Chapter 49 Jace
JACE
I glared at my phone, finally striding toward Scarlett’s office. If she wasn’t here, so help me God, I’d show up at her apartment.
Avoiding me? Really?
What surprised me most was how deeply it bothered me.
The realization was unsettling, how I was at the mercy of her choices.
If she decided to never speak to me again, I wasn’t sure how I’d handle it.
Somehow, I knew she’d haunt me, that I’d never stop wondering what she was doing, who she might be with.
The thought of her with another man had me swiping my thumb over my lip as irrational jealousy surged through me.
Worried I’d find her with another man, at this exact moment, no less, was as illogical as it was unrealistic. It probably spoke to how unhinged I was feeling right now. Scarlett had made it painfully clear she didn’t date.
Plus, there were plenty of rational reasons she’d be avoiding me, but my heart was a jealous, possessive beast striding toward her office, praying I wouldn’t find her with some other guy. Because if I did, I’d slam him against the wall and make these bruises on my knuckles look like child’s play.
As I approached her office, my unease deepened when I saw that the blinds that separated her space from the hallway were closed. There was absolutely no reason for that unless she was trying to hide something.
God help me, I steeled myself as I rounded the doorway and stepped inside.
The office appeared empty, but instantly, my gut twisted as goose bumps prickled across the back of my neck.
A framed photo of Buttercup lay on the floor, alongside several awards Scarlett had received.
Books from the shelf were scattered along the ground, some splayed open with cracked spines.
What the hell?
Jealousy and possessiveness evaporated, instantly replaced by cold, suffocating panic. It looked like there had been a struggle, one that left Scarlett’s phone lying haphazardly in the corner.
Holy shit. Did her dad get released from jail and attack her? No. He’d never make it past security into this building, but what the hell happened, and where the hell was she?
I pivoted on my heel, swiping open my phone to call security when something stopped me dead.
A sound. Faint, almost imperceptible.
I stilled, straining my ears, recognizing what it was when it came again: a whimper.
Scanning the space urgently, I heard it again. Striding deeper into the room, I rounded the desk, spotting her high heels lying on their sides, one broken at the base. My gut clenched, and when I heard the soft sob again, I finally caught a flash of skin.
Scarlett.
She was under her desk.
“Scarlett!”
When I dropped to my knees, she flinched violently, throwing her hands up, as if to ward off a blow, eyes wild with terror.
“It’s me,” I said as gently as my rage-infested body would allow, holding my palms up in surrender. Making it visually clear I’d never harm a hair on her head.
My throat tightened at the sight of her.
Scarlett was hiding, tucked beneath her desk, trembling so hard that I could hear her teeth chattering.
Mascara trailed down her cheeks in jagged black rivers, her lipstick smeared across one cheek.
Her usually immaculate blonde hair was tangled, strands stuck to the sweat beading on her forehead.
Long gone was the fierce woman who’d bravely confronted her father, putting herself between danger and her mother.
Long gone was the razor-sharp professional who’d commanded that conference room, playing mental chess with a business tycoon and winning.
In her place was a quivering, fractured human being.
And that … Christ, that unleashed more rage than I’d experienced in my entire life.
I wanted to leave right now, find whoever did this to her, and beat him until his heart stopped beating.
I wanted to break every bone in his body twice over.
Rip off his arm and shove it down his throat.
Violent crimson fantasies I’d never entertained before surged through me with alarming clarity.
I would kill for her, I realized. Without hesitation. Without remorse. All these years of feeling immense guilt for the time I’d taken a life by accident, and now, I’d do it willingly. Gladly.
The intensity of that epiphany shook me, but I pushed it aside. I needed to focus.
“Are you hurt?” I managed, my voice a controlled rumble.
Her wide eyes fluttered shut, and she exhaled deeply. A relieved breath, perhaps, that whoever had done this couldn’t get to her. Not with me here now.
“Who did this to you?” I asked, my fingers flexing involuntarily.
When Scarlett opened her eyes, her gaze was unfocused, staring through me rather than at me. She wasn’t here, not fully.
“Scarlett?”
No response. No change to her almost-catatonic state.
“Scarlett, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk.” For now. But soon, you’ll tell me who fucking did this to you, and they’ll wish they’d never been born. “But I need to know if you have physical injuries that require medical attention.”
Her gaze flickered slightly, recognition seeping in. She wiped her cheeks with quivering fingers, leaving gray smudges across her skin as she shook her head.
Relief flooded my system like adrenaline, leaving me momentarily lightheaded.
“Can you come out, please?” I asked, extending my hand slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal.
She shook her head, shrinking further into the shadows beneath the desk.
“Scarlett, we need to leave. Whoever did this to you might come back.”
Her eyes widened, pupils dilating as her panicked breathing returned—quick, shallow gasps that made her shoulders heave.
“It’s okay,” I soothed, keeping my hand outstretched. “I won’t let him hurt you again.” He can’t do that without a heartbeat. “Can you come out, please?”
She bit her lip, torment etching itself across the planes of her face as she calculated her options: remain hidden where it felt safe or risk exposure to potential danger.
“You used to hide under furniture as a child, didn’t you?” I said, the realization dawning on me.
A slight, almost-imperceptible nod.
“It makes you feel safe.”
Another nod, her eyes brimming with fresh tears.
“You’re safe, Scarlett.” The conviction in my voice surprised even me. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you. But I need you to come out so we can leave. Because if that man comes back …” My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “I will kill him.”
Her eyes snapped into focus then, truly meeting mine for the first time. Wide and worried, but present. She seemed to digest this for several seconds, staring at my outstretched hand as if it might disappear. And then, hesitantly, she gripped my palm.
My God, the flood of emotions that washed through me when her skin met mine.
Her fingers were ice cold, but that small contact burned through me like wildfire.
The trust she placed in me at a moment when she was so terrified she couldn’t even bring herself to leave the shelter of her desk, it humbled me and ignited something fiercely protective deep in my chest.
I’d need to take her to the police. Get security all over this. But we could do neither of those things if she remained too traumatized to speak. Somehow, I needed to stop her panic attack.
And I knew just how to do it.
As I guided her gently from beneath the desk, her fingers tightened around mine like a lifeline. A silent plea not to let go. And in that moment, I made a silent vow that I wouldn’t.
Not today, not ever.