Page 97 of Power
“No!” I cried, scrambling beneath my desk, making myself as small as possible, the way I always did when I hid under my childhood bed.
What had I been thinking? Marcus had proven he was dangerous when he’d stalked me to my home and threatened me, so why the hell did I think I could control this? It was naive and reckless, and I’d let my desire to protect Jace cloud my better judgment.
As Marcus’s polished shoes stepped closer, I retreated further under the desk. He reached for me, but I kicked wildly at his grasping hands.
“You tell anyone about this,” he hissed, backing away slowly, “you’re dead.”
His footsteps receded. The door squeaked open with a groan, and then there was silence, the only sound my broken, ragged sobs.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, shivering, crying, trying to reclaim the adult Scarlett I’d painstakingly built from bruises and scars and determination. My ribs throbbed with each shallow breath, and my scalp burned where he’d pulled my hair.
Then a sound. Footsteps in the hallway, growing louder. Closer to my office.
My entire body went rigid with terror. The pattern of those footfalls was familiar.
Marcus had returned.
To finish what he started.
49
JACE
I glared at my phone, finally striding toward Scarlett’s office. If she wasn’t here, so help me God, I’d show up at her apartment.
Avoiding me? Really?
What surprised me most was how deeply it bothered me.
The realization was unsettling, how I was at the mercy of her choices. If she decided to never speak to me again, I wasn’t sure how I’d handle it. Somehow, I knew she’d haunt me, that I’d never stop wondering what she was doing, who she might be with. The thought of her with another man had me swiping my thumb over my lip as irrational jealousy surged through me.
Worried I’d find her with another man, at this exact moment, no less, was as illogical as it was unrealistic. It probably spoke to how unhinged I was feeling right now. Scarlett had made it painfully clear she didn’t date.
Plus, there were plenty of rational reasons she’d be avoiding me, but my heart was a jealous, possessive beast striding toward her office, praying I wouldn’t find her with some other guy. Because if I did, I’d slam him against the wall and make these bruises on my knuckles look like child’s play.
As I approached her office, my unease deepened when I saw that the blinds that separated her space from the hallway wereclosed. There was absolutely no reason for that unless she was trying to hide something.
God help me, I steeled myself as I rounded the doorway and stepped inside. The office appeared empty, but instantly, my gut twisted as goose bumps prickled across the back of my neck. A framed photo of Buttercup lay on the floor, alongside several awards Scarlett had received. Books from the shelf were scattered along the ground, some splayed open with cracked spines.
What the hell?
Jealousy and possessiveness evaporated, instantly replaced by cold, suffocating panic. It looked like there had been a struggle, one that left Scarlett’s phone lying haphazardly in the corner.
Holy shit.Did her dad get released from jail and attack her? No. He’d never make it past security into this building, but what the hell happened, and where the hell was she?
I pivoted on my heel, swiping open my phone to call security when something stopped me dead.
A sound. Faint, almost imperceptible.
I stilled, straining my ears, recognizing what it was when it came again: a whimper.
Scanning the space urgently, I heard it again. Striding deeper into the room, I rounded the desk, spotting her high heels lying on their sides, one broken at the base. My gut clenched, and when I heard the soft sob again, I finally caught a flash of skin.
Scarlett.
She was under her desk.
“Scarlett!”
