Page 185 of Their Arrangement
And whispered?—
“Don’t come back.”
I didn’t know if I meant the man who broke in.
Or me.
I didn’t fall asleep. Not really. But I must’ve lost time. The kind of time that comes after trauma—when everything blurs around the edges and your body tries to pretend none of it happened. But it had.
The door was still splintered. The lock still useless.
My shoulder still throbbed with every breath. I pulled myself off the floor. Wobbled toward the broken frame. Stared at it like it might apologize. It didn’t.
I turned. Looked at the couch. The knife was gone. Or maybe I dropped it again and didn’t remember.
A noise echoed down the hall. Small. Soft. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. My body reacted first.
I ran.
Slammed the bedroom door. Turned the lock with shaking fingers. I backed away, hit the closet, stumbled. The memory still bloomed in the corners of my mind like a bruise that wouldn’t fade. His voice. His hand. That final whisper:
Next time, I don’t leave you breathing.
I couldn’t breathe now. I dropped to my knees beside the bed. Not to hide. To survive.
My hand found the frame. Gripped it. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. My throat seized. Clogged. Swollen with panic. I tried again. Help. Someone help. Please?—
“Wolfe!”
It tore from me. Raw. Violent. Desperate.
It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t conscious. It was instinct. The only name I trusted to answer. The only name that felt like safety—even when he wasn’t safe. Even when I didn’t know what he would do. Even if it was already too late.
I clutched the edge of the bed. Whimpered into the fabric.My shoulders shook. Tears soaked the blanket. But no one came. No one answered. And I felt the truth settle low in my chest like a second heart. I’d screamed for a man who didn’t know I needed saving. Because I didn’t trust anyone else to hear me.
Not Barron.
Not Royal.
Not even Loyal.
Just Wolfe.
I curled tighter. Fingers clenched. Voice gone. But I whispered again anyway.
“Wolfe…”
And if someone had been listening from the hallway? They’d know exactly whose name I bled for.
I didn’t sleep. I sat at the edge of Wolfe’s bed with the black book in my lap like it was a live wire. I hadn’t meant to take it. But when I passed his office, and the hallway was dark, and no one was watching—I did. Camille’s birthday still lived in the code. And now the book lived in me.
My fingers trembled as I opened the cover. Names. Dates. Wire transfers. Blackmail. A history of every sin the Lawlors never wanted written down.
Camille’s name was there once. Faint. Crossed out. I wanted to burn it. I wanted to give it to Selene. I wanted to hide it under the floorboards and pretend it never existed.
But what I did instead?
I wrapped it in the silk blouse Barron sent me. Tied it with the ribbon Wolfe once told me to keep around my throat. And I locked it in Wolfe’s drawer. Not to hide it. To return it.
