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But they probably don’t understand the concept of voicemail because they’re calling again.It’s probably some relentless telemarketer trying to sell me an extended warranty for a car I don’t own or some other scammer.
By the third call, I dare to check my phone.It reads:Unknown.
With a defiant flick of my finger, I dismiss the call, again.My lip curls into a triumphant smile.“Not today, unknown scammer.Not today.”But the persistent caller doesn’t seem to get the hint.My phone blares once more, the screen flashingUnknownat me like a defiant challenge.
Soon after, a text message pops, its words appearing harsh and cold on the bright screen:Answer the fucking phone.We might need to move you.
The text feels like a splash of ice water, making my blood run cold, sending a chilling shock through my veins.I’m not part of the program.No one should be moving me.Questions flood my mind.Who is messaging me, and what could be the reason behind it?
The phone rings again, and this time I pick up the call, my heart drumming an erratic rhythm against my ribs.
“Hello?”
“What the fuck did you do, bitch?I need you to give me all the information you have if you want us to save you.”A gruff male voice crackles through the speaker, sending a jolt of fear snaking down my spine.
Swallowing hard, I force out a response.“Umm, who is this?”I try to keep my voice steady and casual, hoping that this is a case of mistaken identity.
Suddenly, a sharp knock at the door drowns out the ominous silence on the other end of the call.Startled, my heart pounds forcefully against my rib cage, sending waves of adrenaline through my veins.
Glancing toward my bed, I reassure myself that I am awake and not trapped in one of those eerie out-of-body nightmares my patients have recounted.Let me be clear, it’s not that I doubt their stories.I simply haven’t encountered such phenomena firsthand.
“Who is this?”I inquire once more, my voice trembling with anxiety.
“I’m calling on behalf of Bill Hill,” the gruff voice on the other end replies, breaking through the escalating panic that grips me.
Without hesitation, I abruptly end the call.This should not be happening.How did they discover my existence?
The name alone is enough to unlock the door, maybe it’s Bill.Not that I’ve spoken to him in years, but something is just not right, I can feel it.My trembling fingers grasp the doorknob, twisting it hastily without even sparing a glance at the peephole.Though, I’m not ready for what’s on the other side.
Greyson Decker and Sanford Bancroft—the last two people I ever imagined would resurface from my past—stand right in front of me.
A gasp escapes my lips, and I lower my gaze to the screen of my phone.The stark realization hits me at once.If San and Grey managed to track me down, it means that anyone else could too.My past is colliding with my present, and my future, if it still exists, looks increasingly grim.These guys need to run before things take a turn for the worse.This time I won’t let anyone hurt them.
“Fuck,” I mutter quietly, my words barely audible, just as Greyson envelops me in a tight embrace.It feels both like a greeting and a farewell, as if he knows we’re about to stand in quicksand.In that fleeting moment, I let myself surrender to the comfort of his embrace, treasuring the warmth and familiarity that washes over me.It’s a hall pass, before I have to pack my things and ...What am I supposed to do now?
Suddenly, he releases me too soon, taking a step back with a hastiness that catches me off guard.His gaze shifts to Sanford, and with a chilling undertone, he utters, “Take care of her.Don’t fuck it this time.”His voice carries a chilling undertone, leaving me with an uneasy feeling.
Though I would love to stick around and try to understand what’s eating at him, I have to leave it to his boyfriend, husband or ...whatever their relationship is now.
“You should leave too,” I gently suggest to Sanford, motioning towards the staircase.“Grey doesn’t look well.You might want to check on him.”
Sanford sighs heavily, scrolling through his phone with swift, practiced movements.“Grey is on his way downstairs.Keep an eye on him, please.I’m staying here, but FYI, something doesn’t feel right.”
The way he says it reminds me of the handlers we had while we were under the marshal’s jurisdiction.
“If you can gather a few men to watch the building, that’d be—” San presses his lips together and cocks a brow staring at me as he nods to whoever is on the other side of the line.“Then gather a team.We’ll evacuate her immediately.Yes, it’ll be the first thing I do right after this call.”
Sanford’s gaze shifts to my phone, and he asks, “Can I?”He doesn’t wait for my consent.He grabs it from my hand, drops it onto the floor, and crushes it.
My heart races as I gaze at the shattered remains of my phone, disbelief etched across my face.“What the fuck is wrong with you?”I exclaim, my voice filled with a mixture of anger and fear.
“Bill Hill was found dead.Whoever did it has the information of the last person who was in contact with the Carlton family before their deaths.Someone called from the cell phone tower close to Bill’s house to your number,” he explains, pointing toward my feet while crouching to retrieve the broken device.“Get your shoes on, grab your bag.We need to leave now.”
“I can’t just leave,” I protest, my voice quivering with apprehension.
“Look, I’m usually patient.”Sanford’s voice cuts through my objections like a warning.“Under different circumstances, I would be holding the fuck out of you, telling you how much I miss you and how happy I am that you’re alive.However, we’re running out of time.”
“You can leave,” I insist.
