Page 74 of The Woman

As soon as I’m home, I walk into the living room expecting to see her by the window drawing, but there’s nothing but sunlight occupying the space on the floor, along with a handful of pencils and a half-finished sketch. I study it for a moment, my admiration growing and my chest puffing up with pride as I trace my eyes over her drawing of the view from our building. She’s so fucking talented.

“Avery,” I call out, tugging off my tie and suit jacket and draping it over the back of the couch.

I head into the kitchen, downing a glass of juice while waiting for her to make an appearance. But silence is the only thing I get in return, and a small amount of unease prickles at me.

Walking down the hall, I glance into her old room as I pass it. It’s almost empty now, with nothing in it but a set of drawers and a neatly made bed. It seems like so long ago now that I made her stay in there, trying to keep a distance from what she was supposed to be to me.

I can’t say how I would have behaved if I’d known who and what she was back then, but I think I was always attracted to the tiny slivers of personality that she would let slip. She’s had my attention from the very first moment, when I was walking past her in that row of women and she locked eyes with me. I thought I was seeing things at the time, but I know better now.

“Avery,” I repeat as I walk into my bedroom, my heart rate slowly picking up speed when there is still no reply, and I don’t find her in the bathroom.

Her silk robe sits bunched up on the counter, and yesterday’s clothes are by the tub where I peeled them off her. That in itself is alarming, considering she never leaves clothes lying around, even when I’ve told her she doesn’t have to be the one to clean them up.

Next, I walk into the closet, my eyes flicking around the room, but she’s not there either.

“Fucking answer me.”

A foreboding feeling starts settling into my stomach, causing it to tighten as I walk out of there and start searching each room with urgency but come up empty. Where the fuck is she?

My heart has switched from beating at an increased tempo to a heavy pounding that can be heard in my ears as I step back into the living room. My gaze swings around the room, trying to catch onto something, anything that I didn’t see before that could indicate where in the fuck she is.

“Avery!“ I yell, though I’m sure she’s not here.

I do another thorough sweep of each room, tearing the covers off the bed as if she could be hiding under it but finding only her lacy underwear, then running my hands through the clothes hanging in the closet as if she could be behind them, knocking some of them off the hangers as I go. Pillows end up on the floor, and any items that could have been hiding her end up askew or sideways.

Sinking down onto the couch, I drop my head in my hands and pull harshly on my hair while my elbows press into my knees, breaths coming out fast and heavy through a clenched jaw.

My mind races and whirls with thoughts of what’s happened to her, where she’s ended up, and what could be happening to her.

Would she have left the apartment by herself? I wouldn’t put it entirely past her, especially with how frustrated she was this morning.

But fuck, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to get off on the main floor, and the parking garage is the only other option if she actually left on her own. I doubt she’d go down there just to hang out.

Who the fuck could have taken her?

Even as I think it, I know the answer is pretty obvious. Apart from some random person breaking into my home, the only other people who would have the authority to do something like this are the ones who deal with all WOUN.

It could have been that sweep thing Edison mentioned. Did they come in and find her drawing?

You would think they would have called me first and asked some questions, but I’ve never dealt with them before, nor do I know anyone who has, so maybe that’s not their MO.

Or did someone report her? They could have come in and taken her away because of that.

Either way, I think she would end up in the same place.

There’s only one person who for sure knows what she is . . .

My feet are taking me to the elevator before I’ve even finished that thought. Anger and worry make a potent mix inside my body, causing irrational thoughts to swim through my mind.

Once I’m downstairs, I make a last-minute decision to search the parking garage, looking between cars and in dark corners. I know she’s not fucking here, but I keep looking anyway until every inch has been scoured.

Minutes later, I’m pounding against his door with a force that sends pain through my fist.

“Phoenix? What are you doing here?” Thomas asks when he swings the door open, his brows lifting and eyes widening when he sees my expression.

I step closer, gripping his shirt in my fists. “Did you fucking tell someone? I swear I will end you if you did.”

“What?” he asks, his face scrunching up as he raises his hands to my wrists. “What are you talking about?”

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