Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chloe
F acing forward once more, I step back into the kitchen to find Holden hunched over the laptop on the kitchen island, his golden curls falling forward.
When I pause in the doorway, his head lifts, and warmth spreads across his freckled cheeks in silent invitation. “Hey. Everything okay?”
“That’s what I came back in to ask.” I join him and grip the edge of the counter. “Did you find anything?”
If Holden uncovered spyware, it means Louie planned to monitor me here. But what if it’s not new? What if he was watching me suffer while I was still being held captive? What if every time I thought I was alone, he was violating my privacy in the worst way possible?
The thought makes my skin crawl.
“Chloe?” My name snaps me out of my thoughts, and I find Holden studying me with concern. “Did you hear me?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”
“I was saying,” he repeats, his words soft as vanilla cake, “that from what I can tell, the laptop appears clean.”
Appears. That one word sticks in my mind, a stubborn splinter that refuses to grant me peace.
Holden must sense my unease because he adds, “But to be safe, we should probably recycle it, anyway. Dispose of it for good.”
“That’s a good idea. But…do you think it’s safe to retrieve my story from it first?” I want back the words that gave me solace when Louie had me locked up. They were a way to escape my imprisonment. “Everything else can burn for all I care. But I need that file.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” Holden turns back to the laptop.
As he works on transferring the file to a thumb drive, the glow from the screen flickers across the planes of his face, highlighting the curls brushing his ears and the thick fan of his lashes.
How could other Omegas not realize he was the prize of the Misty Pines pack?
“So,” he says, tone casual, “how did your breakfast with Dominic go?”
The question catches me off guard, and my cheeks warm with a telltale flush. Does he know? Did he see me almost kiss Dominic?
“It went well,” I squeak. “We’re working through things.”
“That’s good,” he says softly. “I’m glad you two are talking again. Dominic’s been through a lot.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
Holden runs a hand through his curls as he hesitates, as if debating how much to reveal. “Just that he’s not the same guy he was back then. He’s worked hard to become someone better. Someone worthy of love.”
He leans against the counter, his broad shoulders hunched slightly. “His therapist suggested contacting you back in college, but he refused. He was so sure that interfering in your new life, even to apologize, would hurt you more.”
A lump rises in my throat, and I blink away the sudden sting of tears. All those years of thinking Dominic hated me, that I meant nothing to him.
But would I have been open to receiving his apology? Probably not. I had been prepared to leave the island at the first sight of him. If he’d shown up at my door, I would have slammed it in his face.
“I had no idea,” I whisper.
“I know.” Holden’s expression softens with understanding. “But you’re here now. You have a chance to heal, to build something new. And I think that’s pretty amazing.”
My heart stutters. “Holden…”
“I know it’s not my place.” He holds up a hand. “And I’m not trying to influence you either way. I want you to be happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And if there’s a chance you can find happiness with Dominic, I want that for you both.”
How can one man be so good?
I step closer until we stand mere inches apart. This close, the darker flecks of green stand out in his hazel irises, and the threads of copper in his curls catch the light. “ You make me happy. You’re one of the best things in my life. I need you to know that.”
“You’re one of the best things in mine, too,” he whispers, his words turning rough at the edges.
A flash on the screen catches his attention, and clearing his throat, he returns to the laptop.
With a final click, he ejects the thumb drive and holds it out to me. “Here you go. Your story is safe.”
Our fingers brush as I take the drive from him, and a jolt of electricity races through my veins at the fleeting contact.
With a quiet purr, he catches my hand, tugging me closer again. “What about everything else? You doing okay?”
“Yeah.” I burrow my head against his chest, breathing him in. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
His lips press to the top of my head. “You’ll never have to find out. I’m not going anywhere, sugar. Not now, not ever.”
My throat tightens with a swell of emotion, but before I can formulate a response, he releases me to pick up the laptop. “I’ll go relieve Dominic of babysitting duty and give this to him. He has a whole pile of electronics to package up for recycling in the garage office.”
