My fist clenches. “Where are you?” I grunt out, tuning into the background noise on the other end of the line. “You better not fucking touch her.”
Quinton snorts. “Your threats mean nothing to me,Damon. Do you think I’m afraid of you?You? Please. You’re like a sheep in wolf’s clothing. Bare your teeth all you want, my friend, but we both know you’re spineless on the inside.” He pauses, and my pulse quickens with devastation. “I must say, though, I do find your predicament to be rather amusing. It’s almost as if history is repeating itself.” He chuckles, tone lower and conniving as he adds, “Except this time, I’m not the one cursing God. You are.”
“Take off in thirty minutes, Dr. Marquis,” a barely audible voice crackles through from the receiver.
Take off? He’s at the airfield.
Motherfucker.
“Where are you taking her?!” Autopilot kicks in as I rush to the elevator, repeatedly hitting the button to the parking lot. “Quinton!” He doesn’t respond but the line stays active. He’s mocking me. Tormenting me. “Let me talk to her,” I plead, jumping into my car. I put Quinton on Bluetooth as I pull out of the parking lot. All sense of manufactured strength dissipates as the word leaves my lips. “Please.”
“Please?” Quinton expels an incredulous laugh. “Do you honestly think simply because you have finally learned proper social decorum, I’ll pass her the phone? As if one tiny word will change anything?” I stay silent,hating myself. Hating him more. “Has the thought ever crossed your impudent little mind that she does not wish to speak to you?”
“What did you say to her?” I seethe, speeding down the side streets toward Quinton’s private airfield. “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing,” Quinton sighs. “See? This is your problem, Cavanaugh. It appears that you underestimate just how curious our little Emery truly is. It’s almost insulting, if you think about it. Emery’s no fool, Cavanaugh. She’s gorgeous and intelligent and?—”
“Shut up!” Those words don’t belong in his mouth. “Don’t act like you know her better than me. She’s my fucking fiancée!” Quinton’s slow breath flows into my ear, and I pick up his sense of shock. “What? She didn’t tell you?”
“Fiancée, huh?” His tone drips with venom. “Well, like I said. It reallyishistory repeating itself.” His voice falls to a menacing whisper. “If I were a proper gentleman and you weren’t a proper snake, perhaps this supposed status of your relationship would deter me, but we both know how little respect titles like that carry, don’t we?”
“This has nothing to do with Alison,” I grunt. “I loved her, and you—” I slam on the steering wheel. “Why are you doing this? For revenge? A way to get back at me? Alison chose me, Quinton. Me. When you walked in on us, did she look unhappy? Did she look upset? No. She was fucking euphoric. And you know why? Because she pickedme. I didn’t do shit to you. I just took back what was rightfully mine.”
“And Emery chose me.”
I gasp, his words like a physical blow to my gut. "You’re lying," I say, my voice tight with frustration. "She wouldn’t do that to me. She wouldn’t?—"
Quinton chuckles. "She wouldn’t? And why is that? What makes you immune to betrayal and heartbreak? Do you honestly consider yourself the better man? An honest man? Given yourhistory?”
My lip twitches. “You told her.”
“I didn’t have to,” he reveals. “She’s much more perceptive than you give her credit for. Honestly, Cavanaugh, it’s as if you don’t even know her at all. But don’t worry, old friend, I’ll study her for the both of us.” I can feel his smirk. “Every inch of her.” My heart clenches at the veiled threat in his words. “Every freckle.”Fucker. “Every mole.”I’m going to fucking kill him. “Every single thing about her until I'm an expert, and you’re just…a distant error in judgment.”
And he hangs up.
I drive like a madman until the airfield is in sight, swallowing the bile rising in my throat and slamming the gas pedal. Quinton’s private jet sits on the runway, its engines humming. In the distance, Emery and Quinton stroll toward the air stair.
No. Don’t get on! Don’t!
I screech to a halt near the entrance, and before the gate attendant can react, I jump out of the car and run toward the gate. Quinton's voice still rings in my ear, taunting and mocking, but I block it out.
"Emery!" I shout, coiling my fingers around the bars. "Emery!” I keep screaming her name, praying thatshe hears me. And then, just as she ascends to the final step, she turns her head toward me. “Emery! Don’t! Please! I can explain! Let me explain!”
She opens her mouth to say something, but the words never come. Our eyes remain locked in a painful, wordless exchange. I can feel the conflict in her stare, the desperation to understand, to believe me, to forgive me.
But desperation never wins.
Quinton grins at me, placing a possessive hand on the small of Emery's back. He whispers something in her ear. The sight sends a surge of fury through me, and adrenaline pumps through my veins.
Desperation doesn’t win. Fear does.
And it pulls her inside the jet.
“Quinton!” I yell. “Don’t.” I snap my head at the gate attendant sitting in the booth. "Open the fucking gates!" He refuses, shaking his head. “Open the fucking gates!” He ignores me. “Fuck it.”
Without a second thought, I jump back into my car and back up several yards as the jet taxis. I press the gas pedal, breaking through the gates as I accelerate down the tarmac. But no matter how fast I drive, I can't catch it. I can’t stop it. I can’t do anything.
As the jet lifts into the sky, leaving me behind in a cloud of dust and defeat, the adrenaline pumping through my veins fades away. I watch Emery disappear into the distance, my heart shattering into fragments of my own destruction.
Voices echo around me, muffled and incoherent as I get out of the car and stare into the gray sky. It won’tbe gray for long. I’ll burn the fucking clouds. Incinerate the fucking heavens. Torch the entire goddamn earth if that’s what it takes to get her back.
There will be no more gray.
Only red.
To be continued…
