Page 50 of Damsel in Defense
“Come on, Vic.Pick up, pick up,” I mutter.It rings straight to voicemail.“What the hell is happening?”
Next, I call Falcon, the head of her security team.
No answer.
Deciding I’ve had enough of this fucking guessing game, I call the studio.I’m put on hold for what feels like a decade before I speak to a receptionist.
“Sorry, no one named Neil works here.And I’m not seeing a notebook here at reception if someone did find it.”
My blood runs cold.
“What do you mean there’s no Neil?”I snap.“She got a text this morning saying her notebook was found at the studio.She was supposed to meet him there.”
“I’m not sure who would’ve sent that.I can check with the sound team, but there’s no Neil on-site.And from my system, I can see that Tori isn’t meant to be back recording until tomorrow.”
I open my mouth, ready to argue with the woman that Victoria has to be there, when a voice in the background stops me cold.
“Yo!Are you talking about Tori Westwyld?She’s on the news.She’s been in a major accident on—”
My stomach drops.My hearing goes in and out, making me dizzy.I hang up and stagger to the front door.Yanking it open, I frantically search for the other member of our security team.I see him standing in the far corner.
“Have you heard from Falcon?”I demand.The man looks at me with confusion before his phone starts ringing.I’ve taken one step toward him, thinking he has news on Victoria, when my phone starts going off.I look down and immediately change direction, back into the condo.
“No fucking way,” the guard says from behind me, his voice harsh.
I whirl toward the TV, which I left playing low in the background.Switching from the streaming app to the local station, I’m instantly bombarded with a horrifying image.A bold redBREAKING NEWSbanner flashes across the bottom of the screen.
“—confirmed earlier today, country music superstar Tori Westwyld was involved in a car accident just blocks away from the downtown core.Sources say her vehicle collided with another after what’s being described as a ‘mechanical failure.’Bystanders report the star was pulled from the wreckage unconscious.Her condition is unknown.She was transported to Toronto General Hospital, where she remains under observation—”
The remote falls to the floor.
I don’t remember moving.
One second, I’m staring at the screen, lungs frozen in my chest.The next, I’m grabbing my keys and bolting for the door, heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to break free.The other security guard is hot on my heels, saying something to me, but I’m not registering it.
I need to get to her.
This can’t be happening again.
My brain is a blur of sirens and screeching tires and that last look she gave me before walking out the door.The little smile, the hair she tucked behind her ear.
“See you soon.”
She should have been right back.
Right fucking back.
Please, God.Let her be okay.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MASON
The hospital doors slide open with a whoosh, but I don’t wait for them to fully part.I shoulder through the gap and head straight for the reception desk.
“I’m looking for Victoria Westwyld,” I bark.My voice is raw with emotion.“She was in a car accident.She was just brought in.”
The nurse behind the counter doesn’t flinch.“Are you family?”
