"Isn’t it?"
"Martine, how are you always so naive? It’s never that simple. Does he know you’re here?"
"I don’t need your concern, Archie. I need the truth."
His expression hardens. "Ask Hayden for the truth," he grabs my chin, forcing my eyes to his, like I’m still the little girl he used to know, not the woman standing in front of him. “Please don’t tell me you came here without him.”
I lift my chin, forcing his hand to drop, but he just puts it on my hip instead, pulling me even closer. "I can do as I please," but my voice wavers, I can hear the dishonesty in it clear as day. We both know I shouldn’t be here.
“Fuck Martine, you can’t possibly know—”
Before he can finish, something shifts in the air.
And I know immediately.
Hayden is here.
Archie’s gaze flicks over my shoulder, and I turn just in time to see him striding toward us, dark and furious, cutting through the party like a blade.
I have only seconds left.
I turn back to Archie quickly, desperate enough to beg. "Tell me what happened to the twins, Archie, please."
His expression is unreadable. Then, just as Hayden reaches me, he whispers, "You know I can’t tell you."
“Know what? Please!” But I can’t finish because Hayden’s hand closes around my wrist, pulling me back into his hard chest with a hard jolt.
My stomach flips, not from fear, not exactly, but from the sudden, inevitable shift in control. I left. I defied him. And now he’s here, and I’m the one who has to pay for it.
The heat of his body is at my back, a tether pulling me in. "Did you think I wouldn’t fucking find out?" His voice is quiet next to my ear. A dangerous tone, just above a whisper, but it might as well have been a shout.
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to shiver. I lift my chin, keeping my expression calm. “Of course not. I knew you would."
A muscle in his jaw ticks. I can feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken threat in the way his fingers flex around my wrist. Around us, the party continues, oblivious or pretending to be. But I know every single pair of eyes that dares glance our way. They are watching, waiting to see what Hayden Herron will do next.
I open my mouth, ready to push him further, to dig the knife in just a little more, because if I was going to pay for this, I might as wellearnit. But I don’t get the chance. Everything moves so suddenly. Because after Hayden and Archie exchange some quick and strained words, in one swift, seamless motion, Hayden lifts me off my feet, throws me over his shoulder like I’m nothing more than a troublesome possession, and carries me through the crowd as if I never had a say in the first place.
I lift my head in protest and see Archie shaking his at me, pity and amusement written on his face.
"Hayden! Put me down!" I shout, not caring that my voice echoes through the room—the partygoers who were trying so hard not to stare now openly gawk. The room watches with wide eyes and whispers, but no one steps forward.
I writhe in his hold, but it's half-hearted at best. A sick part of me enjoys being thrown over his shoulder.
"You’re causing a scene," I huff.
He quickly slaps the back of my thigh as a warning. "I thought that's what you wanted, darling."
I'm still my wiggling, a breath caught in my throat at his correction.
Then, under my breath, I can’t help the petulant tone that slides out, "Bastard."
"Keep talking, darling. It won’t end well for you."
The car door opens, and he tosses me inside with little ceremony. The door slams shut behind him, enclosing us in thick, suffocating silence. My breath comes fast, my heart hammering in my chest as I turn to face him.
He pulls a cigarette from the holder he keeps in the interior pocket of his sports coat, cracks the window of the town car just enough, and lights it. Frustration tightens his features as he drags a hand across his jaw, inhaling hard.
His hand trembles slightly. There's a look of war on his face, like he’s trying to steady himself before turning it on me.