“Okay, I’m going to try to do some work.” Not that I think I can focus right now.
But I need some alone time to process everything. To untangle the knot of feelings brought on by everything that’s happened over the last twelve hours, between my time spent with Nathaniel and Blake, Louie’s unwelcome gift, and my almost-kiss with Dominic.
“Sounds good.” Laptop in hand, Holden backs toward the door. “Can I bring you up lunch in a bit and check on you?”
Warmth spreads through me at his consideration. He’s always trying to take care of everyone. “Yes, please.”
I follow Holden out of the kitchen, and we part ways in the foyer, me heading for the stairs and him stepping outside.
In my bedroom, I plug the thumb drive into my laptop and sink into the chair at my desk. Exhaustion pulls at my limbs, and I rub a hand over my face. I spent little time sleeping last night, but I don’t think my mind will shut off long enough for me to take a nap.
With a heavy sigh, I pull my laptop closer, the metal cool beneath my fingertips. I open it, the fan whirring to life, and the screen wakes to the dimmest light option available. I was working at night last time, and I adjust the mode, bringing up the brightness as I wait for the computer to recognize the thumb drive.
When the little icon appears on my dashboard, my fingers hover over the trackpad, trembling slightly. I can feel the weight of the words inside, the pain and isolation that had poured out of me when I wrote them. It’s a piece of my past I’m not sure I’m ready to revisit, a reminder of how broken I’d been.
How broken I still am, in so many ways.
Instead of clicking on the file, I open a new document, the blank page staring back at me like an old friend. I let my fingers dance across the keys, losing myself in the familiar rhythm, the emotions spilling onto the page. There’s no rhyme or reason, no intention beyond getting the thoughts out of my head.
It allows me to block out the fear, the uncertainty, and even the hope. For a while, I forget that my heart is being pulled in a thousand different directions, torn between the past and the present.
Then an email notification pops up, and my pulse leaps at the chime. I freeze, my fingers poised over the keys as I stare at the subject line from my publisher as nervous anxiety floods my system.
I’ve never had to do this before. Grady always handled the business side of my career. But I can’t avoid them forever.
Steeling myself, I click on the email.
I skim over the words, my heart pounding harder with each line. There’s talk of contracts and negotiations, of deadlines and expectations.
But it’s the seven-digit number at the bottom that makes my breath catch in my throat.
The number seems to pulse on the screen, and my arms drop to my sides as I stare. I have no idea what Dominic put in the email he sent back, but this is almost double what I expected, and for a moment, I can only stare at it in disbelief.
My vision blurs as the realization of what this means crashes over me. This isn’t a paycheck—it’s a lifeline. It’s real security, real power. With this, I wouldn’t be relying on the Misty Pines pack. I could bring something of my own to the table.
My hands tremble as I read the email again, sure that I misunderstood. But the number remains, stark and unchanging. Adrenaline surges through my veins, mixing with a sense of disconnect, like this is happening in some other reality where I actually made it as an author.
I force myself to close the email, knowing I can’t make any impulsive decisions. Not about something this big.
The dump file of emotions slaps me in the face, and I close that, too, not needing to be reminded of my emotional mess. As the window vanishes, it once again reveals the icon for the thumb drive.
My fingers tremble as I open it, skimming the pages of a story written in the darkest days of my captivity, when despair was my only companion and the walls of Louie’s penthouse threatened to suffocate me.
The desperation for a savior spills across the paragraphs, bleeding onto page after page. I don’t even remember half of it. Much of that time slipped by in a haze. But as I scroll down the document, dread seeps into my bones. The sentences become different, sprawling without punctuation or breaks.
Gone is the hope, the promise of a better tomorrow. In its place, a seething anger pulses through every line.
I blink, wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me, if the stress of the past few days has finally taken its toll. But as I read on, the changes become impossible to ignore. The Misty Pines pack, once the heroes of my story, now meet a grisly end, consumed by flames that leap from the pages with a vicious intensity.
