Sit. Stay. Obey.Chapter 3

I was seven when I first walked into the Ashcroft estate.

I trailed behind my mother, terrified to scuff the marble floors. It looked like a museum, not a home.

"Hah."

I looked up to the mezzanine. A boy stood there, looking like a dark prince in a black turtleneck. He was beautiful and terrifying.

"So this is the mistress and her baggage," he said, his voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. "Dad really scraped the bottom of the barrel."

My mother went pale. I just stared at my shoes, wishing my hair was long enough to hide my face.

"Hayes! Don't be mean!"

A girl in a velvet dress burst out from behind him, beaming like a little sun.

"I'm Lily," she chirped, running down the stairs. "That’s my brother, Hayes. He’s grumpy. What’s your name?"

I tugged at my fraying sweater. "Raine," I whispered.

She grabbed my hand and dragged me up to the boy. "Hayes, say hi to Raine. Be nice."

Hayes looked at his sister with a softness that transformed his entire face. He sighed, defeated by her joy, and extended a hand to me.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay," I said.

His palm was warm. It made my heart race.

With Lily as the bridge, the ice between us melted. Hayes wasn't just cold; he was protective, intense, and secretly kind. He took us to the coast in the summers. He planted camellias in the garden because I said I liked them. On my birthdays, he arranged fireworks over the bay.

I fell in love with him in slow motion, over a decade of stolen glances.

Lily knew. She was my biggest cheerleader.

"He loves you too, Raine," she’d whispered, winking. "I'm going to set the stage. You just get dressed up. We’re going to surprise him."

She skipped out the door to buy roses for my confession.

She never came back.

The police call came two hours later. They found her in an alley three blocks away. She had been assaulted, brutalized, and discarded. Red rose petals were scattered over her body like blood.

At the funeral, Hayes didn't cry. He just vibrated with rage. When he finally looked at me, something in him had died.

"Why was she alone?" he asked. "Why was she buying roses?"

"Because I wanted them," I sobbed, falling apart. "It’s my fault. I’m so sorry, Hayes."

He stared at me for a long time. Then he asked the question that would haunt us both forever.

"Why wasn't it you?"