"Hitch, so nice of you for coming," Evander said, his eyes glued to Fallon. "And Fallon, you're a hard woman to track down."
She froze and I could feel her tense up even tighter beside me as she squeezed my hand as tight as she could. Something was wrong. She started shaking as Evander stepped closer, and I knew it wasn't going to end well if I didn't step in and do something. So I stepped between them, giving Fallon a chance to disappear while I blocked Foley's view.
"How do you know Fallon?" I asked him, trying to buy Fallon time to run if she wanted. But she didn't take a single step.
"Fallon planned my Christmas party a few years ago," Evander said with an amused tone, his jaw clenching as he smiled, turning my blood cold.
"Yeah, she sure knows how to throw a party," I laughed, taking her hand back in mine as she stepped up beside me again.
"I'm no longer in that line of work," Fallon said abruptly, and I knew right away she was lying, trying to get Evander to believe it.
"Such a shame. You were amazing," he whispered, reaching out to brush his knuckles across her cheek.
I could tell she wanted to cry. That she wanted to hit him for whatever he did. But she stood there and remained strong through the entire conversation, making me even more proud of her than I already was. Once he left, making sure to flash a wink at Fallon, she grabbed control of my hand and dragged me to the door.
"I need to get out of here," she said, and all I could do was nod.
We practically sprinted through the massive rooms, past the gaping mouths of guests still caught in their social dances, until we made it to the entrance. The security guard eyed us with suspicion, but I held up my hand, flashing a smile as I ushered Fallon out. We burst through the heavy front doors, into the frigid night air, where the biting wind whipped at our faces. She didn't say a word, just dragged me toward the car, her heels clicking frantically against the stone pathway.
I didn't argue. I knew she was barely holding herself together, her breaths coming in shallow, quick gasps. As soon as we reached the car, she fumbled with the handle, wrenching it open, and practically fell inside. I followed, slamming the door shut and starting the engine. She slumped against the headrest, her face a pale mask of shock and anger. The vibrant red of her dress seemed to have dimmed, as if the color had been leeched away by the oppressive atmosphere of the mansion.
"Where are we going?" I asked, keeping my voice low, trying to project calmness when my insides were a churning mess.
She didn't respond immediately, just closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then shook her head. "Anywhere but here," she finally said, her voice a strained whisper.
I nodded, already pulling away from the curb. The festive lights of the mansion blurred in my rearview mirror, a mocking reminder of the charade we'd just endured.
"Tell me what happened," I urged, turning onto the empty, winding road that led away from the estate.
She remained silent for a long moment, staring out the window, the city lights reflecting in her wide, frightened eyes. The silence was deafening, filled with the unspoken weight of what we'd just experienced.
"Fallon, tell me what fucking happened. What did he do?" I growled, finally getting a reaction out of her even if it was fear.
Finally, she began to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "He… he did things, Hitch. Things he shouldn't have done."
Her words hung in the air, a chilling revelation. I knew what she meant. Evander Foley wasn't just a powerful man; he was a dangerous one. And the fact that he seemed to have intimate knowledge of Fallon's past—a past she clearly wanted to keep buried—sent a fresh wave of ice through my veins.
"What things?" I pressed gently, my hand instinctively reaching out to cover hers, wanting to give her as much support as possible, but on the inside I was fucking pissed, hoping she didn't tell me he'd assaulted her or hurt her in any way.
Fallon was a tough girl, she had always been. She went through an awful assault during high-school when she was drugged by a few soccer players and recorded as they raped her. She never got over it but she didn't act like she was a victim. I had always admired her for it. But because of that she shut down. She stopped confiding in me and even Brady, and eventually she pulled away completely. It wasn't just a couple years ago we all reunited again.
Her fingers were cold, a stark contrast to the burning heat that had just consumed me. I squeezed her hand, attempting to convey my unwavering presence in the face of whatever horrorsshe was about to unearth. I could feel her reluctance, the way her grip tightened around mine, a silent plea for understanding.
"It doesn't matter, Hitch," she finally choked out, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. She finally turned to look at me, her eyes filled with a pain I hadn't seen in years, the pain I knew haunted her. "It's… it's in the past. It doesn't matter."
"It does matter, Fallon," I insisted, my voice softening. "If it hurts you, it matters. If he hurts you, it matters. You don't have to carry anything alone."
Her lips trembled. "He... he used to call me 'his snowflake,'" she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips.
The confession sent a fresh wave of anger through me. It was a name that carried a weight of unwanted attention and the pain she must have endured.
"He made me feel… worthless. Like I was only there for his amusement."
I wanted to stop the car, to pull over and hold her, to shield her from the remnants of her memories. But I knew she needed to tell me, and needed to release the poison that still lingered within her. I held her hand tighter and simply nodded.
"He controlled me, Hitch," she continued, her voice gaining a bit of strength with each word. "He controlled every aspect of my life. He isolated me, made me dependent on him."
She turned her head away, her shoulders shaking, and I didn't say anything, letting her take it all in. I just kept my eyes on the road.
