Chapter 34 BETH
BETH
Broken girls didn’t get love.
It had been three days now since I last saw my mother. Kenzo had driven me to the nearest phone store to get a new phone that day. When I returned home, I found a sticky note I had earlier missed that morning, stuck to the fridge’s door.
But the mystery was, Mother wouldn’t leave sticky notes.
She didn’t do reminders written in loopy ink or any gesture that suggested warmth.
With her, life was ran like some military regime; strict schedules, precise, joyless and unforgiving.
There was no room for cute. And for me, sticky notes were cute.
The note said that she was going for another outreach somewhere out of the State. She said she would be gone for a while. And that I should take care of myself.
It was really odd; the sticky note and asking me to take care of myself. It was perhaps just another ploy to keep me tethered, chained. An attempt to gain my trust, maybe.
“You look…great,” the man sitting across from me said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
My gaze fell back on him, catching the steam from his coffee curling into the air.
Rowan McRae.
Finally.
A series of events had led me to keep pushing our meetings. And I was tired of his incessant calls and texts. I needed to clear the air, make a choice, stick to it.
So after getting another call last night, I made it a mission to see him today.
“You don’t look too bad yourself.” I tried to keep it light, and he laughed softly, that same low, disarming laugh I remembered.
His gaze held mine, familiar and steady, untainted by grudge, which made me relax a little.
He leaned over the table, grabbing the white mug that had his coffee, then he took a sip gently, his eyes pinned on me.
He then exhaled, setting the mug down. “So…how has life been treating you?” he asked genuinely.
“Good.” The lie tasted bitter. Because school was a daily nightmare. Family was a concept I had never known. Friends? Just Kenzo. Love? It was…complicated. But I wouldn’t be boring him with these. The less he knew, the better.
“School?” he pressed. “How’s that been?”
“Good, I supposed.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Nothing much has happened.”
I finally lifted the cup, took a sip, and let the heat burn my tongue. Another lie swallowed down.
“Cool.” He nodded, his gaze flickering away, scanning the room absently.
“And you?” I asked, eager to shift the focus. “How about work? Found anything yet? And did you look into Quantum Pixels’ offer? I saw the email unanswered for days. I tried contacting you in case you didn’t see it.”
The memory of the woman who opened the door that day flickered, though hazy. I realised I didn’t really look at her much. I was too angry to.
“That.” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why the email dropped in the spam. I didn’t get to it on time. My sister forgot to mention to me that you came, so it kind of ended up as a missed opportunity.” His eyes flickered to me. “It was given to someone else.”
Shit. That lady was his sister? Well, damn.
“What can I say?” he mused. “Maybe it was never mine.”
“I’m sure another will come eventually.” I didn’t know how that sounded. I hope it didn’t come out as dismissive. Perhaps, this was just a wrong topic. Anything else but job. I was responsible for him losing the last one.
“I missed you, Beth.” His sudden and quiet confession stole the air from my lungs. “I missed you a lot.”
My breath stumbled again, fingers tightening around the handle of the mug. “Yeah.” A pause, a moment of hesitation, then I whispered, “I missed you too.”
His chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it closer to the table. My lips parted in a tiny gasp when he suddenly grabbed my hand in his, warmth seeping into my skin.
“Can we work it out?” he asked, the pad of his thumb running soothing circles on the back of my palm. “Us? Can we make us work again? This time, for real?”
It was just a simple question. And it was just a simple yes or no as the answer. But something began to lurk in the darkest pit of my mind. Fear. It was as if something was coming, something really wrong.
My heart tripped, its rhythm faltering, my nerves on edge.
Then just like that, the glass door of the shop swung open, the bell chiming.
The chill in the air was instant, cutting through the warmth like a blade.
There was an obvious shift, an unmistakable disturbance. The kind of presence that made the hair on the back of my neck rise before I even looked.
And then I did. I glanced at the door and saw him.
Zaghan.
He stepped inside like a shadow bleeding into the light. The weight of his presence pressed into the space, into my chest, his aura a quiet violence that settled into the bones of the room.
The easy noise of the café dulled, swallowed by something unseen yet palpable.
Then his gaze found me. And just like that, breathing became an impossible task.
