39. Hannah

Hannah

T he funny thing about life is even when everything feels like it’s starting to fall into place, the universe is actually secretly conspiring against you to fuck that shit up before all the pieces ever land.

I am Hannah Gaines. Daughter of Hank and Laura Gaines. Sister of Melissa Gaines. Guilty as sin, just like the rest of them.

Today, I’m just sad.

Sad for Melissa and what she turned out to be, but . . . she was always a little off, even if I couldn’t see it.

Sad that she’s dead, now, and there’s nothing I could have done to stop it.

Sad that I’ve roped Mason into this and now, the threat over our head lingers nearly every passing moment.

When does it all end?

Then I look up and spot a person across the street.

Their hood is drawn low over the eyes, so I can’t make out their features through the rain, but I can tell it’s a woman from the way the soaking wet hoodie clings to her body.

She’s watching me.

“Oh, fuck,” I whisper, stumbling off of the stool.

Anger rushes through me at the prospect of them thinking they can just show up at Mason’s shop and creep on me. I stride toward the front door, prepared to go across the street and give them a piece of my mind.

I’m sick of being tormented by creepy poems and disgusting nightmares. I’m tired of the secrets that we keep uncovering and I’m no longer willing to be controlled.

No one owns me. Not Mom, not Missy.

Not even Mason.

But . . . as I make my way to the front, a truck passes, and when it’s gone, so is the person across the street.

I’m so blinded by the confusion swirling around my mind that when the mail truck pulls to a stop, right in front of the shop, I fall to a screeching halt at the door.

“One package today, Miss.” The mail driver smiles, completely oblivious to the ominous feeling surrounding the shop.

“Thank you,” I murmur, taking it absentmindedly while I stare at the spot across the street where the person was standing.

My heartbeat thuds in my chest, slow and off-pitch.

They were right fucking there.

“Says here I need a signature from a Ms. Hannah Gaines. That you?”

My eyes snap back to the mailman’s, nausea bubbling in my stomach. Finally, I glance down at the package. Sure enough, it’s got my name on the address label. No return address.

Oh, this cannot be anything good.

“Okay,” I stammer, voice uneven and I take the pen from him, signing his electronic handheld.

“Great, you have a nice day, now.”

I nod and then he’s gone, leaving me alone with the creepy box and whatever the hell could be inside.

I look at his back as he retreats. Then the package. Mail guy’s back. Package.

Tap tap tap.

Shit, I’m losing my mind.

I suck in a deep breath, a shudder rolling through me. I check across the street again, but whoever was there is long gone, so I make my way back to my desk.

It’s just a box. What could possibly be inside that’s so deadly?

My first thought is a bomb, but it feels as empty as air.

My second thought is a note.

So what? It’s not like I haven’t gotten a bunch of those already.

“Come on, Hannah. Not like it can get any worse.”

So, carefully, I pull the tape off, opening the box expecting to find a whole lot of nothing, only . . . there’s a card, nestled in a velvet wrapping.

Horror washes through me as I read the sprawling cursive, noted elegantly on a bold embroidered card.

DON’T FORGET TO SMILE.

My stomach drops to my toes, but it’s when I flip the card over and see the photograph nestled there, that I let out a scream.

And that’s when the first shot goes off.

Tap tap tap.

Bullets ricochet around the room and there are shouts, but I can’t tell where they’re coming from. Seconds later, Mason bursts through the door and jumps at me, his body landing over mine against the wall. He clutches me to his chest, shrinking around me while the sounds of warfare ring out all around us.

The front window shatters and I hear a bullet sing as it barrels past us and into the wall, directly above our heads.

The shop window is blown to pieces next and little shards of glass rain down on us as Mason’s grip around me only tightens.

And then . . .

Everything stops, as quickly as it had started.

“ Fuck, ” Mason grits, his hands roaming my body. “Are you okay?”

“I’m . . . okay,” I breathe, my voice locked in my throat as my entire body shakes.

Someone just shot up the shop.

Someone tried to kill us.

“Please tell me everyone’s alive.”

It’s Ian, his voice choked and panicked.

Footsteps scramble behind us and then a quiet shit sounds out from one of the men as they reach us.

“You’re hit,” Puke curses, but not to me.

I follow his line of gaze to the dark red blood pouring from Mason’s arm.

And then I really start to panic.

“Mason?”

I’m up on shaky knees before I can take another breath. I reach for him, but he stops me, a hand on my cheek and his eyes stern.

“I’m fine, little doe.” His voice is rough when it reaches my ears. “It’s just a scratch.”

His blood seeps through the wound, coating my fingers and I barely register the sounds of police sirens as my eyes lock with his hurricane gaze.

Someone tried to kill him.

Because of me.

“Fuck,” he bites again, his hand on my cheek, slipping up to fist in my hair. “Come here.”

He tugs me into him and I go, blood and all, and let him hold me, clinging to him just as hard. I feel undeserving of his love, his comfort but I go anyway because it feels like the world is crashing down around us.

I spot the picture, the white back facing the sky and the photograph against the tile floor.

It’s a picture that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

“Is anyone hurt?”

It’s a new voice, the voice of a cop. Though sweat beads my hairline from the adrenaline coursing through me, a sense of calm sweeps over me. A blackness, tugging me back to unconsciousness.

“Hannah?” Mason’s voice barely breaks through, and a sweeping sensation slides over me like a cloak.

“An ambulance is on the way,” I hear, as more sirens approach, but my eyes stay locked on the little photograph under the desk.

Tap, tap, tap.

“ Hannah, ” Mason tries again, but it’s no use.

I’m already falling into the darkness.