Chapter 23
Violet
“We can’t just sit here and do nothing.” I threw the pictures onto the table, hard enough that it skimmed across the surface and almost fell off the other side.
Ryder pressed his finger to one, pushing it back towards the centre. “That’s exactly what you’re going to do.”
I wanted to scream, to figure out what everything meant. The pictures. The articles of missing children and young women. Why on each one mum had drawn a flower eerily similar to the design on my necklace.
“I can’t just sit here. I won’t.” My voice cracked. Energy rattled against my ribs like a trapped animal, and hiding in Ryder’s flat wasn’t helping. “Mum needs to get out, and—”
“And what?” Ryder snapped. “There’s nothing you can do.” He seemed just as agitated as I was, playing with his butterfly knife like it was a toy. The knife opened and shut in a restless rhythm, the light catching the blade like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to show off or stab something.
“She isn’t safe there,” I said quietly, my mind still reeling.
“Safe?” he laughed. “She’s in a padded room and constantly monitored. There were six cameras on the corridor before we even got to the door. Nobody’s walking in.”
“There were men outside, waiting.”
Ryder’s eyes found mine, so hard they resembled granite. “What do you mean men? As in at the hospital?”
“I—”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” His hand dragged over his face in exasperation. “Christ, it’s like you want to be taken.”
“Mum isn’t safe there, so I think we should call the police. Maybe they can—”
“No.” The word slammed the air between us.
“Ryder, they’re—”
“Violet, I said no.” I froze at his harsh tone as he finally stopped flicking the stupid knife. “We’ve discussed this; you can’t trust the police.”
“But I can trust you?” The words were out before I could stop them, but that didn’t make it any less true.
When Ryder spoke this time, it was calmer, but still held a tone that made me want to bite back. “There isn’t anyone else, Violet. I didn’t ask for this, just like you didn’t. But we’re stuck together until we figure out who wants that USB drive so fucking much.”
“Figure out who’s put a hit on your head, you mean,” I said flatly.
His face was severe as he stared me down, all sharp edges and a jaw locked tight, carving harsher lines into already striking features.
Then there were those infuriatingly gorgeous eyes. A brown so decadent it felt unfair. They were rich and endless, like melted chocolate catching the light. But right now, there were shadows that hinted at something darker beneath the surface.
He glanced down at his phone, some of the tension easing from his frame as he slid it back into his pocket. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, grabbing his leather jacket, the one I’d immediately tossed over the sofa like it had personally offended me.
“Wait, you’re just leaving me here?”
“This is a five-star establishment, princess.” He walked over to his office, closing and locking the door with an audible beep. “So make yourself comfy.”
“Did you just call me a princess?” A scoff caught in my throat. “Where are you going? What if something goes wrong? I can’t even contact you!” I protested, but it fell on deaf ears.
“No one knows this place even exists. My name isn’t on the paperwork, so you’ll be fine.”
“Ryder…”
But he was already gone, the front door slamming shut behind him.
I let out a low, frustrated sound, glaring at the empty space where he’d stood moments before. I wasn’t some helpless princess locked in a tower waiting for a prince to come save her.
If Ryder wouldn’t help me, then fine. I’d find someone who would.
“Phone, phone, phone,” I muttered, eyes locked on the closed office door. I crossed the room quickly and pressed down on the handle, only for it to beep and flash a sharp red light. “Shit.”
The bedroom was my next stop, but the drawers held nothing but clothes. Under the bed I found sports gear, boxes of random jewellery that definitely weren’t his, and disturbingly, a forgotten pair of lace underwear I had zero intention of touching.
Ew.
The kitchen wasn’t much better, with utensils, cutlery, and other boring but expected essentials. Then, in the last drawer, I spotted a few stray pens… and a key.
My hand hovered, hesitating before my fingertips brushed against the metal.
He’d said he’d be gone a few hours. Enough time to slip out, call the authorities, and be back before he even knew I’d moved.
If I decided to come back.
