Chapter Twenty-Six
I’ve called Colt multiple times.
But he’s still not answering.
Dammit.
My pulse quickens as the cab speeds toward the Rutherford Regent Hotel in Berlin. Did I screw this up by leaving the way I did? I press my phone to my chest, willing it to ring, but nothing. The closer I get, the more anxious I feel.
It’s nearly one in the morning. There’s a good chance the after-party is still raging in the penthouse suite. Either that, or they’re still at some club, lost in the high of post-show adrenaline. But I’m not wasting time searching. I’m heading straight to the hotel.
I need to see Colt.
I need to apologize for being a brat.
When the cab pulls up to the curb, I pay the fare with shaky hands. The moment I step out, the crisp morning air cools my overheated skin. I inhale deeply, but it does little to settle the knot in my stomach.
Colt not answering my calls has me on edge.
What if he doesn’t want to see me?
What if I have ruined everything?
The driver sets my luggage beside me, and I grip the handle tightly, forcing myself forward. I don’t have a key card for the penthouse, so I’m banking on someone being there to let me in. Otherwise, I’ll be stranded in the hallway, waiting and hoping.
As I approach the suite, the thumping bass of music bleeds through the door, vibrating beneath my feet.
My heart pounds harder—part nerves, part excitement.
In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve missed Colt more than I thought possible.
A smile tugs at my lips as I picture his strong arms pulling me close, his lips grazing my neck, his warm breath against my skin.
God, I love him.
Shaking off the daydream, I raise my fist and knock.
Nothing.
I knock again, louder this time, straining to be heard over the music. A few agonizing moments pass before muffled laughter drifts through the door. Then, finally, it swings open.
Anna.
She blinks at me, her expression unreadable—annoyance flickering across her face before she angles the door, blocking my view inside.
I arch a brow, offering a slight grin. “Anna, are you drunk?” I tease, trying to slip past her.
She doesn’t move. Instead, a flicker of something else, something sharp and uneasy, crosses her face.
Then I see it.
Fear.
A chill runs through me, my stomach twisting as my pulse spikes.
Oh fuck! Something’s wrong.
“Dee, you should wait next door. Colt’s in a… a meeting, and as soon as he is, well, free, I’ll send him to your room. In fact, I’ll come with you to catch up. C’mon, let’s go,” Anna says in a rush, sliding her way out of the door without opening it any further.
I thrust my foot between the door and the frame just as Anna tries to close it. A wave of unease crashes over me.
She doesn’t want me to go inside.
Which only makes me more determined.
Her expression is guarded, her body angled defensively, and the way she hesitates—grasping for excuses—only fuels my suspicion.
My stomach tightens.
I knew I shouldn’t have left the way I did.
Colt must be inside, drunk, and passed out on the floor. That has to be it. And Anna, in some twisted attempt to protect me, is trying to spare me from the guilt of seeing what I caused.
But I don’t need protecting.
I need to see him.
And I’m not leaving until I do.
“Anna, I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Dee, just trust me. Let’s go next door,” she says, taking my arm and trying to pull me toward the suite.
I rip my arm from her grip, my pulse spiking. She’s scaring me now. Something is wrong. I shove past her, forcing my way through the door so I can see what’s really going on.
“Dee. Dee, wait!” Anna calls out frantically, following me inside.
The room is a blur of bodies.
Women—half-dressed, some not at all—lounge across every surface, draped over couches, tangled in sheets, lost in the haze of alcohol and desire. My pulse skyrockets as I shove my way through the mass of bare skin, my breath coming too fast, too shallow.
I need to find Colt.
Panic claws at my chest as I push through the chaos, flinging open doors one by one. Each bedroom is the same, with bodies entwined in every way imaginable, laughter and moans blending into the pounding bass of the music.
But no Colt.
By the time I reach the last door, nausea churns in my stomach. My fingers tremble as I twist the handle, dread pooling in my veins. The door swings open, and the first thing I see is the beer bottles, dozens of them, scattered across the floor.
Then my gaze lifts to the bed.
And my heart drops through my chest.
The air is sucked from my lungs, a choked gasp escaping before I can stop it.
No. No. NO.
Anna grips my arm, but I can’t move.
I can’t speak.
I can’t breathe.
I’m frozen.
Shattered.
Hux and Colt sit back in nothing but their briefs, Jessi sprawled naked across their laps like a living fantasy.