“It’s okay if you need time to think about it.” Oblivious to the danger approaching, Rowan still latched onto my hand like it was his lifeline. “I know it’s been difficult for both of us.” Then he paused skeptically.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, finally reading the room, his gaze following my line of vision. But before he could crane his neck to see the bad omen approaching, Zaghan was by the table.
“Uh, hey man.” So unassuming and innocent, Rowan gave him a welcoming smile, questioning eyes bouncing between me and the man hovering over us.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, barely above a whisper, then I realised he wasn’t even looking at me, but at the middle of the table where Rowan’s hand and mine were joined together.
Zaghan’s jaw tightened, eyes the darkest I had ever seen them. Quickly, I pulled my hand away, my action plunging Rowan into a huge state of confusion.
“Sorry, what’s going on here?” Rowan’s eyes shifted from Zaghan to me, then to Zaghan again. “Is there a problem?” He looked back at me. “Do you know him?”
“I have a history around here. So I don’t want to make a scene.” Zaghan’s tone was lethal, a poison seeping into our skin. “And I’d hate to be forced to.” His eyes fell on me, and the storm roaring in the depths made me want to shrink and disappear. “Get up.”
“But–”
“–Trust me, you don’t want me to repeat myself.”
I had never seen the worst of Zaghan or imagined the extremely wicked things he could be capable of.
But somewhere at the back of my mind, I knew his threats couldn’t be so empty.
It wasn’t just a means to scare me into obeying his command.
So when I pulled my chair back and stood, I knew this was the best decision for not just me, but for Rowan as well.
“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on here?” Rowan proceeded to his feet, ready to defend me. “Who is this man, Beth?”
The dainty cups that held coffee shook, the liquid inside trembling as Zaghan’s hands slammed on the table, eyes narrowed at Rowan. “Take a step from where you are currently standing and you’ll not be walking ever again.”
His words were cold, a dark promise Rowan must have felt deeply as he froze, barely taking in the next breath let alone another step.
“Move,” Zaghan ordered the moment his eyes shifted to me.
I could barely make any other bodily movement other than forcing my legs to move. I didn’t even dare to glance back at Rowan. My eyes remain pinned on the exit door just a couple of steps ahead.
And the closer I got to the door, the louder the voice at the back of my head echoed.
How did he find me?
???
“Did you put a tracker on me?” I asked the question and shattered the heavy silence of the long-hour drive from the coffee shop to the guesthouse.
I had spent every second of this ride trying to dissect how he found me. And the only answer that made sense was that somehow, there might be a tracker placed on me. The possibility alone coiled tight in my chest like a warning. But how? I had gotten this new phone barely 72 hours ago.
“Did you?” I pressed when he didn’t answer. “You’ve been tracking me. Why?”
I didn’t need evidence to back up my point. Either there was a tracker or someone had been asked to tail me, monitor my movement. Keep me on a close watch. Just like Mother.
I was glaring at him, but that was hardly effective as his eyes were closed–had been closed the entire ride back to the apartment. His jaw kept flexing, a vein pulsing at his temple, holding back violence, but he hadn’t said a word.
“Did you–”
“–Get out.” His eyes were still shut, but his voice was razor-sharp, laced with barely restrained fury.
“Did you put a–”
I didn’t get to finish the question. In the next breath, his presence engulfed me, his massive frame eclipsing the space between us.
His fingers clamped around my throat, shoving me back against the door with a force that sent a shock wave through my spine.
Pain cackled through me, sharp and electric.
“Now, listen to me and listen good.” His words were a blade slicing through my resolve, gruff and layered with something wicked, always wicked. And his voice was hot, reeking with dominance as it ghosted over my skin.
“You are going to get out of this car, go to the room, strip, and then wait.” His fingers flexed around my neck, a reminder that my life was just a fragile pulse beneath the weight of his hand.
“Nod if you understand, Elizabeth.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, the pounding loud in the car’s suffocating silence.
I nodded, but his hand lingered on my neck before he finally let go, hesitantly, though, as if he was contemplating just pressing harder and ending it all at once.
I scrambled for the door handle, opening it with shaky fingers and stumbling out.
My legs felt weak and wobbly as if I had taken too many shots of something potent. And the whisper of wind against my skin was a cruel reminder of how unsteady I was.
My eyes itched and I knew. I just knew the tears were coming.