Page 78 of The Catalyst

A look crosses over his face, one that’s genuinely shameful, but I can’t believe it. “Baby, I promised you I wouldn’t do that again. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

“Sure,” I mutter sarcastically. “We both know what happened the last time you thought something happened between me and Martin.”

He takes a step toward me and I aim the gun to shoot the wall behind him before I pull the trigger. The loud bang that comes from the gun makes my ears ring and he jumps back.

Honestly, I don’t know if I would be able to shoot him if it came down to it. He holds a special place in my heart, much like my mother does, which is so beyond fucked.

This man has done nothing but push, push, andpushfor more. There’s literally no reason for me to feel any type of way about him.

“Take a breath, Beth,” he mutters, his eyes full of understanding, as his door is slammed open.

“What the fuck was that?!” someone yells, but I make sure not to take my eyes off of Nigel.

“What are you doing?” That was someone else.

“Just get out. I’ve got this, okay?” Nigel snaps his head around, yelling at whoever barged in, before looking back at me.

“I’m going to walk out that door and you’re not going to follow me. I don’t want you to come find me. I just want to be left alone and, if you don’t do that, Nigel, I’ll tell them what you did to me. I don’t want to, but I will if you don’tlet me go.”

I probably sound like I’ve lost my mind. He said he wanted me to leave, but I can’t trust that he’ll let me. His friends being present is probably my only saving grace.

“Nigel, what did you do?” That was definitely Ronan.

Nigel looks contemplative, like he’s trying to decide whether to let me go or let me tell them how he hurt me. I mean, theyarehis friends. Maybe he is immune to the powers of the warehouse. Then, he mutters, “Just put the gun down and you can go. No one will stop you, okay? Just take a deep breath. You’re shaking.”

My gaze drops to my hand and he’s right. My hand is jerking back and forth from the panic going through my brain. That’s the external sign that I wouldn’t be able to shoot him, even to protect myself.

I slowly walk over to the door, pointing the gun at my now ex-boyfriend before I reach the threshold. I turn and see Ronan standing there, the color drained from his face. I push the gun into his hand before darting down the stairs, holding the strap of the bag to my shoulder. With a lift of my eyes, Oliver comes into my line of sight, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, his voice shaken, but I shoulder past him to the door.

“What, do you suddenly care?” I pull open the front door and dart out before crossing through dozens of backyards to avoid being found in case Nigel changed his mind.

I won’t make the same mistake twice. I won’t be sticking to the main roads and definitely won’t let anyone distract me.

This is my great escape and I won’t be caught.

* * *

I thoughtabout making phone calls, but I don’t know how far Nigel’s reach goes. I want to get as far as I can before he changes his mind. I got directions from about a dozen strangers I passed on my way to the other side of Grove Hill–to the Grove Hill Estates. Some had absolutely no idea where the Gray place was, some ran off the second I mentioned it, but a few were helpful in telling me the way.

The directions lead me to a rod iron gate with a man sitting in a small box with a window. I walk up and he cracks the window.

“How can I help you?” he asks while reading a book in his hands.

Rude.

“I’m here to see Martin Gray.” It’s such a surprising decision that Nigel would never have guessed it. Neither would Oliver.

“Identification?” he adds.

I reach into my bag before pulling out my I.D. and slip it through the opening in the window. He takes it, puts down his book, and looks it over before handing it back to me through the gap.

A minute later, the gate opens and I look at the long driveway and realize I can’t see the damn house.

Goddamn rich people.

I take the trek up the long, windy private road with perfectly manicured trees, elegant lamp posts, and trimmed bushes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’m heading to The White House.

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