“Once it’s cleared, I want to know every vehicle that’s entered this lot in the last twelve hours.”
“Someonehadto sit on it,” Nick mutters. Maverick curses under his breath, watching me. Because now I’m not just stepping back, I’m leaving. His eyebrows furrow.
My phone buzzes again. Finally fishing it out, Jeremy’s name lights up the screen. Something heavy settles in my chest. The kind of feeling that comes from instinct and experience.From knowing something’s wrong before you can prove it. And everything about this feels wrong.
“I gotta go,” I mutter and turn, jogging the rest of the way to the Camaro then drop down in the driver’s seat. My phone screen goes black, before lighting up again with Jeremy’s call.
It’s the third one.
The unease in my chest grows, because Jeremy never calls unless something is wrong.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The penthouse feels tooquiet without him. Not empty, but still. The kind of still after something shifts.
Karson left a couple of hours ago after getting a text from Slater. He tried not to wake me when he got out of bed, but I felt his absence anyway. I felt his lips press to my forehead, heard him tell me he’d be back, and heard the soft click of the front door as he left. I’ve been restless ever since.
Deciding I’ve had enough of the quiet, I drag myself out of bed, wrap a throw blanket around me and pad out into the open living area. I move through the space slowly, barefoot against thecool floors. Wrapping my arms around myself, I step onto the balcony, the cool Oregon air biting at my bare skin.
The courtyard below stretches wide and quiet, winter lights still strung along the trees even though it’s early Spring. The outdoor ice rink below is still set up for night skating, and a few people lazily drift across the surface. It’s calm, almost peaceful.
I shouldn’t feel restless but I do. Maybe it’s the silence from Melissa. Maybe it’s the fact that I finally feel solid, stable, and don’t know what to do with myself because of it. Maybe it’s the revelation I had with Karson today, that I think I’ve always been his.
My gaze lingers on the courtyard below. On the benches that line the outer walkway and the quiet stretch beyond the ice rink that curves out of sight. The path wraps around the base of Abbadon and comes back to the main entrance.
I need some air.
No escape or distance. Just a walk to calm my nerves.
Disappearing back inside the penthouse, I quickly throw on a pair of jeans and a thick hoodie before slipping on my shoes. Patting down my pockets to make sure I grabbed my phone and the keycard, I exit and make my way to the elevator.
The main floor hums with life–distant slot machines, laughter and muffled voices–the quiet rhythm of Perdition breathing around me. Following the marbled floors, I make my way to the side door that leads to the courtyard. Uniformed guards scattered strategically across the floor nod as I walk past, and I offer them a wave. My eyes lift to the ceiling, spotting one of the many cameras that cover the floor and smile. I’m safe here. There are eyes everywhere.
Pushing the metal bar of the door, it swings outward and a rush of cold air slips past me as I step outside, sharp enough to sting my lungs. I breathe in deeply. The sound of the casino immediately dulls behind me, replaced by the softer world of thecourtyard–blades gliding across the ice, distant chatter, the faint hum of the string lights overhead. I follow the path slowly, hands tucked into the front of my hoodie. A couple passes me on their way toward the rink, laughing quietly to themselves.
I keep walking, past the benches nearest the main entrance, toward the outer curve where the lights thin out and the noise fades. The further I move from the rink, the quieter it gets. The sounds of movement turn into distant echoes instead of something immediate. The path bends around a cluster of trees, the glow from the building falling off behind me.
For the first time in…I'm not even sure how long my shoulders drop. The tension loosens, and it’s only then I realize how tight I’ve been holding it. I exhale, letting out a quiet laugh to myself at how good it feels to let some of it finally go.
I stop near one of the farther benches, tipping my head to the side as I look out over the lush forest that sits behind Perdition. This place really is beautiful at night. I can’t wait to take this walk in a few months when it’s warmer out, and watch the fireflies dance in the trees.
A breeze rushes past me, making the lights sway gently overhead. I close my eyes for a second, letting the cold air nip at my cheeks. When I open them again, something shifts. The muffled sound of skates on ice fades completely, even the low hum from the building feels far away. I shift my weight, glancing back toward the rink. Still there. My gaze drifts toward the darker stretch of walkway ahead–the one that loops back around to the front of the casino. Nothing moves. And yet…my skin prickles. Like someone just walked over my grave. Staring for a minute longer, I scan the area before shaking it off and pulling my hoodie strings tighter, keeping the cold from my neck, then continue walking.
Silence is a warning.
My footsteps start to slow, not out of fear but awareness. The lights sway again above me, and for a split second, I could swear Ifeelsomething behind me. I don’t turn right away. Instead, I listen.Nothing.No footsteps or voices. No movement through the trees. Just wrongness. Like something stepped into the space I just left. My pulse picks up, slow and steady instead of sharp. Instinct, not panic. I try to take in a calming breath.
You’re being dramatic. There are guards everywhere. Cameras. People skating less than a hundred feet away. Safe. Still–
I glance over my shoulder. Empty. The path behind me stretches back toward the glow of Perdition’s lights. The couple I passed now sits on one of the nearer benches, their heads bent together as they talk quietly. No one else. My shoulders relax a fraction.
Told ya.
I turn back toward the darker curve of the walkway, and the world tilts. Something moves in my peripheral. Fast. Too fast. For half a second, my brain refuses to process what I’m seeing. A shape that’s too close. A shadow that wasn’t there before.
My lips part, but I don’t get the chance to speak before pain explodes across the side of my face. White. Blinding. Instant. The world tips sideways as my body follows the force of it, knocking me down. My shoulder slams into the cold pavement. My ears ring, drowning out everything but the rush of blood and the sharp breath tearing from my lungs.
What the–
