Page 73 of Ruthless Possession
"We need to secure the house," I tell Morgan quietly. "Greyson's coming with backup.
She nods, her arm tightening around Charlie. "Do whatever you need. We'll be here."
In the hallway, I relay the information to Matthew. "They're sending three of ours. We'll need to clear those men out before the authorities arrive."
Matthew's jaw tightens. "If Harris is watching, he'll see us moving them."
"Then let him watch," I say, something cold settling in my chest. "Let him see what happens to people who threaten what's ours."
We return to the kitchen where Caiden still stands guard over the three intruders. Their faces have gone slack with resignation now, the fight drained from them as they've had time to contemplate their situation.
"We've got company coming," I announce, keeping my voice neutral. "When they arrive, you'll be escorted out quietly. Make any noise, give any reason for my friends to be unhappy, and you'll regret it."
The youngest one, the one Matthew caught, looks like he might throw up. "Are you going to kill us?"
"No," Matthew says, his voice deadly calm. "But Harris might, when he finds out you failed."
Headlights sweep across the front windows. I move to peer through the blinds, confirming it's Greyson's truck followed by Mason's. Two vehicles, just as promised.
"They're here," I tell Matthew. "Let's move."
We open the front door as Greyson climbs from his truck, Mason and Zach following close behind. Even in the predawn darkness, their faces are hard with purpose.
"Status?" Greyson asks, his voice carrying no farther than us.
"Three inside. Hired help, not Harris.
Greyson nods once, then signals to Mason and Zach. The three of them follow us inside, their boots heavy on the hardwood floor. The atmosphere in the kitchen changes instantly. These men carry a presence that makes our captives shrink further into their chairs.
"Gentlemen," Greyson says, his voice quiet but commanding. "Let's take a walk."
We begin moving them out one by one, hands secured behind their backs. Matthew takes the lead with the youngest, while Zach handles the middle one. I follow with the leader, the one who seemed most comfortable in his role earlier.
We're on the porch, halfway to Greyson's truck, when I see it.
Mason stops abruptly ahead of me, his posture shifting to alert. "What the fuck is that?"
I follow his gaze to the center of our porch. In the glow of the security lights, the sight freezes the blood in my veins.
A deer's head, freshly severed, sits directly in our path. Its dead eyes stare upward, mouth frozen in a grimace. Blood pools beneath it, dark against the pale wood of the porch. And impaled on the deer's antlers is a note, written in what looks like black marker.
My hand goes to my gun as I scan the darkness beyond the yard. Nothing moves in the shadows, but I feel the weight of someone's gaze like a physical pressure.
"What does it say?" Matthew asks, his voice tight with controlled fury.
Zach moves closer, careful not to touch the grotesque display. He reads the note aloud, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble.
"'Whore. You've let them sully what should have been mine. The child belongs with her father. You belong with me or no one. Your time is running out.'"
Rage explodes through me, white-hot and all-consuming. Harris was here. While we were dealing with his distraction, he was right here, leaving his sick message.
"He was watching," I say, my voice barely human. "The entire time."
Morgan appears in the doorway, her face pale but determined. "What's going on? I heard—" Her words cut off as she sees the deer's head, then the note. Her hand flies to her mouth.
"Go back inside," I tell her, my voice leaving no room for argument. "Now."
She doesn't move. Instead, she steps onto the porch, her eyes fixed on the grisly scene. "He was here," she whispers. "While we were in there."