Hux’s hand moves between her thighs, fingers gliding over her skin as she writhes beneath his touch. Colt, with a lazy smirk, tips a shot of tequila into the dip between her breasts, then presses them together before running his tongue up the slick trail, savoring the taste of salt and liquor.
A lime wedge rests between Jessi’s lips, her breath heavy with anticipation. Colt leans in, plucking it from her mouth with his teeth before shifting downward. Without hesitation, he lowers his head and snorts a line of coke straight off the curve of her stomach.
I stumble back, the world tilting beneath me.
Too many emotions crash over me at once, colliding and twisting in my chest like a storm I can’t escape.
I don’t know what shatters me more…
The fact that he’s doing drugs.
Or the fact that Jessi is sprawled naked between them.
Or maybe it’s the nauseating unknown.
How far have they gone? The thought alone has bile rising in my throat. My stomach clenches, my body heaving as a strangled cry rips from my lips.
The room stills.
Three sets of eyes snap to me.
Colt’s bloodshot gaze locks onto mine, his pupils blown wide and glassy. His lips part, my name spilling from them, thick with confusion. “Dee?”
Like he doesn’t understand why I’m here.
Like he doesn’t realize he’s just broken me.
A sharp laugh cuts through the tension.
Then another.
Hux and Jessi—drunk, high, and completely unbothered—start laughing.
But I can’t…
Think.
Breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Because the man I love just became a stranger. I’m floating—disconnected, weightless—yet a gale-force wind tears at me, dragging me away with ruthless force. I cling to something invisible, but the agony of the ride is unbearable.
Fight or flee.
My body chooses to flee.
I spin on unsteady feet, desperate to escape, but the moment I move, it feels like I’ve been turned to stone—heavy, immovable, sinking under the weight of my own heartbreak. Still, I force my way through the tangle of limbs, my hands shoving, clawing, but everything feels distant, muffled.
I can’t breathe.
The walls are caving in, pressing against my ribs, squeezing my lungs until each frantic inhale is useless. My head pounds. My vision blurs. A high-pitched ringing drowns out the music, the laughter, the sound of my own gasping sobs.
I need to get out.
I stumble through a doorway, my trembling fingers finding the cold metal of the balcony rail. Gripping it like a lifeline, I lean over the edge, gulping in the chilled air, but it does nothing to steady me.
Nothing can.
Tears burn my cheeks, hot and endless, mixing with the salt on my lips. My chest heaves, the erratic pounding of my heart too loud, too fast, as panic grips me tighter.
I can’t breathe.
Oh God…
I can’t breathe.
“Dee.”
A faint noise rings in my ears as a hand touches my back, trying to soothe me.
It doesn’t work. I’d rather be dead than feel this pain, and I instantly know that thought is unhealthy.
He does this to me—I’m irrational when I am around him.
My hands grip the railing so tightly that severe pins and needles bite into my hands, but I like the pain. It helps to know I am still alive.
“Dee!” My name is muffled, and I have no idea who’s saying it or where it came from.
I need air.
I let go of the rail, only to stagger. I can’t see as I run my hand along the wall, then crouch over and rest my hand on my knees, trying to inhale.
It’s not working.
Despair.
Grief.
Anger.
Pure, unadulterated anger surges through me as I straighten and face the wall. I still can’t see through the tears, and my heart is ripping through my chest violently. Resting my head against the wall, I bang against it in despair.
Anything to make this pain go away.
“Dee, baby.”
His voice cuts through the chaos, through the storm raging inside me.
And I want to hurt him.
I want him to feel even a fraction of this unbearable, gut-wrenching agony—to drive a knife straight through his goddamn chest so that he can know what this feels like.
But nothing, nothing could ever make this pain go away.
I need something.
Anything to stop the ache from swallowing me whole.
I yank my head away from the wall, my body shaking, my thoughts a tangled mess of pain and rage.
Then, without thinking, I slam my forehead forward.
A sharp burst of pain explodes through my skull, momentarily cutting through the agony in my chest.
I welcome it.
Crave it.
The physical sting drowns out the unbearable ache inside me.
I do it again.
A crazed laugh bubbles up, escaping before I can stop it. My vision swims, something warm trickling down my face, but I don’t care. I want this pain to take over—to consume me—because it’s the only thing I can feel that isn’t him.
Suddenly, strong arms rip me away from the wall, wrapping around me. I thrash, fighting to break free, swinging mindlessly.
I still can’t see…
But I know it’s him.