Casing ✔️

Chapter 23

"That's unfair, and you know it." Nina's voice rang through the whole house when James and I entered. He volunteered to help me pack my stuff the next day, and I couldn't exactly say no to that. Or to him.

He even asked if Damian could help, but when he found out Nina would be home, he quickly made up something about The Gold Rose needing supervision. I could see the disgust in his eyes at the mention of my sister, it was so clear...and I was starting to feel like he wasn't entirely in the wrong for it.

Especially when she went on to say, "Elina's just a little girl, she can't possibly take care of herself out there."

None of them had apparently heard the front door.

Yesterday ended up being a huge blur after dad and Hank left the warehouse. They were supposed to help the cleaning, but didn't and since it was my fault, I offered to help.

Cleaning blood had never been on my list of chores before. Luckily, the bodies were gone by the time I found myself in the middle of the bare floor, with a hose. James made sure I was okay before he left to talk to Damian and Michael, and I was taken good care of by the girl in a pixie cut—who I learned was named Diana.

I could barely remember getting into James' mansion after everything was sorted at the warehouse. I'd heard talks of body dumping—the river versus unmarked graves in the woods, mostly—and saw those men limply fall forward into their own blood again and again, every time I closed my eyes.

I was used to death. I was used to murders. But I wasn't used to seeing it up close, and absolutely not in that way.

So I crashed, literally, on the comfy couch downstairs very soon after making it inside. James made me a cup of tea, but I never got to it before I fell asleep. This morning I couldn't even eat breakfast, and my stomach twisted as we approached the kitchen, where the voices came from.

"Elina made a choice," came dad's gruff voice, and I stopped just around the corner to listen, tugging James back a step in the process. "I can't force her to do anything, and I can't force you, but I can put my foot down and say I don't want any of my girls in danger."

"People heard you compare her to mom," Nina said, and I could practically see her disappointed eyes and her crossed arms. She didn't like bringing up mom any more than I did. "You can't say that stuff in public, with all of the damn Strac's there."

My eyebrows shot up. She was defending me?

James squeezed my hand and urged me forward, but I stayed put. Even though I probably shouldn't eavesdrop.

"I know, I'm sorry about that," dad defended, "but I meant it. Your mother made mistakes and I hate seeing her make the same ones."

I bit my lip and met James' eyes. He'd narrowed his, but didn't say anything, so I had no idea why. I wished I could read him better as I started walking again and peeked inside the kitchen, to say, "I'm here, we're gonna pack," before I turned on my heel to go upstairs.

"Elina!" Dad sounded surprised—and even relieved? "You didn't come home last—"

He stopped talking as James appeared next to me, one arm up on the doorframe, the other still holding my hand. It was as if the two talked with their eyes, asserting dominance. "She was traumatized and needed peace and quiet, not more drama and unsolicited advice," James spat, squeezing my fingers.

"She's grown up in—"

"Inside your house, with a locked door," James finished for him, scoffing. "Our world is scary and dark, and full of death and violence, but being locked up is worse."