27. Penn

Chapter 27

Penn

I ’m stomping through the front door, practically shoving Ramsey out of my way as I head upstairs. The house is too damn quiet. Reagan should be here. She better be here. My boots thud against the wooden steps, echoing in the silence.

I’m still worked up from visiting Graham in the hospital and him telling me I can’t kill fucking Memphis Hartford. That I have to let him handle it. If he had fucking handled it and kept Memphis as someone who he only stuck his dick into then this shit would have never fucking happened.

“Rae Rae!” I shout, my voice bouncing off the walls. No answer. If she’s got her headphones in again to supersonic levels, she’s going to get an ass kicking. I kick something hard in the hallway and look down to see her phone skitter across the floor. What the hell? I scoop it up and push into our bedroom, only to find it empty. Just an unmade bed and a sense of dread creeping up my spine.

“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath.

I storm back downstairs, each step vibrating with my frustration. Ramsey’s lounging in the living room, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “She’s gone,” I snap, tossing her phone onto the coffee table. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Relax, man,” he says, not even bothering to look up from his laptop. “She probably just went for a walk or something.”

“Right, because she’s really the ‘go for a walk’ type,” I scoff, pulling out my phone. Time to use the tracker. I tap the screen, but nothing happens. The piece of shit app is frozen. “Goddammit,” I growl, throwing the useless piece of shit at Ramsey. He barely catches it, looking more annoyed than anything.

“Fix this. Now.”

“Chill out, Penn.” He starts fiddling with the phone, fingers moving fast over the screen. “You really need to stop letting her get to you like this.”

“Just fix the fucking phone,” I bite out, pacing the room like a caged animal. My mind races. What the fuck had her dipping out and leaving shit behind? Jesus fuck, after the last night and even before then I thought we were fucking good. I didn’t think I needed to fucking live up her ass.

“Maybe she’s just playing hard to get,” Ramsey says, smirking. “Testing how far you’ll go.”

“Testing my goddamn sanity is what she’s doing,” I snap, running a hand through my hair. “And she’s gonna regret it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ramsey replies, finally looking serious as he continues to work on the phone. “Give me a sec. I’ll get it working.”

“Make it quick,” I warn, my voice low and dangerous. “Or you’re gonna be the next one who regrets pissing me off.”

“You don’t scare me, cousin,” he mutters, eyes glued to the screen. “I’ve got this.”

“Better hope so,” I say, stalking toward the window and staring outside, my mind already racing ahead to what I’ll do when I find her. Because I will find her. And then she’ll learn exactly what it means to cross me.

Ten minutes pass as Ramsey keeps messing with my phone and I can’t wait any longer.

“Grab your shit and let’s go.” I tell him before I walk toward the garage.

I hear him gathering his bag and stomping after me.

“Get in,” I bark, throwing open my truck door. Ramsey doesn’t need telling twice, sliding into the passenger seat. I slam the door shut, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles go white.

“Where the hell do you think she went?” Ramsey asks, fiddling with my phone like it’s a Rubik’s Cube he needs to solve fast.

“St. James,” I growl, slamming the truck into reverse and peeling out of the garage. The tires screech, the sound echoing in the enclosed space. “She’s got nowhere else to go. She sure as fuck ain’t going to her daddy’s. She hates him more than anything.”

“St. James? Seriously?” Ramsey raises an eyebrow, glancing up from the phone. “You really think she’d run back there? You already got rid of her apartment; I just don’t see what she could have on that campus to go back to.”

“Just fix the goddamn tracker,” I snap, hitting the gas pedal. The engine roars to life as we speed down the driveway and onto the main road. My pulse is hammering, something dark twisting in the depths of my gut. “And stop asking stupid questions.”

“Chill, pennywise,” he mutters, eyes glued to the screen. His fingers move in a blur over the phone, tapping and swiping with practiced precision. “You know, I’d never let myself get caught chasing my wife across the state looking like a clown, so the name really is fitting for you right now.”

“Shut up, Ramsey,” I snarl, cutting him off before he can continue. “You’re not helping and all I want to do is gut you and hang you by your entrails so you slowly die while fixing. THE. FUCKING. TRACKER.” The words bite through clenched teeth, each syllable laced with venom.

