Page 178 of The Contract

Hell, everyone will.

When a companion calls for an extraction, it sets off alarms across the entire company. It’s rare—almost unheard of—but when it happens, the protocol is ironclad.

The moment that code is called in, the entire Black Ledger network mobilizes.

The only priority? Get the companion out.

Eve will know I’m safe now, that I’ll be out soon. But it doesn’t stop the unease curling in my stomach.

I’ve likely only got minutes until The Ledger security gets here, so I hastily throw a few key items in my carry bag. It’s already half-packed with clothes I didn’t wear at the Hamptons, and I don’t waste time emptying it.

I toss my iPad on top and shove my purse inside.

Zipping it up, I set it near the elevator door.

My hands are shaking, and my mouth is like the desert.

A strand of thoughts, one after the other, races through my mind.

Once I’m back at The Ledger, we’ll fix this.

Someone can help me with Adrian, and I can explain everything to Damien.

He’ll understand.

He loves me. I know he does.

My shaking legs carry me to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. My half-eaten cheesecake still takes up space on one of the shelves.

The memory of Damien, the piano, eating that cheesecake—it makes my chest tighten.

Why the fuck didn’t I just come clean about Adrian right away?

Unscrewing the cap, I gulp a third of the water, wincing when my lip burns like it’s been split open again.

Touching two fingers to my mouth, I pull away, seeing blood again.

That fucking asshole. I hope Lucian beats his ass to a pulp when he hears Adrian assaulted me.

I blot my lip a few times, clearing the small leak of blood until I see no more, then place the cool water bottle against my hot, swelling lip.

The elevator doors slide open, and before I can even process the sound, Damien storms through them like a force of nature. His fury crackles in the air, thick and suffocating, like the atmosphere before a lightning strike.

My stomach drops.

“Dam—” I barely have time to set the water bottle down before his voice slams into me, sharp and unforgiving.

"Where the fuck is he?"

I flinch. What?

"Damien—"

"Is he still here?" His voice is a growl, his steps heavy as he stalks toward me, his eyes like burning steel. "Did you think I wouldn’t fucking find out? That I wouldn’t put it all together?"

I stumble back, my pulse hammering in my ears. This isn’t happening.

His chest is rising and falling fast, hands flexing at his sides, like he’s trying to restrain himself, like he’s barely keeping himself from putting his fist through the nearest wall.

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