Page 2
He sent another message, then another, watching the screen for the smallest indication that she had read them. Every time he checked, the messages remained unanswered.
A cold, unfamiliar dread crept beneath his anger.
Silas returned to the window and shoved the curtain aside. Snow swept across the street in thick, swirling sheets, obscuring the buildings opposite. The world outside looked strangely distant, swallowed by the storm and the darkness.
He pressed his phone to his ear again.
Voicemail.
His fingers tightened around the device until his knuckles turned white. He lowered it, stared at the screen, then lifted it again and dialed her number.
Still nothing.
"Pick up, Allison," he muttered, his voice rough with frustration. "Goddamn it, just pick up."
He paced across the room, turned sharply near the bed, and walked back toward the window. His thoughts chased one another in increasingly frantic circles. Where was she going? Who was she with? Why hadn't she told him anything?
And why did her message sound so final?
He stopped in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling beneath his shirt. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this angry, yet beneath the fury was something far more frightening.
Fear.
He was afraid she was really leaving.
He was afraid that if she walked away tonight, he wouldn't know where to find her tomorrow.
And he was terrified that whatever had driven her to make this decision had already happened.
The thought made his stomach twist.
He dragged both hands through his hair, gripping the back of his head as he tried to force himself to think rationally. He needed to calm down. He needed to stop imagining the worst and find out what was happening.
But how could he calm down when she wouldn't even answer his calls?
By three in the morning, he could barely stand the tension coursing through his body. His shoulders were rigid, his breathing shallow, and his heart pounded so hard that he could feel each beat against his ribs. He paced until his legs ached, then stopped only long enough to check his phone before starting all over again.
Every unanswered call made the next one more desperate.
He dialed her number again.
This time, the call connected.
Silas went completely still.
For a moment, he couldn't even speak. All he could hear was the faint sound of the connection, and he held the phone so tightly against his ear that it hurt.
"Allison?" he said at last.
Silence.
His grip tightened around the phone. The relief that had flashed through him at the thought of finally reaching her evaporated, leaving his anger exposed and raw.
Every second she refused to speak drove another nail into his already fraying patience. He had spent the entire night trying to reach her, trapped in a dark bedroom with nothing but unanswered calls and a message telling him to forget she existed. Now that he had finally gotten through to her, she wouldn't even give him the courtesy of an explanation.
His jaw tightened, and his fingers curled around the phone.
“If you disappear tonight, Allison, don't you ever dare show your face in front of me again!”
