Page 170 of When We Fall: Part Two
“What if she’s hurt?—”
“Then we fucked up again. I don’t know what you want from me. I-I don’t know where she is. I don’t even know where to begin to look for her.”
“Matteo,” I said. “Maybe she went to him again. Kurt. Maybe she went to her parents.”
He sighed. “She promised. I don’t believe for one second she went to Matteo. She wouldn’t go to her dad. Kurt… I also doubt. He’s too busy setting our warehouses on fire.”
I grunted. He was probably right on that account.
“Rosalie is likely holed up in a hotel. That’s where I see her. Safe. Taking a breather. Maybe one of her bubble baths,” he murmured.
“Promise?” I reached for his hand. He took my hand in his and squeezed it.
“Yeah, brother. I promise. We’ll look some more. I’ll keep the guys out scouting, too. We won’t just let her be here alone. At least if the guys are out, we have ears to the ground. Sound good?”
I nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
He released my hand and put the Escalade into drive, and we continued on, searching the city for what I hoped was still our girl.
FIFTY-TWO
ROSALIE
“Where are we?” I asked, my head feeling heavy and my tongue fuzzy. The alcohol was really settling in on me now.
“My place,” Sylar said, helping me out of the car in a parking garage.
I let him guide me to an elevator and watched as he inserted a key. The elevator brought us to the top, and he placed his hand on the small of my back before leading me into a hallway with only one door.
“What is this?” I mumbled.
“I told you. It’s my place.” He tapped a card on a pad, and the door unlocked. He pushed it open, bringing me inside to a lavish apartment.
“This is yours?” I asked, my vision blurry as I took in the modern decor. An open floor plan. Black leather furniture. Granite counters. Stairs that led upward to a dark hallway. Windows lined one side of the room, allowing you to look out at the city.
“Yes. I don’t get to spend as much time here as I’d like, but that’s fine. It’s a nice place to hang my hat after a night on the town.”
I followed him to the couch and sat. I was so drunk. I’d been terrified on the ride here, but now I was numb inside and filled with fuzz. At least that’s how it felt.
“Want a drink?” he asked.
“I think I drank too much already.”
“Nah. One more.” He got up and went to a bar in the room. I watched him pour each of us a drink, then bring it back and hand me mine.
I took it and sipped, wincing at the burn.
“Bourbon,” he said, smirking at me.
I watched him down his in one go before getting up and grabbing the bottle to bring it back. He refilled his glass and drank again.
“You live alone?” I asked, trying not to sway.
“Usually.”
“What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “Family stays sometimes. Not often, but you know how that is.”
