Page 90 of Twisted Violet
He pulls back instantly, eyes wide with guilt.
“She’s panicking,” I whisper. “It’s a trauma response. This isn’t just a scare.”
Dallas sits back on his heels, helpless, like the breath’s been punched out of him. “I didn’t know. I didn’t-”
“It’s not your fault,” I cut in, sharper than I mean to. “She has no control over her reactions right now.”
Violet lets out a sound. It’s small, broken, almost a sob, but it dies in her throat before it fully escapes her.
I can’t take it anymore.
I move in slowly, sinking onto the floor beside her,not touching, just near enough that she can feel me if she needs to.
“I’m right here,” I whisper. “We all are. He doesn’t get to have you. Not here. Not anymore.”
Her lips part like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
Dallas drops his head into his hands.
Rome walks back into the room, his expression cold and controlled, but I see the cracks behind his eyes.
“Bobby’s contacting the flower company that sent them,” he says. “I told him to cross-reference every name and face from the delivery log today.”
“Good,” I bite out.
“We should sweep the security feeds too.” Dallas says, swallowing. “Just in case he’s lingering around.”
“I’m on it,” Rome says.
Violet curls tighter into herself, her cheek pressed to the seat of the couch, arms wrapped around her knees. She’s silent. But her breathing hasn’t evened out.
I glance at the kitchen island. The roses are still there.
Red.
Blooming.
Fucking mocking all of us.
“Let’s get these the hell out of here.” I say, standing abruptly.
“No,” Dallas says, looking up. “We should bag them. If they were brought in by him, there could be fingerprints.”
He’s right.
I grab a pair of gloves from the utility drawer and carefully gather the bouquet, not caring if I crush a few petals. I stuff them into a trash bag, tie it, andtoss it on the balcony.
When I walk back in, Dallas is still sitting next to her, and Rome’s on the phone again, pacing.
Violet hasn’t moved, but her eyes are open.
A hollow ache opens in my chest. I’ve seen that look before, and I know how it ends if someone doesn’t step in.
“She needs Stevie,” I say, looking to Rome.
He stops pacing and nods once. “I’ll call her.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Dallas says, voice rough.
