Page 226 of By His Rule

I’ve spoken to Tate, told her where I was and who I was with, but other than that, I’ve been pretty vague. She has questions—lots of freaking questions. Questions I really don’t want to deal with.

I let out a heavy sigh and rest my head against the window.

I’m exhausted, both physically and mentally. All I want to do is put some comfy clothes on and curl up in my bed.

My muscles ache for it, and my eyes immediately get heavy at the prospect of shutting the world out and getting some decent sleep.

I sense Kian glance over at me. My skin burns with his attention, but I don’t look back. I can’t.I’m afraid that if look him in the eye, something I really don’t want or need to say is going to come spilling out of my mouth.

So instead, I focus on the outside and the passing city until my surroundings become more familiar and I spot my building in the distance.

I thought I’d feel excited to finally get some real space from him, but as Jamie brings the car to a stop beside my entrance, all I feel is the dread and confusion multiplying.

I shift to the edge of my seat, ready to climb out the second Jamie allows it. I’d let myself out if I didn’t know it would put that sad, puppy dog look on his face. My heart can’t handle that right now.

With my eyes locked on the door, I shoot a quick, “Thank you for the trip,” over my shoulder.

I move farther forward, desperate to exit before he can respond, but Jamie isn’t fast enough.

“Come home with me,” Kian says, his voice deep, maybe even a little sad.

“I can’t, Kian. We agreed.”

The door opens and I finally make my escape.

“Message me when you’re inside,” he says.

“Okay,” I agree quietly, so quietly I’m not sure if he actually hears me.

Jamie carries my suitcase to the elevator, but I refuse to let him escort me all the way to my apartment.

I’m a grown-ass woman; I don’t need any man to stand in an elevator with me.

That night was a freak accident. It won’t happen again.

I recite those exact words to myself long after I’ve said goodbye to Jamie, and I don’t stop until I spill out into my hallway. It’s also the first time in long minutes that I suck in a real breath.

“Get a fucking grip, Lorelei,” I mutter to myself as I tug my small suitcase toward my apartment.

But just when I think everything is about to get easier, my eyes land on the busted lock of my front door.

My heart drops into my feet as dread seeps like poison through my veins.

“What the?—”

Hesitantly, I push the door open.

I breathe a sigh of relief when everything looks as it should. I mean, honestly, I have nothing worth stealing. Now that Tate has moved out with her designer handbags and shoes, there is nothing worthy of the effort of breaking in.

Abandoning my suitcase, I forge on. The living room is fine, untouched, and I begin to wonder if whoever broke in got spooked and ran before they could do anything.

But then I get to my bedroom.

I freeze in the doorway and stare at the devastation before me.

Everything is trashed. Furniture has been upended. My clothes and accessories are everywhere. My sheets have been torn from the bed and ripped to shreds.

But none of that is what makes acid swim in the pit of my stomach.

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