“Just saying,” he shrugs nonchalantly, though there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m going to fucking kill her,” I shoot back, pressing harder on the accelerator.

“They do say that it is always the spouse,” Ramsey mumbles, focusing back on the phone.

“I can’t let her run. Not now, not ever,” I say, voice low and dangerous.

“Relax,” he replies, finally looking serious for once. “I’ve almost got it. Just keep your eyes on the road and try not to kill us.”

“Keep talking and I’ll make sure you’re the first casualty,” I say, but there’s no real heat in the words. It’s all directed inward. Every ounce of wicked wrath focused on one thing: finding Reagan.

“Yeah, yeah,” he smirks again, but this time it’s strained. He knows the stakes as well as I do. “Just drive. I’ll handle the tech.”

“Good,” I mutter, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Because when I find her, she’s going to have to pay, and I won’t be going easy on her anymore.”

“Got it,” Ramsey announces, breaking the tense silence. His fingers dance across the phone screen, and a smirk curls at the corner of his mouth. “She’s at Wellington Academy?”

“Are you sure?” I ask, though it’s more of a growl. My grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles white against the leather. “What the hell is she doing there?”

Ramsey shrugs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He turns the phone my way, the little blinking dot confirming Reagan’s location. “And left her phone to throw you off. Smart move, really.”

“Smart?” I bark out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, I guess it would have been if she didn’t have the goddamn tracker in her. She thinks she’s clever. Thinks she can just slip away? That’s her little sister’s school. “

“Looks like it,” he chuckles, but there’s an edge to it. We both know this isn’t a game. “Gotta admit, though, leaving the phone in the fucking hallway was dumb. She should have dumped it or given it to someone else.”

“I’m going to kill her,” I mutter under my breath, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, well, at least we know where she is now,” Ramsey says, trying to diffuse the tension. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” I sneer, pressing harder on the gas pedal. The engine roars, matching the feelings inside me. “The plan is to drag her back home and remind her what happens when she breaks deals with me.”

“She made a deal with the devil’s protégé,” Ramsey quips, shaking his head. “She shouldn’t be surprised that he’s pissed when she tries to bail.”

“Exactly,” I snap, frustration boiling over. “First time I leave her alone and she pulls this shit. Unbelievable.”

“Thought you two had something special, like Romeo and Juliet without ya know, the weird underage undertones,” he teases, but there’s no humor in his eyes.

“Special?” I echo, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Special, my ass. She saw something she shouldn’t have, and Robert forbade me from killing her. I tried to be decent to her while keeping her quiet, but she just had to fuck that up. And now I’m fucking mad.”

“Maybe she thought you’d kill her eventually, and this was her chance to run,” Ramsey suggests, half-joking. But we both know there’s a sliver of truth in his words.

“She knows better than that,” I say, though part of me wonders if she really does. “If I really wanted her dead, I had countless ways I could have done it, and no one would have never traced it back to me.”

“Then why run?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Because she’s stubborn,” I reply, jaw clenching. “And because she’s scared. Thinks she can protect herself by hiding. But she can’t. Not from me.”

“Well, guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Ramsey murmurs, turning his attention back to the phone.

“Yeah,” I agree, a dark promise in my voice. “We fucking will.”

“So, what was the plan after graduation, Penn? Let her go? Like how long were you actually planning on being married to her?” Ramsey asks all the questions I have been avoiding asking myself for a while now.

“Let her go?” I scoff, gripping the wheel tighter. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Then why didn’t you fucking tell her that?” His blue eyes flicker with genuine curiosity, but there’s an edge to his tone that grates on my nerves.

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because I’ve been avoiding it myself,” I snap. The word hangs in the air, heavy and loaded. “She’s not just some bitch I married to keep quiet anymore. She’s…she’s Reagan Blackwood. Or at least she wasn’t, but now she’s running off and no one fucking runs from me. ”

“Real poetic, cousin.” Ramsey smirks, but it fades quickly. “Do you seriously think she just took off on her own? I mean every time I saw you too together you were damn near fucking in front of us.”

“Yeah, I do,” I growl. The thought of anyone else touching her makes my blood boil. “No one could’ve gotten to her in the house. They never got to Iris or Oakley, that was all outside of the house. She left on her own.”

