Not you.
Not Owen.
Both.
With each re-read, a knot grew heavy and uncomfortable in my stomach. For all my attempts to make this obsession not a thing, Vincent knew. I didn’t know how, but he did.
How much did he know? Did he know about my obsession? My inability to let him go? The way I faltered and invested too much? Or maybe the way I went above and beyond—far beyond the Society standard?
I drew in a sharp breath. Anger flared hot beneath my skin as the shock faded abruptly.
The absolute audacity.
He’d sat across from me in his office without saying a word. Instead, he left me with a severance letter and instructions to read it in a few weeks when he wouldn’t be around.
The fucking audacity.
There was no way in hell I was just going to walk away from the Society without some kind of explanation. Getting out of the car, I stormed right back up the walkway and into his house.
CHAPTER 17
Owen
What the hell is this?” I demanded as I went right back to his office. I dropped the letter on his desk and pointed to it. “What the hell does this mean?”
Loud laughter from the kitchen only worsened my mood. I didn’t like being laughed at.
“I told you that he wouldn’t wait!” Elena called from the kitchen, making Vincent chuckle. “That means I win!
“Yes, you do,” he replied loudly. “Pick your reward, sweet love of mine, and I’ll pay up later.”
“You bet on this?” I snapped. That fact only made the whole situation worse, like I was their personal source of entertainment.
“To be fair, I thought you’d at least wait a week,” Vincent commented. “Perhaps, I underestimated your impatience a little.”
His amusement pissed me off.
“Do you find this funny? Am I fucking funny to you?”
“Sit down, Owen.” He gestured to the chair. I hesitated for a moment before doing as he asked. I wanted to just stand there and yell, but I knew nothing would come of it. That wasn’t how Vincent had conversations. Hell, that wasn’t how I usually had conversations. I seemed to be losing all the control I prided myself on. “No one is laughing at you, my friend. I promise.”
“Why are you firing me?” I asked once more.
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m freeing you.”
Freeing me.
I stared at him, certain I’d somehow misheard the words. He was freeing me fromwhatexactly? My job? My title? My position here? The Society had been the center of my life for years. I had shaped my entire life around being part of the Society, which made Vincent's casual claim to be freeing me from it insulting.
Was this truly about freeing me? Or was this about protecting himself? Protecting the Society? Did he think I’d become a liability because of Liam? Did he no longer trust me?
Heat climbed slowly up my neck as my jaw tightened. My thoughts twisted, each possibility somehow worse than the last. I wasn’t prone to spiraling, but clearly, I wasn’t thinking straight either. It didn’t help that Vincent had this tendency to speak in riddles when he thought he was being profound. Normally, I didn’t mind it. Right now, however, I was dangerously close to reaching across the desk and strangling him for it.
“I don’t want to be freed,” I snapped.
“Liam Baker.” They were the only two words he said—the only two he needed to say—to deflate my anger. Every argument on the tip of my tongue died almost instantly.
He wasn’t trying to take anything away from me. He was trying to remove obstacles for me. And honestly, that didn’t help the situation any.
