“You don’t think… did she find out about us watching her?” Oliver’s voice is filled with dread.
Grey shakes his head, but I see doubt in his eyes. “That’s not possible. How could she have?—”
“Go back in the feed,” I interrupt, my heart racing so fast I’m surprised it hasn’t burst out of my chest.
Oliver rewinds the footage, his hands shaking. We watch in stunned silence as Amelia enters her apartment in the middle of the night, hastily packing a bag. She writes the note, places it on the table, and turns to leave.
At the door, she pauses, looking back—a gesture that speaks volumes. In that moment, I see the hurt, betrayal, and determination in her eyes, and it feels like a knife twisting in my gut.
“Fuck,” Grey breathes out, the word hanging heavy in the air. “She’s gone.”
“How the hell did she find out?” I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the curls in frustration. My mind races, trying to figure out where we slipped up, how we could have been so careless.
I can’t even imagine how hurt she must be.
Oliver’s face is pale, eyes wide with panic. He stares at me, his desperation palpable. “What do we do? We can’t just let her leave like this.” I check the time on the feed, then my watch. “She’s been gone for hours.”
Grey pulls out his phone, his expression tense. “We need to find her.Now.” The urgency in his tone is clear, and I know we’re all thinking the same thing.
We can’t lose her.
As Grey tries to track her via the app he installed, I stand, pacing the room like a caged animal. The weight of our actions crashes down on me. We violated her trust, invaded her privacy, and might have lost her forever.
Rightfully so.
The thought makes me feel sick, and a wave of nausea washes over me, threatening to overwhelm my senses. My stomach churns, and I have to take deep breaths to keep myself from retching.
“We fucked up,” Oliver whispers, voicing what we’re all thinking. “Wereallyfucked up.”
“I can’t find her,” Grey grunts, getting more and more agitated while tapping his phone screen. His fingers move frantically, desperation evident in every swipe. “She has probably uninstalled the app.” He lets himself sink down on his chair, yelling, “Fuck!” while letting his phone clatter on the desk. The sound of plastic hitting wood echoes through the room. “I should have tracked her GPS!”
“And you think that would have made the situation better now? Another point on her list of reasons to hate us?” I ask, bitter sarcasm lacing every word.
“At least I’d know where on this fucking planet she was hating me from!” Grey yells at me, and I can’t even be mad at him for it.
She could be anywhere.
“I tried calling her, looks like her phone is off. I’m texting Morgan now. Maybe she’s with them,” Oliver says, typing on his phone. His voice is steady, but there is a slight tremor in his hands.
Sinking back into my chair, I feel utterly defeated. The new silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the computers. I look at Grey and Oliver, and I see my own guilt and fear reflected in their eyes.
We’ve crossed a line, and now we have to face the consequences.
The question is, will Amelia ever forgive us?
And more importantly, will we ever forgive ourselves for driving her away?
TWO
“Home, sweet home,”I whisper sarcastically, barely audible over the bustling crowd that swarms around me.
Stepping out of the airport, the familiar British air hits my face with a chilling embrace. It smells like rain and broken dreams, a bittersweet reminder of everything I’ve left behind.
I try to steel myself, repeating the mantra I’ve been clinging to throughout the flight.
I would have come here anyway.
For August.