Grabbing the key, I left, making sure to double check it worked before locking the door behind me. The late afternoon sun washed the sky in shades of pink and mauve, the cool air teasing my bare legs as I began to walk down the street.
I caught sight of my reflection in a shopfront window. Barely presentable, drowning in a man’s T-shirt, hair tangled and wild. Shit. I really should have changed, but my thoughts were a mess, everywhere at once.
If I didn’t stumble across a police officer soon, someone was bound to call one on me.
Of course Ryder lived in a nice neighbourhood, where there wasn’t a police presence on every street corner. It took me twenty minutes of walking to find a police car, running over to see if anyone was inside.
“Can I help you?” a man grunted behind me.
I spun, relief sparking for half a second before it dimmed at the sight of the officer’s frown.
“Yes,” I rushed out. “I think my mum’s in danger. I want to make a statement.”
He looked me up and down like I was an insect, his gaze dragging far too long over my bare legs before it finally reached my face. “You do, huh?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing the disgust. “Yes. Her name’s Greta Sonne. She’s a patient at The Willowmere Centre, beside St Bart’s.”
“The psych ward?” The officer shrugged, opening his car door to toss something onto the seat. “Look, you’ll have to go to the station or make a direct complaint to the centre.”
“No,” I snapped, stepping forward. “I need to make this statement now.”
His eyes narrowed, as if my insistence was the real inconvenience here. “Is she in any immediate danger?”
“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, heat rising in my chest.
“Are you in any immediate danger?”
His questions didn’t seem to show concern at all, more like dismissal. Frustration surged sharp and hot, and I had to swallow hard just to keep my panic from breaking loose in a rush of words I couldn’t take back.
I couldn’t exactly explain the details so out in the open…
He’d think I was mad.
Fuck.
“Look, take a seat in my car while I call this through, okay?” he said, opening the back passenger door.
I crossed my arms defensively. “No, I think I’ll stand.”
“Suit yourself,” he grunted, leaving the door open for me anyway. Leaning inside the car he reached for the radio, repeating mum’s name and the centre. “Yeah, she’s showing signs of distress,” he continued into the handset before returning his attention to me. “What’s your name?”
“Violet Sonne.”
He conveyed the information, seemingly able to understand the muffled static that replied. “How much alcohol have you consumed this evening, Miss Sonne?”
“Excuse me?”
“Is there a problem here, officer?”
Dread twisted through me as I turned to find Cedric standing to the side, cutting off my escape and boxing me against the police car. I went to move, but his hand clamped onto my waist, dragging me flush against him.
The officer finally stirred, his frown deepening. “Is this your wife?”
“I’m not his—” I shrieked, but Cedric’s hand tangled in my hair, yanking at the roots so hard it stole the rest of my words.
“Apologies, officer,” he said smoothly, tightening his grip until my scalp screamed. “But I think I’ll be taking my wife home now. You know how they can get.”
I winced, struggling in vain, his arm cinched tight around my waist.
“She’s had a few too many drinks,” he added with a mocking smile, and that alone seemed to relax the officer. His arm flexed against me, breath hot against my cheek as he bent to whisper, “If you scream, I’ll have the man watching your mother at Willowmere take the shot. Do you understand?”
The pressure on my hair forced a gasp out of me. “Yes,” I whispered back, my voice breaking.
“Don’t worry about it,” the officer chuckled. “My wife’s the same. Can’t handle her wine, you know.”
“Now thank the officer for his time, Violet,” Cedric murmured in a tone so light it was almost friendly.
“Thank you,” I forced out, trying desperately to catch the officer’s eye, but his gaze slid past me, already locked in an easy conversation with Cedric.
A few more pleasantries, and then the officer slipped back into his car. Only once it had pulled away did Cedric release my hair, though his hand stayed possessively tight around my waist.
“How did you find me?” I demanded, forcing my body not to tremble. “What do you want?”
Cedric’s fingers pinched my jaw, forcing my chin up until I met his cold gaze.
“I want you to take me to Ryder.”