Page 253 of Quinlan

That worries me. What lurks at the bottom.

A closet door being slammed in my face. An uncontrolled fire.

Why? No fucking idea. I’m just…blank.

My Zippo rests on my office desk. Gold and heavy.

I should reach for it. A flick of my thumb, the familiar flame. I’ll be fine then.

Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s out of place.

Quinlan’s resting, which is the best thing I could’ve hoped for. After years of being treated like a cash cow, slash the help. Finally, she’s been taking some much-needed time for herself. We get to spoil her.

While I miss stalking her from the camera on her laptop, she never misses a single call. Answers every text.

There’s no reason to worry. I called her about an hour ago just to hear her voice. She was fine. She was waiting for us to be back home.

Our precious woman is fine.

I leave my Zippo untouched, spinning my chair to look at the outside world. At the view from my office. She could be doing the same thing. Staring outside, imagining us here.

Only…I can do more than imagine her.

The cameras I had installed in our home while she was sleeping last week would give me a direct view of her, if she’s in the living room. We won’t be discussing our revenge plans anymore, so we’re not worried about anyone hacking them.

I haven’t used it before. Haven’t felt this empty before, either.

Quinlan will forgive me for the invasion of her privacy. She’ll call me a stalker, maybe even yell at me. I’ll fuck accusations out of her.

End of story.

A few clicks, and I’ll see her. Except…Fuck. I can’t lie to her.

My eyes slam shut. I visualize her instead. Smell her sweet scent. Feel her skin bending. Watch my friends around us, taking turns in kissing her. In living our perfectly normal lives. Our almost happily ever after.

Visualizing it should’ve filled the black hole in my heart.

Nothing. Maybe calling her would fix this.

“Liam.” Damien’s here, his voice urgent.

This has to be something to do with work. Has to be.

Of course it doesn’t.

The bottomless pit in my chest. This endless tumble.

Quinlan.

I’m up on my feet, shoving my chair back. It cracks against the edge of the desk at the force. I spin to find both my friends in my office, their expressions harsh and horrified and what the fuck.

“Where. Is. She.” I don’t recognize my own voice.

“We have to move.” Rome’s knuckles shine brighter than I’ve ever seen them, his fists clenched tight. “RexandAria managed to lose our investigators less than an hour ago.”

Can’t move. Can’t do anything.

The Zippo.

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