Oliver was quiet for a beat too long.
“Oliver.”
A sigh. “Nothing obvious. No movement detected, but…”
My stomach twisted. “But?”
“Your cameras glitched. For exactly two minutes and thirty-eight seconds.”
I stared out the window as the city blurred past, my grip tightening on my phone. Two minutes and thirty-eight seconds. “Tell me no one is inside or outside of my home.”
Oliver’s typing paused. “There is no one there, anymore.”
I could handle that. “Tell Cleo to be on standby. I’m armed, and I can handle myself. Keep watch until the morning. Call me if anything is off.”
“I don’t like this,” Oliver warned.
“Me either, but I have a feeling I know who it is.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Dimitri
I swung hard,my knuckles cracking against the leather bag, the force rattling up my arms.
I should have been celebrating. I should have been drinking with the people who now owed me their loyalty, basking in the power I had just secured. Instead, I was here. Alone. Beating the shit out of a bag because I couldn’t get her out of my head.
Scarlett Montrose.
The thief. The con artist. The woman who had stolen more than just my ring—she’d stolen my goddamn peace of mind. My breath heaved as I stepped back, rolling my shoulders. My muscles burned, but it wasn’t enough.
I told myself I hated her. That I almost did. That the fury boiling in my veins had nothing to do with how fucking perfect she looked in that dress tonight. That I wasn’t imagining what she had let him do to her.
Gavin Crenshaw.
The idiot.
Did he even realize what she was? Did he have any idea the game she was playing?
I exhaled sharply, flexing my fingers before shaking them out. The split in my knuckle was minor, but I’d felt the sting.Good. I welcomed it. Pain was easier to deal with than whatever the fuck was happening in my chest.
My phone buzzed in my gym bag, but I didn’t need to check it to know who it was.
Benson.
The security breach had worked. She was back home.
Benson could have gotten me through her security without notifying her. But I wanted her to know. I wanted her to be afraid and rush home. There was nothing to be afraid of, not yet, but it forced her out of his bed— that was all I cared about.
I grabbed my phone from the gym bag, my fingers tightening around it before flipping it over.
Benson
She’s home. Changed the codes. Locked down tight.
I huffed out a humorless laugh, rolling my sore wrist. Of course, she did. Instead of running, she only made her walls higher and made it harder for people to get to her. Who was this woman?
I grabbed my towel and slung it over my shoulder, walking toward the locker room. The gym was still empty—just the way I liked it. I needed space to think. I grabbed my suit from one of the lockers and pulled my hoodie free from my gym bag.