Page 44 of You Belong With Me

I follow them as closely as I can, pleading with anyone who might listen topleaselet him go. There’s obviously been a huge mistake. But even as I cling to that hope with white-knuckles, my mind replays that last conversation we had…

If you knew what I’ve done, just to touch you, Wyn…You’d never forgive me.

What could he possibly have done? Is this about the stalking? I did file a police report when it all started, but there hasn’t been a peep about it since then. If they knew enough to make an arrest, they would have told me…

Wouldn’t they?

My gaze sweeps across the sheer amount of police officers scattered across the lawn and porch. This isn’t about Lucas stalking me. This is something much bigger. Something that justifies calling in this level of backup.

Christian walks up behind me. “That was a cunt move back there,” he says, and for once, his voice lacks humor.

Tears slide down my cheeks, and all I can focus on is Lucas, and what’s happening. “There has to be something we can do,” I say, turning to face Christian. “Someone we can call? A fucking senator or something?”

“Wyn,” Christian says. “Our team will handle this. We have to get you out of here before the police realize who you are…”

I blink at him, clearing the tears from my lashes, so my vision isn’t so blurred. “What do you mean?” I ask. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

There’s something in Christian’s face that tells me he knowswaymore than he’s admitting. “Lucas wanted me to take you home, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

I glance over at Lucas, his arms secured behind his back as he’s put into the back of a police car. Right before the door is shut, he glances in my direction, his eyes locking with mine. There’s a sadness there that I’ve never seen in him before. It feels like he’s saying goodbye…

Forever.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lucas

My arms are pulledbehind my back at an awkward angle, the handcuffs painfully tight. I don’t speak. I don’t say anything as we hurl down the road toward the Sheriff’s Station.

The moment my brother said the police were at the house, I knew. Something in my gut told me everything that’s happened in the last couple of months had finally caught up with me.

When I got to the house, the police presented me with a warrant for my arrest, then read me my rights as they handcuffed me, and led me out onto the lawn.

My only regret is wrapping Wyn up in all of this. She had no idea what the fuck was going on—and I’d intended to keep it that way for as long as I could. And maybe it’s fucked up, but everything I did, I’d do all over again, just to get those few blissful weeks with Wyn.

When we pull up to the station, my lawyer and Jackson’s uncle, John McKnight, is already waiting for us in the parking lot, dressed in a suit and tie.

McKnight looks pissed. His graying hair is combed back, his mouth pulled into a hard line, jaw clenched. The guy is anabsolute shark and has access to some of the most powerful people in the government—both in the U.S. and abroad. That’s just one of the reasons he’s the best.

I’m hauled out of the backseat of the cruiser and into the station. McKnight follows, barking orders at the police officers—everything from this being a clear violation of my constitutional rights to the promise that he’s going to sue “every-fucking-person involved in this case” once this is over.

With a hand clasped around my elbow, I’m led down the hallway and shoved into an interrogation room. McKnight turns to the officer handling me. “I need a moment alone with my client,” he says stiffly. When the officer nods and moves to leave, he stops them. “Whoa, hold on.” He points to the upper corner of the room. “Cameras off.”

With a huff, the officer grabs a chair and pulls it over to the wall. He climbs up onto it and flips something on the back of the camera, which switches the red light off.

“Are there any other recording devices in this room?” McKnight asks.

“No, that’s it,” the officer replies.

“Great. Get out.”

When the officer is gone, McKnight shuts the door and sits down across from me. He opens up his leather notebook and pins me with a withering stare. I’ve known John McKnight my whole life, so his disapproving look feels like being scolded by an uncle.

“You’re in some serious shit,” he says, leaning back.

“I hadn’t noticed,” I reply with a smirk.

McKnight shakes his head. “You’re from a good family, Lucas, and you’re continuing your family’s legacy, which I can appreciate. You and the other guys. But the Sacred Sons aren’t being careful enough. We have an understanding with the police,but they can only turn a blind eye to so much before people start asking questions…”

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