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“Is it a code word?” Adira asks, returning to the living room after taking a few minutes to change out of his gown and into something more comfortable. “One of those for me?”
“Yes.” Riot hands him a tumbler.
“I have no clue what Phoenix is supposed to be.” I hang up and sit down. How many messages have I left at this point? Ten? Twenty? It’s been over two hours since the police hauled Rogue away.
“Do you want?” Riot teases me with one of the tumblers.
“Mmm. No.” I still don’t feel good. Actually I feel worse. And the bodice of my wedding dress feels constricting even though it keeps slipping down. I need to remove some of the excess energy and emotion from my body before I scream.
At least the adrenaline coursing through my system is taking the edge off the almost constant nausea. I stand up again and pace the length of the blue runner still in the middle of the living room. My feet are bare. I kicked off my heels a little while ago. “There’s the bird and the state.”
“There’s the guitar brand,” Riot adds before he takes a drink. “They make pretty decent instruments.”
“I’ll try Marty again.” I light up my screen. But I’m on three percent battery life. “Damn it. I need to charge my phone.”
There’s a power bar over here.”
I hand Riot my device.
“Miss Love.” Jackson brings me a mug of something hot from the kitchen. “Chamomile. It’ll help with the shock.”
“Thanks.” I sip the warm drink as I go back to pacing while he returns to being a living statue at the edge of the room.
I knew that Nicole would try to hurt me for defying her. I knew she would go after what was most precious to me. I just never thought she would be capable of… having someone beat almost to death in order to make it happen.
“Fuck,” Rebel bellows as he and Summer come barging back into the apartment.
“I take it that it didn’t go well.” Riot pours out two more measures of amber liquid. Then triples the amount in one of the glasses.
“You could say that.” Summer’s shoulders slump as she takes off her coat. “We couldn’t get anywhere near him. And there is media everywhere. It’s almost like someone tipped them off.”
“That’s because they did,” I say. “Rogue called me from Jason’s phone. He said Nicole is setting him up and that I need to get hold of Marty, but she isn’t answering her phone.”
“Yeah, Jason just called on the way up in the elevator and filled us in. He says they won’t let Rogue out on bail. They’re going to hold him.”
“At least the victim is still alive,” Riot says.
For now. But how long will that last? I slump into the closest chair. Bury my head in my hand. “This is because of me.”
“No. No.” Adira crouches in front of me. He takes both my hands. “Look at me, sweetie. This isn’t your fault. You can’t help that that woman is a villain. You don’t deserve to suffer for it. You didn’t do anything wrong. You just… fell in love.”
“What if the man dies?” I steal a hand back to wipe at my eyes. I know that what he is saying is true. But Nicole warned me and I chose to ignore it. What happens if I don’t heed her now?
“Hey. Hey.” Rebel lowers his voice, tries to smooth the roughness out of it. “Let’s not assume the absolute worst.”
“What do I do?” I stare into my best friend’s eyes. He’s always protected me, but this time he can’t. “My mother is behind this, and I don’t…” But, I do know what she wants. All I have to do is sacrifice everything I hold dear and marry Nathaniel like she wants me to. All I have to do is fall into this pit of despair that I can feel forming inside me at the very thought of breaking my promise to Rogue. But what good is a promise if he’ll be behind bars. “I can stop it. I can make it all go away.”
“No,” Rebel snaps. “I promised Rogue that I would keep you safe.”
“Are we really worried about my safety when Rogue’s the one they arrested?” My voice grows louder and higher. I’m not the one my mother wants behind bars. At least not those type of bars. She has a different, more gilded cage she’d rather see me in. That’s the reason she’s doing this.
“Do you really believe you hurt yourself, Love?” he asks me point blank.
The words, my breath, everything sticks in the back of my throat. Do I really think I hurt myself? “You want to talk about that now? I don’t know what it has to do—”
“Did you or did you not… hurt yourself?”
“I tried before…”
