Closing my eyes, my tears freeze upon impact as they hit the railing. A mirror of where I stand. I'm at an impasse. There’s no clear path forward. What do I do? What am I supposed to do? Each man occupies a distinct place in my heart. They’re both important. Both so fucking fulfilling. But it can never work. Not with so many secrets. Not with so many broken layers of trust.
I stand alone for what feels like hours, days, and I cry. I cry so much that the skies begin to join me, flakes of snow viciously tumbling down from the hovering clouds above.
As I’m lost in the sorrow of my own making, soft footsteps sound behind me, and my breath hitches.
In the dim starlight, I turn around. My heart races, and I wipe away my tears, searching for the source of the footsteps. For a brief moment, the night shrouds the approaching silhouette, and I gasp when their face comes into focus.
“You… What’re you doing here?”
“I’m sorry, bella. This might hurt.”
Before I can react, a crowbar connects with my skull with a sickening thud. Pain explodes in my head, and my vision blurs. The world tilts, and I feel myself falling under the stars.
THE CHASE
QUINTON
Two and a half hours.That's how long Emery's been gone. Anxiety gnaws at me as I pace around the ballroom, the hour hand on my watch nearly reaching midnight. I know I should give her space, allow her the autonomy she needs to sort through the mess of emotions we're all entangled in. But the uncertainty of what she and Damon might be doing together eats at me.
I rub my temples, trying to soothe the unease. Despite the party, the chatter, the excitement of an impending new year, the villa feels eerie, almost suffocating as each passing minute feels like a damn eternity.
What are they doing? What is he doing? For her? To her? Is she okay?
My mind spins, and I’m trapped between wanting to respect her choices and wanting to protect her from whatever chaos Damon plans to unleash.
With a frustrated sigh, impatience wins, and I decide to head to Damon's room. It's a compromise, a way to check on her without being overbearing.
I want to barge in. But I don’t. I knock. It kills me but I knock. And then I knock again. And again. Until I can’t fight it anymore. Twisting the unlocked knob, I enter the room. Partial relief washes over as I scan the empty suite.
But then I see it, Damon’s plan, and my throat dries. There’s an engagement ring on the bed.
Again? He asked her again?! I didn’t even get a chance to?—
My gaze shifts to a painting of a forest resting beside the ring, and I swallow hard, attempting to piece together what the hell happened here in the last two hours.
My unease deepens as I pick up the ring. A black diamond. How very Damon. She deserves something bright. My pocket burns but I push the anger away.
Focus, Quinton. Focus.
They’re not here. Either of them. Maybe he didn’t ask. Maybe he didn’t get the opportunity. Maybe his plan went awry. But… But where are they?
In a hurry, I leave the room, my footsteps urgent as I search the villa for any sign of Emery and Damon. My heart pounds in my chest, a heavy ache settling in my gut.
As I approach the study, I notice the door is ajar.What the hell is going on?I push the door open gently, only to find Damon inside, precariously balancing a whiskey glass in one hand, his face etched with despair.
"Cavanaugh.” I storm into the study, hands balled up into fists. "What's going on? Where’s Emery?"
He looks up at me, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "Well, look who’s finally decided to join the party," he says, his speech slurred. "Have a drink, Quinton, huh?” He motions to the bottleof Glenlivet on the side table next to him. “Celebrate your victory."
“What are you talking about?” I glance across the room, my worry deepening. "Where's Emery, Damon? What happened?"
He tries to take a sip of his whiskey but spills half of it on the floor.Christ, how much has he had to drink?
"Don’t pretend, Quinton. We both know she ran back to you. She’s always running, that girl." He snorts, lids droopy. “We had that in common. Run, run, run. Always running.”
"What happened, Damon?" I demand, my patience wearing thin. “What did you do? Where is she?”
Damon's face contorts with anguish. "I did everything I could, Quinton. I said it all and," he hitches a weak shoulder, “it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. So go.” He flicks his arm in the direction of the door. “Go celebrate your win…because me? I don’t win. I lose, Quinton. I always lose.”
