Page 143 of Never Tell Secrets
“What have you done?” Was that my voice? How did I sound so calm?
“I’ve been having you watched.” He pressed another button and the screens switched to my empty apartment. “The cameras give me a constant live feed of you.”
This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t…but it was.
The screens switched back to the slideshow and my face plastered on every screen refused to let me believe otherwise.
“How long?” My voice cracked as the room began to spin. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t fucking breathe.
“Since we separated?—”
“No.” My world was crashing down on me. All this time. All this fucking time. I could feel a tsunami bubbling up inside of me, a tidal wave of lava-like rage that threatened to end us both.
“I had Elliot set up a security team to watch you and follow you?—”
“No.”
“I didn’t intend for it to go on like this but I missed you so much, it?—”
“NO!” I screamed. Screaming felt good. My head fell into my hands. I couldn’t think, couldn’t process this.
My skin crawled, my stomach turned over. I felt nauseous. I felt Alfie scrutinise every inch of me, diagnosing my reaction, figuring out how to fix this. There was no fixing this.
The screens surrounded me, showing me my own face again and again and again. I felt like I was trapped in a carousel of my own blissful ignorance.
My legs gave out and I slumped onto the bed, the bed where we’d almost…
I doubled over, feeling bile rise in my throat. I stared at the floor with unseeing eyes. I felt numb, my mind racing yet empty. All I could see was the steady drip of red onto white tile.
“You’re hurt.” My voice wasn’t my own, my tongue felt like a ghost in my mouth. Alfie lifted his hand to look at it but I couldn’t follow, couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to see his face. It was as if my vision cut him off at the chest, sparing me the agony of seeing his eyes. “You should wash it off in the bathroom sink…and stay in there while I dress.”
I was unnerved at how calm I sounded, I wondered if he was calm too. His chest didn’t heave like mine, it was still, deceptively still. Everything about this man was deceptive.
He paused for what felt like an eternity before he finally retreated to the en suite. He pushed the door behind him butdidn’t click it shut. The screens went blank a moment later and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Carefully, as if I might break, I dressed. Returning clothes to my skin felt like a ritual reclaiming of my own body. A body he’d stolen.
How much had he watched me? During my most intimate moments? I imagined him watching me bathing, dressing. How many members of his security team had seen me go to the bathroom?
The now blank screens stared at me like two way mirrors, invisible eyes watching me try not to crumble.
Still without a plan, my gaze landed on the small pool of blood. On unsteady legs I went to the intercom and pressed the button. Ada’s soft tone came through the line, along with the clinking of cutlery and Elliot in the background asking if he could have seconds.
“Ada, do you have a first aid kit? Alfie has cut his hand.”
“Oh! Yes of course, I’ll be right up.” There was a soft click as she hung up.
“Lo, are you dressed?” Alfie came in, not waiting for a response, a hand towel wrapped around his injury. I felt his eyes on me but I didn’t meet them. I kept my back to the wall, feeling safer that way.
I wanted to leave, I shouldleave, but my feet stayed glued to the floor for one simple reason. He was hurt. Despite everything, I couldn't leave until I knew he was taken care of.
The silence stretched between us, a familiar chasm that I thought we’d banished forever. How stupid I was for thinking we were different now.
“We should call Priya.” His voice was too steady, too soothing, as if he was approaching a wounded animal.
I almost burst out laughing. Not even Priya and her magical powers could fix this. What was it she’d said to Alfie?
‘If you find yourself in danger of compromising her again, cut off contact immediately.’
