Page 44 of Diverge

Two people walk out, the man that Joe described, average build, dark hair, but there’s a woman with him.FUCK!I know that body, those legs.

SHIT!

It’s Billie. What the fuck? Why is she here so fucking late? My heart hammers in my chest as I weigh my options, quickly realising I don’t have any. I have to go through with this. Joe will fucking hunt me down and kill me if I don’t. Clenching my jaw, I walk up to them, my mouth going dry. Billie’s expression softens when she sees me.

I’m so sorry.

The guy next to her opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, I punch him straight in the throat, and Billie’s screams echo through the empty streets, her eyes plunging out of her head like she’s not believing what she is seeing. The guy falls to the ground like a sack of flour, spluttering and coughing. I kick him in the stomach twice.

“What the fuck are you doing?! STOP!” she yells as she claws at me to stop.

Shrugging her off, I continue. Pulling him up by his hair, I throw him against the wall of the building.

“Pay up, or they’ll never stop.” My voice is calm, almost too fucking calm for what’s unfolding right now. I knee him in the stomach, blood flying from his mouth, and he drops to his knees. Billie rushes to his side and looks up at me. Her expression cuts me deeper than a fucking knife, and I know this is it. It’s done. I’ve lost her for good. There’s no coming back from this. I turn and walk away without a single word, regret pooling in my stomach like bile, slowly rising to the surface.

Chapter Fourteen

Billie

Earlier that day

“Today we launch newsoftware for our clients...” Fiona’s voice fades into the distance as my thoughts consume me.

There are about fifty people in this meeting room, and every single person looks like they hate their job except for Fiona. I feel like she fucking lives for this. Anytime I send her an email after hours, I receive a reply almost instantaneously. It’s messed up how dedicated to her work she is. I mean, there’s dedication, then there’s completeworkaholic-ness. The number of hours she puts into her job when you sit back and work it out against her pay, it most likely doesn’t work out in her favour.

Who am I to judge? I hate my fucking job. I would quit tomorrow, but the fear of the unknown and the fear of losing a stable income paralyses me.

I sigh when I check the time. It’s only half past ten in the morning. Should I message Nate? Should I call him? I messaged him last night to say I hope Noah’s game goes well, but I never received a response. An empty feeling settles in my chest. What if I never should have gotten out of his car or asked him to take me home? I should have just worked it out with him that night instead of letting my pride get the better of me.

I miss him.

I’ve been working with Finn a lot this week, trying to crunch through the finer details, and it’s been terribly awkward between us. We still haven’t spoken about what happened at Grace’s party, and it’s eating at me. Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I message Finn.

ME

FINN

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