Finding Life | Finders Keepers #2 ✔️

29. Bad Luck

Blythe

The next building to my apartment building was at a good distance away to not be noticed and it was also abandoned. I had known that it was sold to someone since the landlord couldn't keep his mouth shut when he was showing us to our place. It was apparently going to be turned into another apartment building but the construction plans towards it haven't been officially planned.

It was actually a good thing that it was still abandoned. It allowed Castillo and Nickson to be there for a while and keep an eye on him. The windowless room that they landed on provided more space for them to see directly over to our apartment. They have more access in seeing over to Dean's room and the living room; and probably because he also knows that this building is abandoned, he keeps his windows open, allowing for them to see him clearly.

Right as I went over, Nickson was just eating a bag of chips while watching the living room. Dean and Luke were on the couch, sitting so far away from one another, and watching something in the television. Castillo was on the ground, his laptop open as he view the surveillance all around.

Castillo glances at me and waves, a smile on his face. "Drama?"

I'm pretty sure that they just witnessed Dean and I's argument and the aftermath of leaving Dean and Caleb alone in the apartment.

"Like you wouldn't believe," I sign back to him.

He chuckles. "Have you called Antonio?"

Right! Fuck. Shaking my head, I pull out my phone in my back pocket and type in Antonio's name, calling him instantly. He answers after the second ring. "You with Nickson and Castillo?" Humming in response, he starts, "Okay, from now on, I'm going to make Castillo follow you. They've bene briefed, you don't have to tell them what's the plan."

"What?" Castillo gives me a sympathetic look and I just can't help but irritated. Not at him, but at the situation. "I don't need protection, Antonio. I need protection for—"

"For your boyfriend, I know," he cuts me off, his authoritative tone rising. "We've uncovered your files at your orphanage. Your first one, Saint Angel House. Do you remember what happened there before you left at ten?"

I've been through different orphanages because I ran away and countless of foster homes where the parents would always give me back, telling those in charge that I was too difficult to work with and that it was better to never take me in. Saint Angel House was the most fucked up place I was left in. At a young age, the nuns were good enough to take care of us but assholes enough to ignore the bullying that happened in that place.

Naturally, I was the weakest because I was among the youngest. There was a girl older than me, I think—because it has been a long time and most of what happened to that place was blocked out—her name was Rachel, that protected me as much as she could. As far as I remember, she had a bright blonde hair and blue eyes. I seem to remember her getting adopted when I was eight. Two years later, I ran away.

"A little," I answer. "You know I don't talk about what happened. It's too fucked up."

It was. At four, I had my first nose bleed because some fucking kid pushed me so hard on the ground while my back was on them. At five, they kept me inside a closet for hours until one of the nuns looked for me at bedtime and she even blamed me for it. Like I said—too fucked up.

"Yes, well, it's come back to haunt you again and you don't have a choice."

Raking my hands through my hair, I turn away from the two men in front of me, not wanting to show how pissed I am already. "What did you find at Saint Angel?"