“Is that all she is to you?” Tristan demands, his voice sharp.
I don’t have an answer. My brain is a roaring wasteland of noise. All I know is the pain. All I know is the absence of her.
“I need air,” I mutter, pushing myself away from the wall I’ve been leaning against. “I can’t... I can’t think in here.”
No one tries to stop me as I stagger toward the door. They understand. We’ve always dealt with the static differently. Diego cooks, losing himself in the process of creating something. Tristan talks, filling the air with words as if he could drown out the noise with his own voice. Dane goes silent, retreating inward. For him, the world goes quiet. Our chatter, the hum of the city, all of it fades to a dull background hum.
And me? I move. I walk. I try to outrun a noise that’s inside my own head.
The elevator ride down is a blur of pain and disorientation. By the time I reach the lobby, my shirt is soaked with sweat, my hands trembling so badly I have to shove them into my pockets.
“Sir?” Sternam looks up in alarm as I exit the elevator.
“Everything’s fine,” I manage, the lie so transparent it’s almost laughable. “Just... going for a walk.”
He doesn’t believe me. I can see it in his eyes. But he knows better than to press. “Of course, sir. Should I call for the car?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I need to walk.”
I push through the glass doors of the lobby and out onto the street. The morning air is cool against my feverish skin, but it does nothing to quiet the roaring in my head. If anything, the outside world, with its traffic and pedestrians and general cacophony, only makes it worse.
I turn left, heading in the direction I saw her taxi go. It’s a pointless gesture. She’s long gone by now, probably halfway across town. But my feet carry me anyway, as if by following her path I might somehow recapture some of the peace she brought.
The static doesn’t relent. If anything, it seems to grow worsewith each step, as if the distance between us is directly proportional to the pain in my head. I make it three blocks before I have to stop, bracing myself against the side of a building, my breathing harsh and ragged.
A memory surfaces through the noise: Zoe, curled on the couch in the penthouse, a book in her lap, a small, private smile on her face as she reads. The way she looked up when I entered the room, that smile widening just a fraction, just for me. The way the static went completely, blissfully silent the moment our eyes met.
The quiet. The peace. It wasn’t just a relief from the noise. It was a glimpse of something I’d never had before, never even known was possible. A stillness at the center of the storm. A place to rest.
And we let her walk away, thinking all she was to us was a cure for our pain.
I push myself away from the wall, forcing my legs to carry me back toward Sterling Tower. Each step is an act of will, a battle against the roaring in my head.
By the time I reach the glass doors of the lobby again, I’m barely holding it together. Sternam takes one look at me and is instantly at my side, his arm coming around my shoulders to support me.
“Sir,” he says, his voice low and urgent. “You need to sit down. Let me call a doctor.”
“No,” I manage, shaking my head. “No doctors. Just... need to get upstairs.”
He helps me to the elevator, his concern evident in the careful way he handles me, as if I might shatter at any moment. And maybe I will. Maybe that’s what’s happening. The static is finally breaking me apart, piece by piece.
“Sir,” Sternam says as the elevator doors open, “if I may... Ms. Clarke seemed upset when she left. Is everything alright?”
The question is so inadequate, so woefully insufficient to describe the catastrophe that’s unfolding, that I almost laugh.But the sound that comes out is more like a wounded animal’s whimper.
“No,” I admit, stepping into the elevator. “Nothing is alright.”
The doors close, and I’m alone in the silent box as it begins its ascent back to the penthouse. Back to my brothers, who are suffering just as I am.
The agony is so profound that a single, terrifying thought cuts through the roaring noise in my head.
Mine. Gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Zoe
The apartment feels strange.