“Then why would she leave all her shit behind? Seems pretty stupid, if you ask me.”

“Her ass probably thought I had a tracker on something,” I retort. “She was probably thinking she could outsmart me. But she’s got another think coming.”

“Maybe someone did take her,” Ramsey suggests, his voice quieter now. “You found her phone on the hallway floor, remember? Why would she leave it on the damn floor?”

“You’re grasping at straws, Rams.” I shoot him a glare. “Why the fuck would she be at her sister’s school, then? Makes no sense. She’s grabbing her sister, and they are bolting. That’s it.”

“People do crazy shit when they’re desperate,” he mutters, more to himself than me.

“Desperate or not, no one’s taking her from me.” My voice is low, dangerous. The truck roars down the highway, the engine growling at me to match my own mood. “Reagan’s mine. And I’m gonna make damn sure she remembers that.”

I grip the wheel tighter because I need to hurt something or someone. The frustration gnaws at me like a rabid dog at a bone. Ramsey’s still fiddling with my phone, more useless than a screen door on a submarine.

“What’s this?” Ramsey asks, squinting at my screen like he’s discovered some hidden fucking nerd code. “A folder labeled ‘my wife’?”

“Don’t you fucking touch that,” I snap, my voice a low growl. “You open it, I’ll skewer your eyeballs out and use them in a martini.”

Ramsey just laughs, the sound grating against my nerves. “Relax, psycho. Just trying to ease the mood before you either shit your pants or have a heart attack. Judging by the twitching in your eye, either is liable to happen.” He flicks through the apps, ignoring my threat like it’s nothing but background noise.

“Help by keeping your nose out of my business,” I bite back, eyes locked on the road ahead. Every mile feels like an eternity. Why the fuck does Wellington feel so goddamn far away?

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, finally pulling up the house cameras. His fingers dance expertly over the screen, bringing up the footage. “Let’s see what your wife actually took with her.”

“Better find something useful or I’m kicking your ass out. You can play hitchhiker with your freakishly long thumbs,” I warn, impatience making my blood boil.

“Here we go...” His voice trails off as he watches the screen, a frown creasing his forehead.

“Well? Spit it out,” I demand, glancing over.

“Not even ten minutes before you get home. She’s running out of the house,” Ramsey says slowly, almost disbelievingly. “Shaking like a leaf, man. Is she fucking crying? She’s got no bags or anything with her. Something’s wrong. Seriously fucking wrong, Penn.”

“Let me see,” I bark, snatching the phone from him for a quick glance before tossing it back. Reagan’s face is pale, eyes wide with fear. The only reason there should be tears running down her face is because I put them there. My gut twists, anger and desperation intertwining like barbed wire.

“Looks bad, cousin,” Ramsey says, his earlier humor replaced by genuine concern. “We need to get to her. Fast.”

“Don’t tell me what I already know,” I retort, but there’s no venom in my voice. Only raw, unfiltered determination.

“Alright, alright,” Ramsey says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Just don’t blow a gasket before we get there.”

“Keep your eyes on the screen,” I order, the highway stretching endlessly before us. “And tell me if her tracker moves even a fucking inch.”

“Got it, boss,” Ramsey replies, his expression grim.

“Good.” I focus on the road.

The truck surges forward, the needle on the speedometer climbing higher, matching the frantic pace of my heart. I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white, but I can’t let up. Not now.

“Jesus, slow down before you kill us both,” Ramsey says, clinging to the seat for dear life.

“Shut up and keep looking at that tracker,” I snap back. “She’s out there, and I’m not about to fucking lose her. She’s my goddamn wife.”

“Alright, alright,” Ramsey mumbles, eyes glued to the screen. “But it’s not gonna do us any good if we end up wrapped around a tree.”

“I can drive better than you fucking skate,” I retort, pushing the truck even faster. She’s mine, and no one takes what’s mine. No one fucks with what’s mine.

“Let’s hope she’s alright,” Ramsey says, a rare note of sincerity in his voice.

“She better be,” I murmur, my gaze fixed on the exit that will take us right to Wellington Academy. “Because if she’s not, there’ll be hell to pay.”

When I find out what’s going on, one thing is for certain.

I will rain hell down on anyone, and everyone involved.

Even if it’s my blood.

Even if it’s my own goddamn wife.