Chapter Seven #2
The engine roars to life and I tear down the street, dodging traffic, cutting corners, making maneuvers that would get me pulled over if anyone had the balls to try.
My pulse is a steady hammer in my throat.
My mind is already at the warehouse. Already imagining blood.
Already imagining Mara’s name in someone else’s mouth.
My tires screech as I stop outside the building. The two assholes Jaxon mentioned are leaning against the hood of some overly flashy sports car, laughing like they own the morning. I step out, cross my arms, and walk toward them. My presence alone makes them shrink back.
Good. They should.
“What the fuck do you want?” I ask, voice low, dangerous. “And why are you snooping around at seven in the morning? That kind of shit will get you killed.” They throw up their hands, cowards.
“We mean no harm, just looking for a friend.” One of them produces a photo.
I glance at it. Realization hits. Hard. Cold. Sharp.
I stare down at the face of the man I cut into pieces for her. My poker face holds. It always does.
“Never seen that guy before in my life,” I say, leaning against the metal shutter.
“Are you sure?” the brunette asks. “GPS from his car shows he was here a few weeks ago. Around the time he disappeared.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Here? What business would a guy like that have here? This is a repair shop. No ladies in sight.”
They chuckle. “Yeah, we thought the same. I figured maybe he bought one of the girls from the bar. There was one… what’s her name, Mara? He talked about her a lot.”
My fingers twitch toward the pistol tucked at my back.
I refrain.
Barely.
“Yeah. Mara Thorne. That’s the one.” Their gazes dart to me as they say her full name.
I shrug. “Never heard of her. She must be hot if he talked about her that much.”
“He was obsessed with her,” the blond says. “Watched her at the bar. She shut him down. Called him a spoilt brat. He didn’t like that. Said he’d find her and make her his.”
“That sounds fucked up,” I say, suppressing the growl clawing up my throat.
They shrug again. Too casual. Too knowing. They know her full name. They know where she works. They know enough to be dangerous. Enough to be a threat.
“Maybe we should go talk to her,” the brunette says. “She might know something. What’s that studio she works at? Heathens? Yeah, let’s head down there.”
My blood runs cold. Then hot. Then lethal.
But I remember. She will not be working today. She is home. Alone. Vulnerable. And these bastards are about to go sniffing around her life.
“Maybe she might know,” I say, pushing them toward the idea, toward the studio, away from her apartment. I need them off her trail. I need them distracted. I need to get to her before they do. Before anything happens to her. Before I lose the one thing in this world I cannot afford to lose.
I turn away, already planning my next move, already reaching for my phone, already imagining her face when she sees me show up unannounced.
I need to get her out. I need to get her safe. I need to get to her now.
Mara
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My phone lights up with a text.
Unknown Number – I’m on my way, be ready.
A spike of adrenaline hits my chest. I type quickly, trying to sound casual.
Christ, so soon? I was just about to go and pick something up from the studio and stop by the store for snacks before we left. Can’t it wait a little while?
His response comes through almost instantly, too fast, too sharp.
Unknown Contact – Don’t you dare go to that studio, no questions just listen to me. Whatever it is you need I’ll buy you a new one, whatever snacks you want I’ll grab on our travels, do not go to that studio today.
A warning.
A command.
Why the hell doesn’t he want me to go to the studio.
Why the hell doesn’t he want me to go anywhere.
My stomach twists with unease, but I save his contact anyway and grab my suitcase, the dress bag slung over the handle.
I throw on my hoodie, double check everything I need, and try to ignore the creeping sense that something is wrong.
A knock hits the door. Sharp. Hurried. I freeze.
I glance through the peephole and see Kade. Jeans. Hoodie. Jaw clenched so tight it looks painful. He sprinted here. He looks like he’s barely holding himself together.
I open the door and he steps inside immediately, eyes sweeping over me, checking for something, checking for someone. His hands come up to my upper arms, gripping hard enough to make my breath catch.
“Right, what the hell is going on?” I ask, crossing my arms even though my pulse is racing.
“Has anyone been here?” His voice is low, rough, almost shaking.
“Why would they?”
“Answer the fucking question, Bunny.” The snap in his tone is feral, unhinged, terrified.
“No. No one’s been here.” My heart pounds so loudly I swear he can hear it.
