“Dammit,” I curse, racing back to the staircase. “Wade? Is that you?”
The door continues to crackle and groan until the faceplate springs apart. Then the entire latch system bursts, sending pieces of metal flying down the stairs. Wade flings the door open, jamming a foot against the door and thrusting out a hand.
“I couldn’t find your dad, but found this,” he says, holding up a pry bar.
My eyes widen as I race up the stairs and out the door. “Where in the world did you find that?”
“One of the rooms your dad’s been fixing up. Abigail tried to throw it at me,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me from the room. “Come on, we need to get the hell outta here.”
Blood trickles down his face, evidence some of the chaos caught up with him. “You’re hurt,” I say, reaching out and hovering my fingertips above the wound.
“Yeah, picture frame. You wouldn’t think those damn things could hurt so much,” he mutters, rubbing at his head. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. I’ll live.”
Swallowing hard, I drop my hand and exit the stairwell. My bedroom looks like a bomb has exploded. The window is completely gone, and my curtain rail hangs at an odd angle as the remnants of the curtain flutter lazily in the breeze. Glass covers the floor and every footstep I take crunches ominously, like I’m walking on the bones of the dead. My bed is tipped on its side and every single drawer on my dresser is open to some degree. Nothing is where it should be. Books, lampshades, my laptop—everything is scattered across the room like someone picked it up and shook the contents.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, unable to stop looking.
“Yeah, it’s not the worst of it. We need to go—” Wade says, dragging me out of the room.
I follow him out into the hallway on some sort of dazed autopilot, but my awareness catches up with me when I see one of the large family pictures of my dad on the floor. He’s younger, barely sixteen, I’d guess, as he stands beside an older man and woman—my grandparents, I’d gather. Though I’ve never met either of them.
“Oh my god, my dad—” I sputter, suddenly dragging my feet. “We need to find him. He needs to get out of here, too.”
Wade shakes his head, turning around and placing both hands on my shoulder in the middle of the hallway. “I’ve looked everywhere, Autumn. If he’s in this house, he’s doing a helluva job hiding. Maybe he has a panic room or something for situations like this. He’s obviously a grown man who knows to take care of himself during something like this. We need to go…”
The walls begin to rattle, but everywhere I look, things are knocked over or broken. Picture frames, knickknacks, items I haven’t even given a second thought to—like the grandfather clock—are already strewn across the floor.
“Why is she doing this?” I cry out, covering my mouth.
“I don’t know, but we can figure it out later.” Wade takes off down the hallway, carefully jumping over items on the floor.
I follow him, treading gingerly so I don’t do any more damage. So many family heirlooms are shattered into pieces, and I have no idea if they’ll ever be restored. My heart breaks for my dad. This house is everything to him... He’s going to be so upset.
When we reach the main entryway, I pull up short and cover the cry of surprise springing from my lips. The grand staircase dangles from the upper landing as if it was twisted in two different directions.
“How in the hell?” I sputter.
Wade shakes his head. “I don’t know. I was trying to find your dad. When I ran up the stairs, it was like they were trying to buck me off.”
“I should go up there. Maybe my dad’s—”
Wade grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door. “It’s not safe. Not the stairs and definitely not this house. Your dad can handle himself.”
A strange, eerie chuckle echoes through the entryway. Suddenly, the temperature of the space drops by at least twenty degrees.
“We’re leaving, now,” Wade asserts definitively. Without letting me even attempt the hunt for my dad, he practically drags me from the house kicking and screaming.
The door groans, giving him some trouble at first, but he somehow manages to get it open. The second we’re outside, the cool, fall breeze ruffles my hair, lightening the pressure against my chest. I hadn’t noticed just how heavy the energy was in there, but it was almost suffocating.
Wade races down the front steps two at a time, reaching his Impala and opening the passenger-side door.
“Get in,” he demands.
I do as he says, taking a seat without question. Closing the door, I stare at the dashboard, unable to divert my gaze from it to look at the manor. Everything has been turned, literally, on its head and I have no idea what I’m going to do.
Wade hops into the driver’s seat and tears out of the driveway like we’re being chased by hellhounds. And maybe we are.
My heart clenches, and in the pit of my stomach a new kind of terror emerges.
What if Wade’s wrong? What if my dad’s not safe?
What if after all of that, Abigail’s hurt him…or worse?
Tears well up in my eyes, and I’m suddenly consumed by this fresh terror as it washes over me.
My dad and I have hardly had any time together. I’ve barely even scratched the surface of who he is, or our family history.
I haven’t heard anything from him. What if he’s hurt or dying inside and I’m leaving him there to die alone?
Chapter 12
The Space Between Us
“Come on, Autumn. We need to get inside and regroup,” Wade says, standing beside me with the passenger door wide open.
I blink up at his outstretched hand. I don’t remember the drive or arriving at his apartment. Hell, I don’t even remember him parking the car and getting out. Reaching for his
