36. Wolfe
WOLFE
I didn’t sleep. Didn’t even pretend to try. I sat in the dark, fully clothed, the light from the surveillance feed turning the walls a cold blue-gray.
The espresso machine hissed in the kitchen. I made coffee just to pour it down the sink. The steam rising from the mug didn’t carry warmth—only noise. Something to fill the silence that felt like it might snap my ribs in half.
The feed from her building glowed on my laptop.
Still.
Unmoving.
Sunday footage looped. She never came back. Not to her place. Not to mine. Not to me. I rewound the hallway camera again. Watched the timecode jump. Watched her silhouette blur past the lens—hoodie on, face low.
She moved like smoke. Like someone who didn’t want to be seen. She turned the corner like someone who knew what not to be caught by. I told myself I wasn’t sure yet. That maybe she just needed air.
But I knew .
I’d known the second my eyes opened and the space beside me was still empty. I didn’t know where she’d gone. But I knew what it meant. By the time I stepped into the building, I’d already felt it. The loss. I just hadn’t seen it yet.
The Lawlor floor was too quiet. Monday mornings usually carried noise—early staff chatter, Loyal’s espresso machine grinding, Barron’s voice in the hallway.
But today?
Nothing.
Just the echo of my shoes on polished floors and a tension behind my ribs I couldn’t shake.
I got in early. Didn’t greet anyone. Didn’t take the elevator with anyone. Didn’t see her. I walked straight to my office. Unlocked the door. Stopped. The desk looked the same. Exactly the same. Except…
The drawer.
It was open.
Not wide. Just enough.
Just inviting enough. Like a whisper I didn’t want to hear. I stepped forward. Didn’t take my coat off. Didn’t breathe until I reached it.
Inside—
The chain.
Black silk.
Garnet.
Curled in on itself like it missed her.
The garnet still caught the light. Even in the dim. Like it knew it had been left behind. Like it had witnessed something I hadn’t.
I stared at it for a long time. Long enough that my eyes started to burn. I didn’t touch it. Not at first.
I just stood there.
Frozen.
Reading her absence like scripture. This wasn’t a mistake. She didn’t lose it. She didn’t forget it. She left it. On purpose. Deliberate. Quiet. Final.
I reached down slowly. Picked it up. Felt the weight of it settle into my palm like it belonged there. But it didn’t feel like it used to. It was cold now. Too cold.
I turned it over.
Let it pool across my knuckles.
It slid like regret.
Slick.
Sharp.
Soft in the way silk is soft when it’s being used to bind. I dropped it. Not because I wanted to. Because I couldn’t fucking breathe.
The chain hit the wood with a sound that felt like being punched in the chest. I turned away. Paced to the window. Pressed both palms against the glass like I could feel her on the other side of it.
The city didn’t stop moving. Didn’t slow. Didn’t care. I did. I cared more than I knew how to say. And now she was gone.And the only thing she left behind? Was the part of herself I gave her. That wasn’t an accident. It was a message. And I’d just read it.
I reached in.
Touched it.
Lifted it slowly, like it might break under its own weight. The silk slid through my fingers. Still warm. Still carrying her scent—faint lavender, Wolfe’s shirt, heat.
I pressed it into my palm.
Tighter.
Enough to bite.
The garnet glinted under the light like it remembered fire. She wore this when I touched her. When she begged. When she whispered thank you like it was the last truth she had left in her.
And now?
She left it.
Not lost.
Not misplaced.
Left.
I wrapped the chain around my knuckles once.
Then unwrapped it. Set it down gently. Like if I handled it too roughly, I’d be admitting what it meant.
I stared at it for a long time. Didn’t touch it.
Didn’t need to. Because I already knew what it meant.
She didn’t lose it. She didn’t forget it. She left it.
I backed away from the desk.
Turned.
Walked straight to Barron’s office. Didn’t knock. He wasn’t in yet. Of course he wasn’t. I crossed the room. Tapped the panel behind the bookshelf.
The safe was already open.
Empty.
Completely.
My vision blurred for a second. Not from anger. Not from grief. From clarity. From the kind of betrayal that explains everything. I stood in front of the safe like I might find something else inside if I looked harder.
But it was empty.
So quiet, it felt like a laugh.
Like the room itself was mocking me.
I touched the inside. There was still a faint line where the book had rested.
Like a shadow that wouldn’t wash away. Like it wanted me to know it hadn’t been stolen.
It had been taken. By someone I let that close.
I should’ve changed the code. I should’ve never let her see me open it.
But I had. And somewhere along the way, she stopped being a girl I wanted to keep safe?—
And started being a risk I was too far in to walk away from. I stood in front of the empty safe for a long time. Then closed it. Reset the lock. Straightened my jacket. And walked out like I hadn’t just realized the one person I would’ve burned the world for?—
Was already holding the match.
For one second, I felt it.
The same silence Barron stood in when Selene fucked another man and walked out with half his heart and none of his name. He never said a word about it. Not to me. Not to anyone.
But I’d seen it.
In the way he stopped trusting softness. In the way he let power become punishment. In the way he looked at me when I started touching her like she was mine.
Back then, I thought he was weak.
Now?
Now I fucking understood it.
This wasn’t heartbreak. This was a slow bleed under the skin. The kind of betrayal that turns to bone. The kind you build a kingdom out of—just to bury someone in it.
Want more? Wolfe never said it. But she did. Read the thank you that changed everything.