Page 40 of Oblivion

“I—”

He cuts me off before I can speak. “I think you freaked out about not being one of us, so you got back together with that guy because he was familiar and you knew exactly what the future looked like with him. But the truth is, you never wanted him or the life he had planned for you both. You just wanted to belong. But Sammy, you’ve belonged since the day Starling brought you home. You’re one of us. You always have been. Now you’re Evan’s.”

“I’m not his,” I protest.

Instead of speaking, the sound of his rumbly, amused laugh vibrates through the phone. “See you at home, Sammy.”

“See you in a few hours,” I say on a resigned sigh.

20

EVAN

There’s a smug sense of pride that fills me as I watch Sammy get dumped. Maybe if she was a little more upset, I’d feel some remorse, but despite how much I know she’ll argue with me, she doesn’t really care about him, at least not in the way she should care about someone she intended to marry.

Before Drew arrived, I arranged for a car service to be waiting near where she parked her Tesla, ready to drive her straight to the private jet that’s scheduled to take her back home. I know she won’t call me for help, so I had Bastian, Clay, and Hunter, as well as Starling, ready to inform Sammy of her travel arrangements, should she call them.

I’m not hugely surprised to find that it’s Bastian that she calls. They bicker like siblings, but he cares deeply for her, and I know he’ll be almost as pleased at her homecoming as Starling will be.

Once I’m sure she’s headed toward the car, I step out of my hiding place. “Drew,” I call, squaring my shoulders and clearing my expression as my wild one’s ex-fiancé turns to look at me.

“Can I help you?” he asks, his lips pulling down into a frown when he recognizes me. “You,” he hisses.

“Evan Morris,” I say, stepping forward and holding out my hand to him.

Just like I knew he would, he grasps my hand and shakes. Disappointingly, his grip is weak and pathetic. A part of me had wondered if he’d try to break my hand or at least do something. I sent him a picture of me snuggled with his half-naked fiancée. If it was the other way around, I’d want to kill him.

“Drew Merrick.”

“I know,” I say simply.

“You sent me those pictures?” he asks.

“I did.”

“Why?” he looks genuinely unsure and for some reason that pisses me off.

“Because she’s mine.”

Blinking, he stares up at me, confusion screaming from his body language.

“She said she didn’t cheat on me. I’m assuming she lied?”

Scoffing, I shake my head. “She didn’t lie.”

“Then why—” he starts.

“Because I can,” I state. “Because I wanted to see if you’d pick her over your career. You didn’t. But mainly because I wanted you to see just how easily I could ruin your life if you ever go near her again. Samantha Hartley doesn’t exist to you anymore. You don’t call her or text her. You lose her email address and block her on social media. If you ever try to speak to her again, I’ll ruin you, and I don’t mean I’ll share those pictures and sully her reputation. I mean I’ll ruin you. I’ll destroy your life and that of your family and everyone important to you. I’ll bankrupt you and see you living on the streets, and I’ll do it all with a smirk on my face without breaking a sweat. Because Sammy is mine, and unlike you, I’m not stupid enough not to see her worth. I’ll never let her go. I’m far too selfish to ever free her, so she’ll be mine until her dying day. Do you understand?”

As he listens to me speak, Drew’s eyes widened, and his jaw drops open in shock.

“You’re insane,” he croaks.

“Utterly.” I laugh.

“Who are you?”

“Evan Harold Morris. Google me. I quite like the picture they have of me,” I taunt.

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