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Every freckle.
Every toned muscle.
I store it in the back of my head for when I’ll inevitably need it, because even when we’ve been apart, Ace has always been my guiding light.
I swallow the sob that rises up the back of my throat, as if by not showing weakness it will make this easier on Ace somehow, but just as I know I’m not going to be okay, I know he won’t be either. Because he’s the other half of me, just the same way I’m the other half of him, and the only thing I can find solace in right now is the fact we had time together that I never thought we would.
His eyes meet mine, the determination behind the green proving just how far he’ll go for me. He’d go to the end of the earth if it meant he could save me. Too bad I’m beyond salvation.
“Pick her up, it’s time to get out of here. The jet will be waiting.”
My entire body stiffens at the idea of being put on a plane to an unknown location, but I force it to relax. It will only hurt me more if I’m tense, and considering this time I know what I’m in for, I’d like to limit any unnecessary pain.
The guard that triggered my panic attack earlier today throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing at all, but I still wince on impact. I need to get used to people manhandling me again, to them not treating me like I’m human, but instead an object for them to throw around.
I lift my head and meet Ace’s panicked gaze, but it’s not his eyes that have my heart in my throat. It’s the tears falling against his cheeks. I’ve never seen Ace cry. Not when our foster parents would hurt him, or the night he said goodbye like we weren’t sure we would see one another again, or even when I’ve repeatedly tried to leave since he found me.
But the idea of losing me again is too much for him.
I squeeze my eyes shut to warn off my own tears before meeting his gaze once more. There are a million things I want to say, but none of it feels like enough, not when he’s done everything for me. Not when he saved me in more ways than one. Not when I know losing me is going to kill him. But I force out the only words that feel right, and the ones I wish I’d said more in our time together. “I love you.” They come out on a choked whisper, but I don’t care if Kyle and his goon hear it. It would do him some good to know I’ll never feel this way about him, no matter what he does to me in the time between now and when he ultimately kills me. “Don’t look for me, Ace. Live. I want you to live. For me.”
Each step we take away from him is another crack to my already shattered heart. It’s like I’m being torn apart from the outside in, and the tears I tried so hard to hold back fall.
Ace struggles against the chair so hard the legs slam against the hardwood floors over and over again, but there’s no point. It’s too late. “Mia,” he calls out, but we’re almost at the elevator, which means our time is up.
“I mean it, Ace. Don’t come for me. I need one of us to live. To really live. Please.” I’m begging now, pleading with him for one of us to have the life we dreamed of when we were kids. But it won’t be me. It was never destined to be me.
“I can’t,” he chokes. “Not without you.”
I hear the moment doors slide open and my heart lodges itself in my throat as I look Ace over one last time. One final look to last me the rest of my life.
We step into the elevator but I hold Ace’s gaze until the final second as the doors slide shut.
And then he’s gone. Just a memory for me to hold on to until my dying breath.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
ACE
Watching the elevator doors close and Mia fade from view is more painful than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. I thought it hurt the first time she slipped through my fingers, but I was wrong.
Nothing could ever hurt as much as failing her for a second time.
I tip my weight, desperate to chase them, to follow close behind and make sure they don’t disappear into the night, but first I have to get the fuck out of these binds.
The chair clatters to the hard floors and my shoulder aches from the contact, but I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck about anything but making sure Mia doesn’t have to live a life of misery.
I tug at the ropes, hoping the wood at my back would have given way between the ground and my heavy weight, but I should be so lucky.
Fucking Saint James family having good quality shit. Almost any other chair would have broken, but of course not this one.
And where the hell are those assholes? Surely, they should be here by now.
I try to shuffle toward my desk. Maybe if I can just get to my computer, I can track them. It won’t be easy without the use of my hands, but I’ve worked with less.
By the time I get to the desk, I’m out of breath and sweat drips down my bare chest. Why does this chair have to be so fucking heavy?
But I’m running out of time. They have too much of a head start, and it’s making the panic in my veins that much more prominent.
