Page 24 of Drift
Then he left, the door closing behind him with a soft snick.
Edge was right.
But knowing that didn’t spur any action.
Over the next couple of nights, I watched her.
From my office. From my laptop. From my phone. Everywhere.
On the club’s cameras…and the damn cameras I’d installed myself.
I told myself it was for her protection. That if anything happened, I’d see it coming first. But that wasn’t the whole truth. I just needed to know she was safe. Needed proof that the danger wasn’t close enough to touch her.
And maybe I just needed to see her.
Sometimes she had to go to campus, and she’d come home late, hair twisted up, eyes tired. She’d drop her bag on the couch, make tea, and curl up with her laptop until she fell asleep in the glow of the screen. Every time she moved, my pulse followed like it had its own leash.
By the third night, the tension in my gut hadn’t eased. It had sharpened.
That was when I drifted across yet another line.
She was at the library until almost ten. I knew because I’d watched through the live feed as her car pulled in and parked, then as she walked up to her apartment. I waited until she’d gone to bed before I headed to her place.
Her lock was good. But not good enough. And I almost stormed into her bedroom and blistered her pretty little ass when I realized she hadn’t set the alarm. Even if it served my purposes for the night.
Inside, it was warm and faintly sweet—her delicious scent made my mouth water. Her phone sat on the kitchen counter, plugged in, the case worn smooth at the edges. I was a little disappointed that she didn’t keep it in her bedroom, giving mean excuse to go in there…but it was probably for the best. I wasn’t convinced I would have been able to leave.
It took two minutes to clone her cell. I’d done the same for club security plenty of times, and this was no different. That was what I told myself as I set the alarm, then walked out and locked the door behind me.
The next day, the first message from Ethan came in.
He asked about the project, and even though it was through text, I could hear his snippy tone.
When she didn’t reply, he sent another message telling her not to ignore him.
Again, no response, so his next comment was a threat about getting her kicked out of school.
I read it once more, jaw tight.
Then I decided to scroll back a couple of weeks and take a look at their conversation history.
Ethan
You can’t just hang up on me when I’m trying to help you.
Then another.
Ethan
I didn’t mean to sound harsh last night. You just push me sometimes. You know how that makes me.
You push me sometimes.
The words scraped under my skin like barbed wire.
As I scrolled forward again, my pulse climbed higher with each message. The tone shifted, becoming pushy and controlling. More threats about their project. Constant demands that they meet in person.
Something went cold inside me when I reached the bevy of texts from today. The first one was about an hour ago.