He exhales, but it isn’t relief. It’s something darker. Something that feels like he was seconds away from losing his mind.
“Good. Let’s go.” He grabs my suitcase without hesitation and takes my hand, pulling me out of the apartment with a force that leaves no room for argument.
I stumble after him, hoodie half-zipped, suitcase rattling behind us, his grip tight and urgent. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t slow down. He moves like the building is burning and I’m the only thing he’s trying to save.
“Kade,” I say, breathless. “Tell me what’s happening.”
He doesn’t answer. His jaw is locked, his eyes scanning every shadow in the hallway, every door, every corner. His hand tightens around mine, almost painful, almost desperate.
Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.
He pulls me down the stairs, out into the morning air, toward the car waiting at the curb. His movements are fast, frantic, unsteady. He looks over his shoulder every few seconds, like he expects someone to appear behind us.
“Kade,” I try again, louder. “Talk to me.”
He finally looks at me. His eyes are blown wide, frantic, terrified in a way I have never seen. Not once. Not ever.
“We’re leaving,” he says. “Now.”
“Why?”
His breath shakes. His hand comes up to the back of my neck, pulling me close, grounding me, begging me silently not to fight him.
“Because someone is looking for you,” he says quietly. “And I am not letting them find you.”
Someone is looking for me.
He guides me into the passenger seat, his hand lingering on my thigh for a moment, steadying me, anchoring me. His voice is low when he speaks again.
“Buckle up. I’ll explain once we’re moving.”
I swallow hard, fingers trembling as I reach for the seatbelt. He shuts the door, circles the car, and slides into the driver’s seat with a look that tells me he’s ready for anything.
The engine roars to life and I quickly buckle myself in, my eyes are on him the entire time “Please explain to me what’s going on.”
He runs a hand down his face, his jaw set in stone.
“Remember the asshole that touched you in the bar? Well…” He stalls for a moment
“That wasn’t the first time he’d seen you Bunny, he was watching for a while.”
Dread settles in my gut.
“Months, to be exact, his friends were in on it too. They turned up at my shop today and were asking questions, mentioned you, your full name, where you worked. They wanted me to know they were after you, wanted me to snap, get distracted. They told me they were going to come and talk to you at the studio today.”
Pure fear settles in my veins, watched me for months? What the fuck…
“Months…” I repeat his earlier word, my blood running ice cold.
“What else did they say?”
“You don’t want to know Bunny.” His voice a low warning.
“Was he going to hurt me?”
“Worse.”
I don’t need to hear any more, I turn and look out of the window, my hands shaking, a moment later warmth envelops me as he laces his fingers between mine.
“I meant it when I said I’d never let anything happen to you.”
His words fill me with a slight sense of hope, having him at my side, I should be okay.
“You can’t be there night and day, besides, its not like either you or I could move in to the others place.” I say trying to lighten the situation.
“And why not?” He cocks an eyebrow at me
“What do you mean why not?”
“My house is plenty big enough for the both of us.” he simply shrugs
“Besides, its much nicer than your apartment, and has a tub” He winks at me and I laugh, a real genuine laugh.
His eyes dance with an unfamiliar emotion as he laughs along with me, the moment a stark contrast from the conversation we were just having.
“You’re helping me pack.” I say jokingly his hand squeezes mine lightly as he accelerates onto the highway.
The estate rises out of the dusk as a monument to old money and older ego.
The gravel driveway stretches wider than most streets, curving toward a mansion that resembles a museum more than a home.
Tall stone pillars guard the entrance, each one lit by warm golden sconces that cast a glow across the marble steps.
The house sprawls across the land with manicured gardens, trimmed hedges, and fountains catching the last of the fading light.
It is lavish. It is imposing. It is larger than life.
It is everything my parents wanted the world to believe they were.
Will stands waiting in the gravel, posture straight, hands clasped behind his back, prepared for our arrival down to the minute. I climb out of the passenger seat before Kade can get the door, earning a low grumble from him.
I jog up to Will and pull him into a hug, the familiar scent of cedar polish grounding me for a moment.
“Miss Thorne, it’s been so long.” His smile softens the lines on his older face.
“How have you been? I trust my family have treated you well?” I tilt my head. He shrugs, the kind of shrug that carries a lifetime of stories he will never say aloud. He offers his arm, and I link mine with his, walking beside him while Kade follows behind us, silent and watchful.