The name he called me in the alley. Topolina. That’s what Christian called me yesterday, in bed, while I was too busy being blissed out and almost unconscious to put it together. That’s what he said; I can hear it now in my head. But I ignored it then. I’ve ignored so many things.
It’s all so clear now, bent over the toilet bowl with the situation spreading out around me. The chance meetings that weren’t so chance. The first note he left among the pictures. He couldn’t come to me after the alley because he was probably wearing the same clothes and knew I’d recognize them—besides, his cologne would give him away. No wonder it smelled familiar when he grabbed me.
And Kyla. She said he threatened her, and I didn’t believe her. I was so damn sure of myself. Now I see how he set this up, step by step. Alienating me from her. Silencing Cynthia before she could warn me I’m dating the son of my father’s enemy.
My legs are shaking, but I somehow stand. The cold water from the sink doesn’t do much to clear my head, but it rinses away the tears drying on my cheeks. I didn’t realize I was crying, but it only makes sense.
How could I be so stupid? So blind? He set me up for this from the beginning.
For once, I don’t freeze up in fear. I don’t have that luxury now. He could come back any second, and there’s no way I could pretend none of this happened. I can’t go back to the clueless idiot I was five minutes ago.
He’d see right through me. And then…
I’m shoving my feet into shoes, shaking so hard my teeth are chattering, when the news anchor breaks in again. “In an update to the breaking story we brought you earlier, a make and model of the car discovered earlier this evening has been provided to investigators.”
I look at the screen in time to see a car that looks a lot like Taj’s appear. The car they found at the drug den was the same model as Taj’s.
And there was foul play involved, right? Wasn’t that what they said earlier?
“No, no,” I whimper, tears filling my eyes again.
No, it can’t be. This is all a coincidence.
But oh, God, what if it isn’t? What if this was always the way things were going to end? And what if Kyla’s warning to me at the coffee shop—the warning I told Christian about—means he’ll go after her to keep her quiet?
Now I know where I have to go. We’ll find someplace safe, the two of us, until I get this figured out. We’ll be able to hide somewhere, won’t we? No, I’ll call the cops once we’re barricaded in the house. No way can they brush me off this time.
On the way, driving as fast as I dare down streets that are fairly empty at this time of night, I try to get ahold of Kyla, but it’s no use. Her phone goes straight to voicemail.
“Please, God,” I call out in the car. “Please, don’t let anything happen to her. Please.” I don’t know if God’s listening or if there even is one, but I need all the help I can get.
The living room light is on, visible in the window when I screech to a stop out in front. That’s a good sign. She’s home. She might be completely unaware of all of this. I hope it doesn’t take long to convince her we’re in danger.
“Kyla?” The door’s unlocked, and I burst through it at a run. “Kyla? Where are you?”
She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. The sight of her splayed out on the living room floor is answer enough. There’s a roaring in my head, and the room spins around Kyla’s prone form. Her eyes are closed, and there are ugly bruises on her throat, and I don’t know if she’s breathing or not.
I would check. I want to—my body moves in her direction.
Until I register the presence behind me. Until a hand covers my mouth, a strong arm hauling me backward until I’m crushed against him with no hope of escape.
I know who it is. It was Christian all along, all of it, including this.
His breath is hot against my ear. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”
To be continued…