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“Her mother might not be able to physically drag her back,” I growl, “but I can.”
Dom twists his lips. “I put a tracker on her phone.”
I snap my head toward him. “What?”
“I did it one of the times I snuck into her room.”
Why is he telling me this? Because if he really doesn’t want her back, he’d keep this little piece of information a secret.
“I’ll send you the link to the app and the login details. Even if she’s not here, it’s probably a good idea to keep track of where she is, you know, in case it looks like she changes her mind.”
I stare at him. “Right.”
I wonder what Kirill is going to make of all this. He’s going to be really fucking angry. I don’t want to say I’m afraid of him, but sometimes he makes me nervous. It’s like a sheet of ice comes down over him, freezing out any emotion other than rage. Nataniele has already hurt Dom—would Kirill do even worse?
I war with my emotions. If I just go and find Mackenzie and bring her back, Kirill might never even need know. Would it make him even angrier if he didn’t find out? Knowing we’d deliberately hidden something from him? I don’t know what would be best.
I can’t believe I’d thought I could live without her. Seeing her convulsing on the ground had torn my heart from my chest. I want her. I want to be with her, and hold her, and kiss her. I want to make her better, though I know that’s impossible. I want to shelter her from the world and ensure nothing ever hurts her again.
Then what about us? What about Dom? Does he still want to hurt her? What if I bring her back and then I have to protect her from him?
The possibility twists my insides. We’ve always been in this together. I don’t want anything to come between us, especially not a woman, but she’s not just any woman. She’s ours. Everyone else has faded into the background.
Chapter 7
Mackenzie
I’ve been on the road most of the day, and I’m exhausted.
I pray Mom’s car won’t break down anywhere. If that happens, I’ll be completely screwed. I might still be able to sleep in it, but I won’t be able to go anywhere, and right now my plan is to get as far away from Verona Falls as I can. The car is old, but so far it’s been reliable, so I’m praying at least this part will go my way.
I deserve some luck.
Doing this is so wrong. I’m not supposed to drive unless I’ve been seizure free for a certain period of time, but damn, I need to get away. If I get a warning sign, I’ll have more than enough of a chance to pull over if the worst happens. I wouldn’t put other people in danger, but I know if I get caught, I could get arrested. I am being careful, and I pull into a rest stop after my first two hours of driving to take a nap and rest. I want to avoid my symptoms at all costs.
The thought terrifies me, so I stick to the speed limit and keep my eyes peeled for any cop cars. It’s not as though Mom will report the car stolen—she’d never risk having that kind of attention put on me—but something else might catch their eye.
As I drive, I torment myself with memories of the Devils’ kisses and their touch, how I’d felt worshipped when I’d been with them. They’d made me feel like a stronger person when I’d been around them, as though I was someone special because they’d chosen me. Now I cringe at the thought. I bet everyone else in college was grimacing and shaking their heads at me as I passed, pitying me, thinking I was just another little victim in their game.
My thoughts go to Verity. She’d done me wrong—had put my life in danger—but had she deserved the humiliation at their hands? I think how frightened she must have been when they pinned her down, the three of them, so big and strong. She wouldn’t have known what they planned to do to her. She’d have been terrified. Perhaps she’s the one person I shouldn’t be feeling any empathy toward, but she was one of their victims, too. She loved Dom, despite how fucked up he was, and he’d thrown it in her face.
I need to hear a friendly voice. Camile has been a good friend to me, but she knows too much, and she’s a part of their world, or at least her family is. Plus, she’s got the fact that she warned me about the Devils to hold over me, and I hate that she was right. I made out like I could protect myself, protect my heart, but I’d been lying, perhaps to myself as much as her.
I decide I’m going to buy myself a burner phone. I’ve got my old cell phone with me, but I dare not use it. Then I’ll find somewhere to stay for the night. Once I’m settled in the room, I’m going to call Lola. I know it’s incredibly risky, but I won’t tell her where I am or anything that could give away my exact whereabouts. I just really need someone to speak with. I feel like I’m losing my mind. As if I’m screaming inside my head at every moment. I can’t do this alone, I just can’t.
I’ve got enough money to refill the tank a couple of times. I hope it’ll get me far enough. I’m telling myself the ache in my heart will lessen with distance. I’m probably lying to myself, but I’ll take whatever solace I can right now.
After another ninety minutes of driving, with a detour for snacks and a phone, I spot a small motel hidden away on the corner of a half derelict looking block. It’s the kind of place I’d usually shy away from because it looks as shady as hell. Shady as hell is what I need right now, though. Plus, the rain that started an hour back is getting heavier, and I don’t want to be driving through it. I pull into the parking lot and slot the car in an empty space outside a worn and weatherbeaten door. I don’t even know what town I’m in right now. Behind me are the bright lights of the reception area. Grabbing my purse, I climb out of the car and jog over, not wanting to get wet. The air is biting tonight, and I pull my coat around me as if I can shield myself from the chill deep inside me as well as a chill in the air.
I push open the heavy door and step into reception. There’s a woman behind the desk, with faded red hair and kohl-rimmed eyes. She’s chewing gum, and she looks at me as she blows a bubble, popping it loudly and pulling it back into her mouth.
“Can I help you?” she asks with a drawl.
“Do you have any rooms?”
She lets out a rough laugh that turns into a choking cackle. “Darling, the one thing we always have here is rooms. Take your pick. Do you want to be on the upper echelons of this fine establishment, or will you take the ground floor?”
I glance out at the rapidly darkening parking lot again and a shiver runs down my spine. “Is there someone here all night?” I ask.
