I don’t know what’s real. But I know what I have to do next. Jack—Julian—thinks he’s been watching me. But now I’m watching him.
Thirty-One
Ellie
My phone vibrates to life on Jack’s desk. I cross the room and swipe at the screen. Another anonymous message.
Don’t make me angry. You won’t like me when I’m angry.
My heart stops for a few long beats. I hit delete on the message. Maybe I should change my phone number. Maybe it’s time to uproot my entire life and start over—new job, new city, new me. Heck, maybe I even need a new name to escape the legacy I was born into. I’m not sure what’s fiction and what’s reality anymore—am I going crazy or is it everyone around me that can’t be trusted? Maybe it’s both.
I think of the possible suspects who could be sending me these threatening messages. The list is long—too long. My instinct is to lock myself in this apartment forever, not that that would do much good.
I snap a quick picture of Jack’s fake passport—or is it his real one and the man I’m married to isn’t Jack at all? I email a few of the security files to my own computer for later. I’m notsure I’ll ever have a use for them, but I need to know they’re real—that this isn’t just something else my broken mind is manufacturing. I shove Jack’s secret laptop back where I found it and stumble out to the kitchen, headed straight for the sink just to confirm that the gun is real and right where I left it.
It glints back at me in the early morning light. I don’t know what to do. My instinct is to reach out to The Society and tell them what I’ve found, but then, I don’t even think I can trust them. Women like that don’t take well to being ignored, and I still haven’t figured out what I’m supposed to do about my dad. Is he really the villain when he’s the only person who’s been here, supporting me for all of my life? Where would I be without him? I can’t even begin to fathom.
No—revealing anything to The Society isn’t the right move. They already know far more about me than I’m comfortable with, and what do I know about them? Practically nothing. Kat speaks like they’re a loving, supportive family, but the more I know these women the more secrets they seem to keep. It’s not lost on me that I’m expected to trust them, but they don’t seem to trust me with anything other than doing their dirty work. I’m only a pawn in their revenge games.
My breathing grows ragged and shallow as thoughts swirl uncontrollably in my mind. Who can I trust? Who has it out for me? Who’s threatening me with anonymous text messages? I head back to my bedroom and straight for the walk-in closet. I pull a backpack off the shelf and shove a few changes of clothes into it along with my phone charger and laptop, then pull a pair of denim shorts on before going straight for the front door. My heart is hammering a chaotic rhythm behind my ribs and I can’t seem to catch a breath as I open the door and run straight into Aubrey.
“Oh—El—hi. I was just coming to check on you.” Warmth pools in her green eyes.
My phone vibrates with another notification then.
If I can’t have you, no one can...
I shove the phone deep in my bag as fear and panic overtake me. “I—I—” I press my lips together, sucking in a breath through my nose. My eyes flutter closed as my muscles tense with anxiety. I claw at my shirt, desperate for air. “I can’t breathe.”
“What? El—God—” she pulls the backpack from my shoulder and then guides me down to sit on the floor. “Deep breaths—just take nice, slow, deep breaths.”
I nod, trying to suck in lungfuls of air through my nose. “I—I need to get away from this apartment.”
“Oh, honey—” Aubrey pulls me into a hug, rubbing my back in slow circles just like a mother comforting a child. I let her. “Why don’t you come to my place and tell me what’s wrong?”
I nod, because I don’t know what else to do. I have nowhere to go, no one to trust. She plants a hand on my arm and gently raises me to my feet. With my backpack hung over her shoulder and our fingers laced together, she walks me down the hallway to her apartment.
Once we’re inside, she guides me to the sleek leather couch that overlooks west 60th and brings me a cold bottle of water. “I’ll let Jack know you’re safe with me—”
“No!” I bark, shaking my head desperately. “Please, don’t. I just... I just found out some things and I don’t know what to think or what to do... I just... I don’t think I know my husband like I thought I did.”
Aubrey frowns, eyebrows scrunched together as she takesme in. I see her visibly swallow before she plops down on the couch next to me. She rubs my knee softly, and then sighs.
“I was waiting for this...”
“What?” I blink away more tears as my mind spins with a thousand thoughts.
“El, Jack isn’t who he says he is.”
My heart thunders like a freight train in my ears, my vision tunneling to her sympathetic gaze holding mine. “Is anyone?”
A wry chuckle escapes her lips. “Well...” She presses her lips together as if she’s trying to keep the words from slipping out and ruining my life. “You got me there.” Silence hangs a few long beats before her expression darkens. “El—I’m...” she squeezes my hand, then sighs, “I’m not who you think either.”
“Oh God...” Anxiety causes butterflies to riot in my stomach. “Who then?”
She sniffs. Looks out the window at the morning traffic turning off broadway onto 60th. “This isn’t the right time, but God, I guess there’s never a right time for a confession like this...”
“Please, just out with it already,” I plead.
