It doesn’t matter. Play along. Get him out.
My hands shake too badly for me to put it on the first time. The ring slides down my finger, the weight feeling like a shackle. “There. Now leave.”
“See?” Philip smirks. “All it takes is a little firm handling. Goodbye, Briar.”
I stare at the door for several long moments before scrambling to lock it. Jenson was right about my safety.
But I never expected the threat to come from Philip.
It’s all too much. Last night. Now this?
The back of my throat begins to burn as I retreat to my armchair and try to breathe, the ring heavy on my finger. I still feel too exposed, as if he’s going to walk back in at any moment.
I glance at the door again. And then to my phone.
Scrambling for it, I press the first number on my list.
The tears start falling before it even begins to ring.
Jenson
The sounds of Briar’s sobs are branded into my brain like my own personal fucking brand of torture as I throw the car door open and step out to look down the busy street.
I still have no idea what’s happened. Only her broken words.
She asked me to come.
Ahead of me, the queue of traffic stretches out, the ridiculously small street not enough to cope with the truck that’s trying to reverse around a fucking tight corner up ahead. Horns blast behind me as I slam the door.
“You can’t leave that here!” The guy behind me winds down his window. “Hey!”
“Go around it. Tow it. I don’t care.” His shouting fades as I take off, my heartbeat thumping in time with the pounding of my shoes.
It takes a few minutes before I get to her store. The door rattles, refusing to open, and my heart climbs into my mouth as I bang my fist against it.
There’s no answer.
I glare at the battered door.I’m getting her a new one anyway.
My first kick nearly splinters it through, the shitty materials no match for anyone with the slightest bit of strength. The aging wood wouldn’t hold up to a fucking light breeze.
My second sends it flying open, the broken remains crashing against the wall as I stride inside. “Briar?”
There’s no sign of her, her armchair and the chair behind her desk empty.
My heart turns over inside my chest.
And then I hear it.
A small noise. The bottom of my stomach falls in a swoop as I carefully make my way to her desk.
She’s curled up in the corner, on the fuckingfloor. Her face is buried in her arms.
Her whole body is shaking. “Briar.”
Another small, shaky noise that threatens to shatter my heart. “Briar. Look at me.”
Rounding the desk, I drop down into a crouch, keeping my distance. She doesn’t look up, and my panic threatens to explode.
