Picture Perfect - Page 180

I’m not even surprised by the scene before me. Drawers hang limp like broken wings, their contents vomited out onto the hardwood floor. Pictures and porcelain dolls, torn from their perches, gaze up at me with glassy eyes full of betrayal. I step over a sea of clothes and shattered picture frames, each one a crack in the facade of a happy childhood that never was.

“God, what have they done?” Chess mutters, his voice low and dangerous.

“Looking for anything to use against us,” Saint’s growl vibrates through the room, his arm brushing mine in silent solidarity.

“Or maybe just to hurt me more,” I murmur, my fingers skimming a shredded shirt. The memories are thick here, suffocating, but there’s no time for them now.

“Focus, Princess. What are we looking for?” Saint’s voice is a tether pulling me back to the task at hand.

“Something they’d never think was important.” I let go of their hands, moving toward the shelves that once held my most prized possessions. The twin voids left by Saint and Chess’s absence are instantly filled by determination. I start sifting through the knickknacks, each one a piece of a life I’m so ready to leave behind.

“Did they break much?” Chess asks, hovering close, his tone laced with barely suppressed anger.

“Doesn’t look like it.” I can’t help but scoff at the small mercy. “They were too busy playing detective to play vandal.”

Then, there it is. Among the scattered remnants of my past, the clock stands unassumingly, untouched by their grubby, desperate hands. I reach for it, my fingers tracing the familiar intricate carvings on its wooden surface.

“Got it,” I announce, a surge of triumph cutting through the heaviness in my chest. “This is it.”

“Are you sure?” Chess peers over my shoulder, his brow furrowed.

“Positive.” Clutching the clock like a talisman, I turn to face them, allowing myself a moment to acknowledge the victory, however small. “Because that seems like something you could have just told us about, not something you had to retrieve yourself.”

“Alright, let’s not waste any more time here,” Saint says decisively, casting a wary glance towards the doorway as if expecting an unwelcome interruption at any moment.

“Sorry,” I reply, tucking the clock under my arm. “There’s one more piece.”

I head into the closet and reach behind the pedastal’s mirrors, pulling out boxes. Finally, I find what I’m looking for. An old shoebox, faded with time. I brush aside the dust, a symbolic gesture more than anything else. Inside, buried beneath layers of forgotten trinkets, I find them—the boots. My fingers curl inside one, feeling for the hidden treasure.

“Here,” I whisper, withdrawing a small, unassuming external hard drive. It’s cold to the touch, yet it burns with the power of retribution.

“Got it?” Chess’s eyes reflect the gravity of the situation.

“Got it,” I confirm, clutching the hard drive tightly.

We’ve barely taken another step when Wesley blocks the doorway, his posture rigid with rage. “This is all your fault!” he seethes, pointing an accusatory finger that quivers with unchecked anger.

“Easy, Wes,” Dre warns as he comes up behind my adoptive brother, his voice as cold as the steel in his gaze. “You don’t want to do this.”

Wesley scoffs, but the sound is hollow. “I’ve been kicked out of school because of you freaks. And my father…” He chokes on the words, his veneer of superiority cracking. “He had to buy my future back.”

“Should’ve thought about that before you tried to hurt Addy,” Saint says, stepping forward, a dark avenger in the dim light of my ruined room.

Chess’s hand finds the small of my back, a gesture that grounds me. “We don’t have to be your enemy, Wesley. But keep pushing, and we’ll show you what we can really do.”

“Watch your back, Adelaide,” Wesley spits, his threat hanging between us like a guillotine blade. “The deal was already done. You’re not safe, not anywhere.”

“Neither are you if you don’t get out of the way,” Dre’s warning is a silken menace. I know he means every word.

“Come on,” I say, sidestepping the wreckage of my past, pulling strength from the three who stand with me. “We have what we came for.”

With a final glare that promises retribution, Wesley steps aside, and we pass him, leaving behind the chaos of a life I’m ready to forget. I’m Adelaide Saint now, and nothing else matters.

“Let’s get this over with,” I murmur, more to myself than the boys flanking me. Saint nods, his jaw set with determination, while Dre and Chess exchange grim looks.

Mason stands by the black SUV, his presence solid and comforting. His eyes meet mine, and there’s a silent exchange of understanding. He’s been a constant in the chaos, a pillar of strength when everything else seemed to crumble.

I approach him, the small SD card feeling like the weight of the world in my palm. I hold out the harddrive and show him the SD card. “Mason,” I start, my voice wavering slightly, “This is everything. All of it. But… I need a favor.”