Page 91 of Unravel Me

Almost his entire face was covered in blood. I could only see a small part of it. I think he had dark hair, but I couldn't make out anything else. I got the impression that he was a young guy, perhaps nineteen years old. When he was struggling with Rocco, I could see that he was much thinner than the bastard, still having a somewhat teenage build. The man tried to reach out for me, made some gesture, but he was losing consciousness quickly.

The memory of it, the vision of his reaching hand, is a bittersweet picture in my mind, like a precious keepsake.

Somehow that man must have recovered enough to get back on his feet, arrange help for me anyway, and later make sure that this pendant was delivered into my hands.

He never contacted me again after that. I'm pretty sure he was involved with the mafia too, and eventually he simply disappeared into that dark chapter of my past, absolutely quietly…

So why am I even thinking about him now? My hand instinctively plays with my pendant. It's almost like a strange presence nearby that influences me subtly. Like a mind I can sense.

Then…

A passing waiter stops beside me and says, "I was asked to deliver this to you."

I glance around uneasily. As someone who's become a recognizable face thanks to Instagram, I know I have to be careful with gifts from obsessed fans. They can be dangerous.

I lower my gaze to the table.

It's a delicate white orchid in a small ceramic pot, and beneath it rests a folded note.

My lips press together as I glance toward Mark, but he's completely absorbed in his speech. He's an intensely jealous man, and if he notices me paying attention to another man, it almost always ends in a vicious argument.

At the beginning of our relationship, I somewhat liked that about him. He guarded me from other men with fierce possessiveness, proud of my looks, happy to have my attention all to himself, unwilling to share it with anyone else. Back then it made me feel safe, but something has changed between us over the past year. We've grown more distant. He raises his voice at me more often, seems irritated with me all the time, and even our sex life has become rare.

My eyes drift toward his assistant, Colin Miller, standing beside the podium. He's a young, fairly attractive omega with slicked-back hair and cat-eye glasses. He's only been working for Mark a short time after the previous two assistants suddenly quit, though Mark never explained why. This one already seems strangely tense, constantly looking around as if he's nervous, occasionally letting his gaze settle on me.

I lower my eyes again and carefully lift the note between my fingertips, pretending it's nothing more than a napkin I'm moving across the table. I unfold it and find a page covered in small, elegant handwriting.

"Jared,

You don't know who I am, but we met exactly three years, three days, and twelve hours ago. It was one of the worst moments of your life, and my heart broke in half when I saw what he had done to you. I want you to know that I've thought about you every single day since then. It comforts me to know you have someone protecting you from dangerous people. I write this letter only for you to know that somewhere in this world there's a person who believes you're… utter perfection. I don't want anything from you. I expect nothing from you. This isn't a promise of anything I'll do in the future. I only want you to live the best life you possibly can and be happy, Jared… be happy!"

Instead of a signature, I find a hand-drawn sketch of the exact pendant I'm wearing around my neck. But beside it is another piece of it, clearly its missing half. So, when joined together, they will make a heart shape…

My throat suddenly goes dry, and I swallow with difficulty. I look around anxiously, scanning every face, searching for someone watching me, someone paying attention, but everyone's eyes remain fixed on Mark. Then I spot the waiter walking past again and quickly wave him over.

"Who gave you this letter?"

"It came to me through another waiter," he replies. "He said he'd received it from a courier."

But I can tell he’s lying. I pull out a thick wad of cash and show it to him.

"Did he pay you more than this? It's yours if you tell me who he was."

The waiter glances around nervously and swallows hard. "I can't. That person… he doesn't want you to know who he is. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you."

I grab his sleeve before he can leave. "Talk. I'll give you even more."

"He's with the mafia, don't you get it? I can't take that risk!"

He quickly pulls away and disappears into the crowd, leaving me grinding my teeth in frustration.

For some reason, an intense pain surges through me, mixed with disappointment. He saved me and didn't even come near me, didn't look me in the eye, he just stayed hidden!

Where are you, mysterious savior?

Why do you keep yourself at a distance? Don't you understand that you're a symbol of something incredibly precious to me?

You saved my life.