Page 35 of Valley
But Snipe was right:not here, not now.
I would finish what I started. When I did, nobody would ever find Asher Collins again. Kezia had threatened Madeline, but could this be tied to her? It couldn’t be, could it?
No, this was just Asher being a massive dick.
The back door creaked open, and Margie stepped out, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m worried about her. She was so upset.”
“I’ll go check on her. Tell Snipe to check the cameras. It’s all on there,” I said, pushing away from the wall, determination hardening my resolve.
Margie grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “You listen to me, Valley,” she said, her voice trembling with intensity. “That girl has been hurt enough by men, including you. Don’t you dare add to it!”
I pried her hand off my arm, irritation flaring at the truth in her words. “I’m just going to make sure she got home safe,” I lied, keeping my expression neutral.
She gave me one last tearful glare before retreating inside. I hurried to my bike, the engine roaring to life as I peeled out of the parking lot. Knowing Madeline she wouldn’t go home, so I headed to the dance studio. I’d shadowed her enough to know all her usual places, from work to the grocery store.
But the studio was empty, dark and lifeless. I drove by her apartment again, anxiety clawing at me. She’d been so upset when she stormed out of the club—what if something had happened to her? Texting her was pointless; she wouldn’t respond.
I needed to find her.
My mind raced through the roster of her friends. Then it hit me: That loudmouth Casimir. He was close to Madeline, but where did he live? I shot a text to Hillbilly, who replied with Casimir’s address, no questions asked. I headed there, the engine growling as I turned into a quiet cul-de-sac, killing the motor to drift silently down the street.
Jackpot.
Her van was parked in his driveway, a soft glow emanating from the house. I parked my bike on the curb and crept up to the window, peering inside. Madeline was curled up on the couch, Casimir by her side, comforting her. A sharp pang of jealousy and regret twisted in my chest as I watched them, and I knew it wasn’t just Asher Collins that had made her cry.
I’d been deliberately hurting her, flirting with women at Twisted Heat, trying to get a reaction. The more she ignored me, the more reckless I became, desperate to see some flicker of emotion from her so I’d know she was still mine.
I’d lost my fucking mind, but I couldn’t stop it, and it was what it was.
With a heavy step, I made my way back to my bike, settling onto the seat. I would wait for her to leave and make sure she got home safe. She deserved that much, at least.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Chapter Twenty-Two
LAST NIGHT’S EVENTSstill clung to my mind like a stubbornshadow as I pushed Ellie in her stroller towards the dance studio. Thank God for Casimir. His steady friendship and comforting shoulder to cry on had given me the strength to face the world today.
Telling Dad I quit my job loomed over me. I’d think of an excuse and hope he wouldn’t be too suspicious. It was liberating to know I had finally done it.Yes, things would be tougher, but my conscience was clearer, my self-esteem stronger.
The conversation with Casimir had been a revelation. I hadn’t been happy since I started working there, and admittingit felt like shedding a heavy burden. Dancing isn’t inherently bad; it’s about personal choice and happiness.
It wasn’t a choice that made me happy; I wasn’t cut out for it.
The moment I pushed open the studio door, a blast of cold air hit me, making me shiver. I picked up Ellie, her weight a comforting reality in my arms, and flipped on the light switch. The fluorescent lights flickered hesitantly, casting jittery shadows that amplified my unease.
The studio was eerily quiet, save for the soft sounds of my footsteps and Ellie’s occasional babble. I looked toward the mirrors lining the walls and they seemed to warp and twist, reflecting a distorted version of reality. The barres stood like silent sentinels against the mirrored walls, their reflections thin and ghostly.
I settled Ellie in her portable crib; her giggles contradicting my rising anxiety. As I began stretching at one of the barres, a pricking sensation at the back of my neck made me feel as if I were being watched.
To calm myself, I turned on some warm-up music.
The beats filled the hollow space, bouncing off the walls and momentarily easing my nerves. But then, from the corner of my eye, I saw the end of the window curtains flutter, even though there was no breeze and was that a shadow?
I swallowed hard, my fear escalating.
Ellie clapped her tiny hands to the rhythm, her joy piercing through my dread. I turned off the music, the sudden silence amplifying the chill in the room. A sense of unease settled over me, heavier than before.
A subtle creak from above, like someone tiptoeing in the storage loft, made my heart skip a beat. I strained to listen, every muscle tensed. Another whisper, faint but distinct, called my name.