Calvin lifts his hands in surrender, which only makes him look guiltier. I figure it’s best we leg it before this turns into a full-blown drama and Sergei starts chasing me like a bloodhound.
I grab Tiffy’s hand, pulling her through to Oscar’s villa.
At the front, Oscar checks the street, then holds up his hand.
We wait in the shadow of the wall, holding our breaths until he waves us on. We sprint for Tiffy’s car the second Jay and Sergei disappear inside.
I collapse into the seat. Tiffy cranks up the AC and hits the gas, a cloud of smoke forming as we take off.
Fuck.
Why is it always one shitstorm after another?
Chapter thirty-eight
Yosh
Iwake to a soft sound. My vision is still blurred, but I recognise Laurent standing by my bed. He sets a glass of ice water on the nightstand.
“How do you feel?”
“I’m okay…”
It’s something I offer to keep things looking fine. It isn’t. I’m barely able to get out of bed in their guest room.
My body has decided we’re back there. PTSD crash. Full force. I haven’t felt this bad in years.
Laurent stays quiet, his gaze lingering, taking inventory. It makes my skin prickle.
“Sorry about this,” I say, clearing the roughness from my throat.
Laurent sits on the edge of the bed for a moment, then stands again. He doesn’t know what to do or say.
I hate myself.
“Yosh, come on. You’re family.” He exhales. “And I’m really sorry. We should’ve kept our place safer. I’m already fixing security.”
The guilt in his voice lands heavy. I squeeze my eyes shut. It doesn’t help. SeaBreeze flashes back, and everything after it, looping endlessly.
Ugh. Their kindness feels awkward. I know he and Erin mean well, but their concern, their pity, I can’t stand it.
Still, being alone would be worse. Erin is the right person to help me.
I should be grateful. I hate that I should be grateful.
“I’ve got to head to SeaBreeze,” Laurent says. “Erin will be here in about an hour. Try to get some sleep, alright?”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Thanks, Laurent.”
He rests a hand on my shoulder before leaving the room. The front door slams shut a little later. I turn onto my side and close my eyes. Maybe sleep will help, or maybe the jasper and obsidian beside my pillow will.
Time blurs. Minutes pass. Or longer.
The front door opens again, and slams so hard the house shudders. My eyes snap open wide. The glass of water on my nightstand ripples.
Voices echo down the hallway. If that’s Erin, she’s not alone.
I hold my breath, listening to footsteps that don't belong here. Each step, each door opening and closing, sets my nerves on edge. They’re moving from room to room.
