

From the time we were 12, we had been raised together. As brothers.

If you couldn't trust your brother, who could you trust?

Owen's tired eyes widen as I approach them; he pushes Liv gently off of him, laying her head against the back of the chair.

"Brandon, it's not what it looks like," he started to explain himself, but I cut him short.

"You're fine, bro," I pull him into a tight hug; he was shocked by my display of affection, especially after catching him with my girl.

But like I said... This was Owen.

"You got my message," I conclude, "I didn't wanna tell you that way, but you weren't answering my calls."

"I wasn't answering anyone's."

"Why?"

He shrugged, "I was...angry. Angry at Royce, at Adrian... At you," he gazes regretfully at me, "You kept making my decisions...our decisions."