Page 63 of Quake
“My wife had a very telling conversation with Caleb yesterday,” he went on. “It seems he doesn’t know a single thing about your past.”
My heart twisted. “You didn’t…”
“No, not yet, but I will,” he said, sneering. “Here are my terms, Meagan O’Connor. Leave my son amicably, or I will destroy you. Your name will be in the press, the truth of what you did public knowledge. You will never be able to find employment, no one will love you, and you will rot beside your sister. My son will not be associated with the likes of you. He is a champion and will return to the ring after you’re gone. That is his future. Yours can still be pleasant. All you have to do is leave Caleb, and never contact him again.”
“You’re sick,” I whispered.
He smirked, turning his attention forward. “I think that’s your specialty, Meagan.”
I couldn’t stay here. Every nerve ending in my body screamed at me to run, so that was what I did.
Wrenching open the door, I tumbled out of the car, almost falling to my knees. Righting myself, I fled, disappearing back into the building, my heart pounding. Finding the nearest public toilet in the foyer, I fell to my knees in the first stall and heaved, throwing up the contents of my stomach.
When I was done, I closed the stall door, thankful I was alone. Leaning against the wall, I placed my palm on my burning forehead, my fear almost overwhelming.
Everything I’d done… Everything… It had all been for nothing. I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t find redemption. I couldn’t find love. Why did I ever think I deserved better after what I’d done?
Vincent Carmichael had just stolen the last chance I had for a new life. He’d callously ripped apart my last shred of sanity, not only threatening me but my family as well. All over his desire to propel Caleb back into the ring. He was a man who was prepared to risk his son becoming paralyzed for money and power.
And I believed him.
Fumbling in my bag for a tissue, I wiped the corners of my mouth, then tossed it into the toilet and flushed.
I had to get up.
Pushing to my feet, I staggered out of the stall and hovered over the basin. Staring into the mirror, I dabbed at my eyes, attempting to fix my makeup.
A shadow flitted behind me, and I hesitated, focusing on the reflection. Melanie stood over my left shoulder, her blonde hair streaked with red. Blood covered her sun-kissed skin, her blue eyes iridescent against the stain. It had been a long time since I’d looked at myself and seen her.
What was I going to do now?
24
Caleb
Monday without Juliette was agony.
I’d become used to our ritual of training followed by blistering sex. It had been almost a week since I had her, and I was having withdrawals. Although, after Saturday’s? awkward dinner with my parents, I couldn’t blame her for wanting distance. ????
Dad’s behavior toward her had been unforgivable, and Mum…hers had been stranger still. If they were trying to reassure me they had my best interests at heart, they were failing miserably.
The entire ride home, Juliette had been withdrawn, and I couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. Something more than being treated like shit by my judgmental parents.
Wednesday, I was waiting in the gym when she finally turned up. She pushed into the studio, and I had to do a double take. When I saw she was still in her work clothes—a crisp blue shirt and a black knee-length skirt—my heart sank like a rock.
Walking toward me, her gaze was fixed on the floor, her shoulders tight with tension. It was like a ghost had walked through the door, these past months nothing more than a dream.
Immediately, I reached out to comfort her, to pull her into my arms and hold her close to my heart, but she jerked her head to the side. I stilled, my hand dropping away.
“Jules?” I asked, my forehead creasing.
“I… I can’t…” she muttered, looking every bit like the woman who’d first walked into Beat.
“What’s happened?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
She licked her lips before swallowing, her eyes fixed on my chest.
“Jules, tell me what’s going on,” I begged, starting to panic. “Has someone hurt you?”