A sickening realization dawns, and my pulse races.
This isn’t my story, not anymore. Someone has tampered with it, warped it into a grotesque reflection of my deepest fears. And there’s only one person who would have done this, one person with the motive, the means, and the opportunity.
Louie.
He must have known the guys would check the laptop for booby traps, but also that I would want to reclaim this part of myself, and he twisted my words for his own purposes.
I feel violated, as if he reached into my very soul and left his Mark, a taint that I’ll never be able to wash away. My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat, and I fight the urge to slam the laptop shut, to run and hide like a frightened child.
Instead, I force myself to keep reading, to confront the poison he’s left behind. Because I know, deep down, that this is a message. A warning and a threat.
He’s not done with me, not by a long shot.
When I reach the end, I push the laptop away, trembling as I try to draw in a steadying breath. But the air feels thick, suffocating, like a weight pressing on my chest.
I need to move, to escape the confines of these four walls before they close in on me completely. But my legs won’t cooperate, frozen in place as if rooted to the ground. I’m trapped, a prisoner again, haunted by the specter of Louie’s twisted obsession.
The vibration of my phone rattles the stillness, causing me to jolt in my seat.
In a fog, I open the top drawer of my desk and stare at the screen, an unknown number flashing across the display. My breath catches in my throat, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin.
It’s him. It has to be.
My fingers hover over the screen, numb and unresponsive. I want to decline the call, to banish his existence. But something holds me back, a morbid curiosity mixed with a desperate need for answers.
The phone continues to rattle, and sweat slicks my palms as I reach for the device. But at the last moment, I hesitate, my finger poised above the answer button.
What if this is another trick, another way for him to worm his way back into my life? What if answering this call is the final step in his plan, the last piece of the puzzle that will seal my fate?
I close my eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. I can’t do this. I won’t let him win, not again.
Swallowing hard, I press the decline button, sending the call to voicemail. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the sound of my ragged breaths.
Then the phone vibrates again, the screen lighting up with a new message. My stomach twists as I read the words, each one like a dagger to my heart.
Unknown
Did you read the revisions?
I can almost hear his smooth, icy voice, dripping with false fawning over my books.
Hand shaking, I drop the phone back into the drawer. I can’t do this. I can’t face him, not now, not ever. But even as I try to convince myself, I know it’s a lie. Louie won’t let me go, not until he gets what he wants.
The phone vibrates again with an incoming call. I stare at it, my heart pounding. One ring. Two. Three. My hand reaches out, almost of its own accord, and I answer the call.
“Hello, Chloe.” His poisonous voice slips into my ear. “Have you been properly motivated to come back to me?”
I grip the phone tighter, my knuckles aching. “Never. I will never come back to you.”
His chuckle slithers through the receiver, and my skin crawls. “Oh, but you will. You see, I’ve been watching you for a long time, Chloe. I know all about your precious Alphas, how much they mean to you, and what means the most to them.”
Panic rises in my throat, threatening to choke me. “Leave them alone. They have nothing to do with this.”
“That’s entirely up to you,” he purrs, voice slick as silk. “You have three days, Chloe. Three days to choose. Your freedom…or the ruin of everything and everyone you love.”
The line goes dead, leaving me with nothing but the sound of my gasping breaths.
Three days.
Three days to decide between my happiness and the safety of those I care about.
I shut out the world, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill down my cheeks. How can I choose? How can I sacrifice my freedom for the sake of others? But as I ask myself the question, I know the answer.
I’ll do whatever it takes to protect them. Even if it means giving up everything I’ve fought so hard for. Even if it means losing myself.
With a heavy heart, I set the phone back in the drawer, my mind already racing with the possibilities.
Three days.
Three days to come up with a plan. To find a way out of this nightmare.
But deep down, I know there’s only one way this can end. And it’s not with my freedom, but with my surrender.