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Dalton is there beside me in an instant, holding me back, trying to calm me down before I have a chance to punch this arsehole right between the eyes. Dalton shouts at Bruno and Gerik, ‘Get that bastard out of here.’
Bruno roughly grabs Arthur and he and Gerik drag him out of the room before he can speak again.
The room is silent except for Dom shouting instructions at everyone. ‘Nothing more to see here, folks. As you were!’
I’m still consumed with rage, but I urge Dalton to let me go. I turn around in circles looking for the only person I give a damn about, but she is nowhere to be seen.
‘Leyna, Leyna, did anyone see where she went?’
Everyone around me shrugs their shoulders. Dom comes up to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. ‘She probably needs a bit of space after that. Try outside?’
I shake my head in disbelief, still trying to understand everything that’s happened within the last few minutes. I rush out of the vice-chancellor’s residence, looking every which way for a sign, any sort of indication as to where Leyna went. ‘Leyna!’ My voice is foreign and broken as I shout for her over and over again.
And that’s when I catch sight of her car tearing off out of the car park and into the distance.
I’m too late—Leyna is gone.
Chapter 42
Leyna
One minute, I can’tmove my feet. The next, I can’t bear to be in this space a second longer.
I run out of the vice-chancellor’s house and down the hill, towards the car park. There is so much adrenaline in my body that if I don’t run, I might explode. The cold air whips across my face but I don’t care. The darkness shrouds itself around my body as I race towards my car. I want nothing more than to be gobbled up by the shadows and to never have to see any of their faces ever again.
My hands are shaking and I’m out of breath as I fumble for my car keys. With trembling fingers, I shove the key into the lock. I need to get as far away from here as possible.
As I drive my mind replays the scene over and over. Initially, I was so shocked by what this stranger was saying to me that I couldn’t even process it, couldn’t make sense of the words. But as it became clearer, my feet became like dead weights, rooting me to the ground, unable to move. Then, like a light switch, I had to run. Run as fast as I could—I needed the hell out of there.
How could another person be so vulgar? What right did he have to shame me in front of all those people? To shame me for something that isn’t shameful. I’m so angry and now the tears are starting to pour down my cheeks. I take deep breaths. One. Two. If I allow myself to cry I won’t be able to see a thing. I need to get a hold of myself. Focus on the road.
I just need to get home.
As I turn onto my estate, I notice that there are more cars than usual and I can hear sirens. As I get closer to the block of flats, it becomes obvious that something is very wrong. There are people milling about on the paths. I park my car on the side of the road and wander over. Maybe someone can tell me something.
I see a woman standing in her dressing gown, in the middle of the road. ‘What’s happened?’ I ask her.
