Page 50 of Fierce Secrets

"Of course she said that," Gray groaned.

"Did she say anything else?" I asked as I headed to the elevator, already determined to go to her myself.

"Yes, but…" Roman hesitated.

"Say it, Roman, now," I commanded.

"She said to tell you and Mr. Cassaro to, ah, go fuck yourselves."

The words shouldn't have hurt. I'd heard worse threats, dealt with more dangerous situations. But the thought of Meredith looking at me with that same fear from years ago, seeing me as the monster I truly was – it gutted me.

"Wonderful, just fucking delightful. Have we got any more progress on the blackmailer? Are you sure she's okay, Roman?" Gray fired off the questions.

"She's okay so far," Roman assured.

"Nothing. No progress." The elevator dinged and I stepped in, punching in the main floor before balling my free hand. I dug my nails into my palm, welcoming the pain, needing it to rein in the way I wanted to break something or drop a body rightnow. "Whoever it is knows how to hide themselves, and knows our families. They're playing us, and I can't fucking find them." I drew in a sharp breath, vowing to drop the bastard doing this into fresh concrete. Alive. I'd watch them drown happily in their goddamn tomb. "I'll kill them when I find them. Slowly."

"That's not the issue right now. Meredith is freaking out, we need to talk to her," Gray said sharply.

He wasn't wrong.

Meredith was out there, alone with her recovered memories, probably seeing me as the killer I'd become.

"Where's she heading, Roman?" I reached the main floor and stormed out to my waiting stand-in bodyguard and driver, needing to move, to act. To fix this somehow.

"Downtown, past the old industrial district," Roman reported. "Just turned onto Maple?—"

"The theater." The realization hit immediately. "I know where she's going. I'll meet you there, Gray."

"I'm on the other side of the city, and traffic is a bitch here." Gray cursed softly. "I'm heading there right now though. I'll be there as fast as I can. Keep me updated, I'll keep trying to call her."

"Will do."

I ended the call, already slipping into the backseat of my ride and instructing Jackson where to go. It wasn't that far from me right now. The old Victorian-style theater had been Meredith's sanctuary when she first moved to the city. She'd disappear there for hours, losing herself in plays and musicals until the newer, community-funded theater downtown had stolen all their business.

Even a year after its closure, at one of our get-togethers, she'd still talked about the productions she'd seen there. How the acoustics made every note feel like magic. How safe she'd felt in those plush velvet seats, watching stories unfold on stage.

Now she was there again, probably hiding in the darkness with her newly recovered memories, seeing me for what I really was – a monster who'd touched her with blood-stained hands.

We pulledup to the old Victorian theater, its weathered facade a shadow of its former glory. I sat for a moment, taking in the ornate stonework now streaked with age, the elaborate marquee that hadn't lit up in over two years. Meredith used to light up talking about this place, about the productions she'd seen here. She'd drag Gray to every show she could, and sometimes even convinced me to join them.

Now the building stood dark and abandoned, like so many of the lies we'd told her over the years. The afternoon sun did little to brighten the depressing building.

I could picture her inside, probably curled up in one of those familiar velvet seats where she'd once felt so safe. Where she'd escaped to whenever life became too much, when Logan and she had had a fight. The irony wasn't lost on me – she was here now, escaping from the very people who'd claimed to protect her.

Roman's car was parked discreetly across the street. I instructed Jackson to wait, then made my way to where Roman stood by the entrance.

"She went in a few minutes ago," he reported quietly. "Chain's loose enough to slip through."

"Update Gray," I instructed, already moving toward the gap in the chains. "I'll handle this."

The theater's interior was dark, musty with disuse, but I could make out Meredith's silhouette in one of the front rows. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, catching on the dust motes swirling around her.

"You shouldn't be alone," I said softly, my voice carrying in the empty space. "Not with everything that's happening."

"I remember it all." Her voice was so soft and fragile in the empty theater, and my heart ached. "What he did. What you did."

I stayed silent, watching her rise and turn to face me. In the dimming afternoon light, she looked impossibly young, impossibly lost. But it was the way she was looking at me, so broken and like she didn't know who I was, that hurt the most.

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