Page 35 of Twisted Violet
UnknownNumber.
1 New Message.
I wipe my hand on a dishtowel and open the text.
My fingers hesitate over the screen and my chest tightens.
Not all at once, slowly, like there’s something carefully coiling around my ribs.
I swallow hard and set the phone back down.
It’s probably just the wrong number.
I shake my head, pick up the knife, and start dicing again.
Another buzz. Another notification.
Perfect girl.
There was only one man that ever called me that.
It’s the same man who bought me. Who caged me. Who broke me, over and over again, just because he could.
This has to be some kind of sick joke.
The knife slips.
“Shit -”
Pain lances through my thumb. The blade clatters to the floor, and blood spills fast.
I stagger back from the counter, grabbing the closest towel. My breath punches out in short, shallow gasps.
Ollie whines, scrambling to his feet. He presses his head against my leg and licks my ankle like he knows something’s wrong.
I crouch and grip the towel tighter. “I’m fine,” I whisper.
But I’m not,I can’t breathe.
My knees buckle, and I grip the edge of the counter to stay upright.
God,I need to calm down.
Just because he has my number doesn’t mean he knows where I am. He could’ve gotten it anywhere. A database. A leak. He’s in my phone, but that doesn’t mean he’s here.
This place is hidden. The locks are reinforced. The windows are tinted. I’m safe.Aren’t I?
I close my eyes, trying to steady myself, trying to believe the lie.
The elevator dings and I snap my head up, heart skidding in my chest.
“V?”
Dallas’ voice hits me like a floodlight in a dark tunnel.
I don’t answer.I can’t.I’m barely holding it together as it is.
He rounds the corner and freezes mid-step. His eyes flick from my face to the towel wrapped around my hand, then to the floor where the knife lies in a puddle of blood, and something sharp flickers across his face.
