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"No, Hunter," she screamed, growing hysterical again, eyes flashing with fear and determination. "No!"

I felt her release my hand moments before she jerked out of my embrace and dove for the knife on the floor.

"Don’t fucking touch that, baby," I strangled out, watching in despair as she infiltrated herself deeper into my world. "Goddammit, Hope!"

"Now you have no choice," she warned, voice trembling as she mixed her fingerprints with mine – as she corrupted the evidence. "We're in this together."

Dropping the knife, she barreled into my arms. "Together," she sobbed, pressing her blood-stained face to my chest. "Promise me that we'll stick together!"

"I promise," I croaked out, letting my heart get the better of my common sense. I wrapped her up in my arms and exhaled a shuddering breath. She was here. Living. Breathing. In my arms. "Shh, baby," I coaxed, trying to soothe her. "I've got you."

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Chapter Two

Jordan

Several hours had passed since Hope ran out, and I had tried calling her countless times. Every one of those calls had gone straight to voicemail.

Something was wrong.

Something worse than her being mad at me.

I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, one I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

It was the reason I was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

"Jay, get up!" Annabelle demanded as she burst into the living room, armed with Hope's MacBook. "I need to show you something."

"What are you doing with that?" I asked, pulling myself into a sitting position.

"That's what I need to show you." Sinking down on the couch beside me, she lifted the lid of the computer and sighed. "I've been sitting on this for hours," she explained. "Worrying."

"Worrying about what?" I replied flatly.

"Jay." She bit down on her bottom lip. "I need you to not freak out when I show you this."

"Show me what?" I demanded, feeling the familiar pang of dread settle in the pit of my stomach. "What's going on?"

"It's Hope," she whispered.

"What about her?" I demanded, panicked now. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Annabelle sneered, tone laced with disgust. "But I'm not sure you will be," she placed the computer on my lap, "once you read these."

My attention went straight to the screen of the MacBook. The tab for Hope's imessages was open. "You went through her messages?" I asked, angry now. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I had a hunch," she snapped, cheeks flushed. "The way they were around each other at the bar, and then him coming here yesterday. I knew something was off. I knew if I gave her enough rope, she'd hang herself. And I wasright!" Leaning forward, Annabelle tapped on a message thread and clicked her tongue. "They both have iPhones. Her messages automatically upload to her cloud and is synced with her Mac, meaning we have full access to all their conversations."

"I don’t understand," I hissed, feeling like I was missing something crucial here. "Her conversations with who? What the hell is going on here, Annie?"

"I'm sorry, Jordan," Annabelle whispered. "But your wife is cheating on you."

"No," was my kneejerk reaction. Slamming the lid closed, I handed the laptop back to Annabelle and hissed, "She wouldn’t do that, and you shouldn’t be invading her privacy!"

"I’m not lying to you, Jordan," Annabelle bit out, her expression one of hurt. "Hope is sleeping with that man!"

"Then you've got it wrong." I shook my head, refusing to entertain the thought. "She's not…she…fuck!"

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