"I was just leaving," I blurted, my voice too high.
I fled to the kitchen, dumped the mugs inthe sink, and grabbed my bag. My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped my keys.
"Anna." Jack's voice stopped me at the service entrance. He was in the hallway, his posture rigid, the moment of softness utterly gone. But his eyes held a storm I couldn't decipher. "Drive safe."
It was a dismissal. But it was also something else that I couldn’t quite place.
"Goodnight, Jack," I managed, and escaped into the elevator.
In the car, I pressed my trembling palm against the cool steering wheel. The skin still tingled. The shift was undeniable now. It was no longer just about Daisy, or the foundation, or even guilt and grief.
Something new and fragile and deeply perilous was growing between us.
At my apartment, I leaned against the closed door, trying to calm my racing heart. My phone buzzed.
A text from Jack.
Jack
Thank you. For staying. For all of it.
The words felt monumental. They acknowledged the shared quiet, the unspoken truce. My thumb hovered over the screen.
Anna
Anytime.
I hit send, a stupid, small smile forming on my lips.
The phone buzzed again immediately.
This time, the screen didn't show Jack's name. It said:Unknown Number.
The smile died instantly. Cold, familiar dread. It felt older and deeper than any feeling Jack could evoke. It poured into my veins, turning them to ice.
Unknown Number again, but this time it wasn’t Jack.
My thumb swiped the screen, numb and trembling.
The message contained only two words:
Unknown Number
Miss me?
The phone fell from my grasp, clattering onto the linoleum. The sound was distant; I was elsewhere mentally. My ears were ringing. My vision narrowed to a pinpoint.
No. No no no no no.
It couldn't be. He was behind bars. Fifteen years. It was a wrong number. A spam text. A sick coincidence.
But I knew. The certainty was bone-deep, instinctual. The same certainty I'd felt in that parking lot two years ago when Carter had looked at me with cold, calculating eyes and told me he'd destroy me if I told anyone what happened.
My legs gave out. I slid down the door, my back scraping against the wood. I wrapped my arms around my knees, but the trembling was too deep, too violent to contain. My breath came in short, sharp gasps—not enough air, never enough air.
The warm, safe feeling from Jack's touch was gone. Replaced by the phantom smell of bourbon. The blur of streetlights. The sickening thud. Carter's voice, calm and venomous:You breathe a word, and your life is over.
A sound escaped me, high and thin. A whimper I couldn't control.
