Avenging Autumn Read Free Page B

box.

Chapter Three
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    A UTUMN STARED AT the cardboard box sitting at Chogan’s feet on Wenona’s porch. Her stomach had bunched into a tight little knot and she struggled to swallow.
    “Autumn?” Blake’s rough growl came from down the corridor. While she had jumped out of bed at the sound of the gunshot, it had taken him longer to maneuver himself from the bed and into the chair, in which he now sat.
    She turned her face to him. She thought he was about to tell her the same as everyone else, but instead he said, “Open the box if you have to, but prepare yourself for the fact it isn’t going to be something you want to see.”
    She nodded. She knew that already, but was pleased he wasn’t treating her like some kind of invalid. Mentally, she cringed at her own internal choice of words.
    Bending down to the box, she paused. Everyone around her remained silent; even the birds seemed to stop their incessant chattering. Every eye in the place was upon her, but her whole focus was on the box and what it contained.
    Autumn took a breath and reached out. Her hand trembled as her fingers made contact with the cardboard. It was the type of fold-out cardboard box that could be bought at any store.
    A dark spot had appeared on the outside of the box, and her heart lurched, her breath catching afresh. She thought she knew the cause of that spot. It didn’t matter how long she delayed for, she would need to see what was inside. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she ran from this.
    With shaking fingers, she pulled open the folded lid.
    The smell hit her first—a putrid, cloying stench, like trash left out in the hot, mid-day sun, or road-kill left to rot. She put the back of her hand across her nose, and flicked open the flaps fully, allowing her to see inside.
    Her whole body froze in shock.
    The hand was curled up like a dead crab in the bottom of the box. The hand had been sliced off at the wrist, the open wound raw like a piece of butchered meat. Blood had soaked through the bottom, and dotted on the sides where the severed wrist must have bumped during transit. The fingers were pale, but there was no mistaking the blunt, masculine nails. Every detail stood out to her, the grey hairs on the back of the fingers, the wrinkles around the knuckles, the lines in the palms. But one detail stood out the most—the gold wedding ring around the fourth finger.
    Despite her mother having died years ago, her father had never removed the ring.
    She didn’t want to have to touch his severed hand, but then chided herself. She had nothing to be frightened of. It was just a part of her father—or at least had been—it couldn’t harm her. It was no more than flesh and blood.
    Tears blurred her eyes and she reached into the box and touched the back of his hand. The skin was cold and hard, and didn’t feel human. She needed two hands to pull off the ring, so she used her other hand to hold the back of his steady while she tugged at the metal. The ring didn’t give way to the finger too easily. He’d worn it for years and the change in the texture of the flesh meant it had sunken in slightly. But Autumn swallowed her revulsion and pulled again, and the ring came loose. She slipped the jewelry off his finger and held the cool metal circle in her grip.
    Warm hands met with her shoulders, making her jump, but then she realized it was Chogan pulling her backward, away from the box.
    “It’s all right,” she said, her voice choked. “I’m all right.”
    “Why would Vivian send that?” said Mia, her hand at her mouth.
    Chogan shook his head. “That woman is one sick puppy.”
    Blake’s deeper voice came from where he’d wheeled himself into the doorway. “That’s an insult to dogs.”
    Mia stepped toward the box. “What’s that?” She pointed to a slip of paper, folded into squares and stuck in plastic to the inside of the top.
    “Looks like our sick puppy sent us a note as well as a severed