Chapter 39 – Alec #2
Eventually, I hear the front door open, heavy footsteps crossing the compound and heading straight to the sitting room.
Ashton drops into the couch beside me, legs spread wide, zero sense of boundaries and completely unaware of how destroyed I am right now.
“Hey, boss! I need to talk to you. It’s important. ”
We’ve barely exchanged two words since our blowup at the club, and I know he’s still furious at me, but his timing couldn’t be worse.
“I can’t deal with you and your bullshit right now,” I mutter. “Whatever it is, we can deal with it tomorrow.”
Ashton snorts. “Great. Amazing attitude as usual. But I didn’t come here to argue with you. You’ll want to hear this, trust me.”
I don’t have the energy. “Just tell me what you want and get the fuck out,” I say. My voice is biting, but it’s not him I’m angry at. It’s me.
What if this is it? What if she never forgives me for keeping my distance, for trying to keep her safe? What if that was the last time I'll ever see her?
“Doc found out who was driving the car that almost hit Sydney,” Ashton says.
My eyes snap to him.
“Someone called the cops,” he continues. “The night it happened. They took down the license plate, gave it to the operator.”
“And?” I push.
“You’re not going to believe this. It was her ex. Chase.” Ashton’s face twists, his fist flexing on the couch. “Guess I didn’t do enough to scare him off.”
Her ex. Not Dante.
“We need to find him,” I grind out. “Now. Call Viper, have him—”
My phone rings, vibrating loud enough on the kitchen counter to cut me off.
Sydney. Maybe it’s her, maybe she’s calling. Even if it’s just to scream at me, to tell me to get fucked.
I bolt up from the couch, hurrying to the kitchen, ignoring Ashton as he calls out after me.
My heart sinks when I check the caller ID and see it’s not her.
It’s Sebastian.
“This better be important,” I snap, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Is Sydney there?” His voice is frantic, pitched too high. “Tell me she’s with you at the compound right now.”
“No.” Because I fucked up. Because I fuck everything up. “She was, but—”
Sebastian swears, cutting me off. “You need to get to her place right the fuck now. I’m too far out, and you’re closer.”
Fuck.
I’m grabbing my jacket and gun before he can even finish, sprinting for the door. “I’m on my way. What happened?”
“Someone broke into her place about five minutes ago,” he says. “I just got the alert on my phone.”
A dark, violent fury fills me. “Her ex?” I ask.
“No. The camera picked up his face, but I don’t recognize him. A man, maybe six four, muscular. He’s still inside. I keep calling her, but she’s not picking up. You need to get there. Now, before she does.”
My stomach drops. She would be here, safe with me, if only I hadn't let my goddamn control issues get in the way of being with her. Instead of protecting her, I sent her running, straight into danger.
Ashton shouts behind me, demanding to know where I’m going, but I don’t have time to explain. I grab the first set of keys I find and race toward the garage.
When I hit the unlock button on the keys I’m holding, Ash’s yellow Lamborghini beeps.
I need to get to Sydney now, and if this gives Ash one more reason to hate me, so be it. This car is his baby. I’ve never seen him care for anything the way he cares for it—
Her, I correct myself, lifting the door and ducking into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life when I start the car. He fucking insists we call it her.
“I’m on my way,” I tell Sebastian, throwing the car into gear and peeling out of the garage, tearing north toward Sydney’s apartment.
“I sent you the security feed,” he says. “Keep it open so you can get a read on the situation. He still hasn’t left yet, but I haven’t seen her arrive either.”
“Got it.”
I hear his motorcycle engine rev. “Fucking get there right now, Alec,” he tells me. Then the phone clicks. He’s already on the move, knowing he’ll never make it before me.
I open the feed he sent, keeping half an eye on it and half on the road as I speed through the city. Her front door is shut, and there’s no one there, no movement, nothing. I might as well be looking at a still image for all the good it does.
My eyes flick between the phone and the road, only looking up long enough to make sure I don’t crash, when the car’s Bluetooth suddenly picks up an incoming call. Ashton’s name flashes across the screen.
“What the fuck?” he yells when I answer. “Tell me you did not just take my fucking car!”
“Sydney’s in trouble,” I tell him in lieu of explanation, no apology. “I needed it.”
“Then why the fuck didn’t you bring me?” he shouts. The speaker crackles with how loud he is. “Or take a different fucking car? You have like twenty!”
“Your feelings aren’t my priority right now,” I snap. “Someone needs to get to her place as soon as fucking possible. Doc is on his way, too. Meet us there, and you can be backup.”
“WITH WHAT CAR?” he screams. I end the call. He’ll figure something out.
I’m not used to this, this panicked, clawing fear gripping my chest. I haven’t felt this way in decades.
Growing up the way I did, you cope by either living in fear forever or making damn sure you never feel it again.
I spent my whole life building walls to protect myself, making sure nothing could ever touch me, could ever hurt me.
I did all of it so I would never be that kid cowering in a closet again.
The kid who couldn’t do anything when his father chased his mom through the house.
Who had to listen to his mother crying, begging for the pain to end.
The kid who heard the shot that ended her life, who had to testify against his own father in court and send him to rot in prison.
I’ve spent twenty years making myself untouchable. But she’s in danger, and for the first time since I was that scared little kid, I feel it. Panic. Helpless, crippling fear, filling my veins.
Movement draws my eyes back to the camera feed.
Sydney’s home.
She’s home, and I’m still a few blocks away.
I tell the car’s voice system to dial her number, my eyes glued to the feed. She digs in her purse for her keys, anger pinching her face, unaware of the danger she’s in. Because of me. Because I broke something in her tonight and sent her straight into harm’s way.
The call rings. And rings. She doesn’t answer it.
“Fucking turn around,” I bark at the screen. “Turn around and leave, right the fuck now!”
But she doesn’t.
Her key goes into the lock. Turns. And she disappears inside.
The door closes.
She’s in there, inside with whoever is waiting for her.
Every second stuck in the car becomes an eternity. I swerve into the back lot behind her building and slam the Lamborghini to a stop, not bothering to turn it off. I’m out the door before the car settles into park, racing up the stairs, my heart in my throat.
I hear a scream. Her scream.
But screaming means she’s still alive.
I reach her door, only to realize I don’t have keys to her apartment. So I do the only reasonable thing I can. I take three running steps and throw my body against the door, so hard it shatters, bursting open.
Sydney. She’s on the floor, clutching her head. Her attacker has her by the hair, dragging her across the floor toward her bedroom.
I don’t even stop to think.
I raise the gun and fire.