Page 23 of Wild Card
Whatever this was—whatever we were—it’s gone.
And as David steps between us, trying to calm things down, all I can think is that the man I trusted most just became a stranger.
Then the sound of metal clicking breaks the air.
For a heartbeat I don’t understand what it is—then I see the glint of steel in David’s hands.
“Wait,” I say, stepping back, “what are you doing?”
His expression is pained, professional. “Ms.?Taylor, I’m sorry. Mr. Dane says there’s a recording. Until we clear this up?—”
He reaches for my wrists. I go still. My skin goes cold where his hands touch. This can’t be real. It can’t.
“Presley,” I manage, voice trembling. “Tell him. Tell him this isn’t true.”
But Presley just stands there, looking at me with that same unreadable calm I once mistook for strength.
“I have her confession on tape,” he says evenly to David. “We’ll go to the Jade?Petal to retrieve it. You’ll hear it yourself.”
My heart lurches. “You’re lying,” I whisper, then louder, “You’re lying! You’re a liar and a cheat! You used me!”
My words echo through the station; people glance up from their desks.
Presley doesn’t flinch. “Let’s go, Dave.”
He turns and walks out, David leads me to a holding cell, and locks the door.David hesitates at the doorway, then glances back. “We’ll sort this out, Ms.?Taylor. Just sit tight.” The sound of his footsteps fades down the corridor.
I sink into the metal chair in the corner of the small holding room, the air sharp with disinfectant and old dust. Everything feels distant—the hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled voices beyond the wall.
I stare at my hands resting on the table and try to breathe.
I told him I trusted him. I said it with my whole heart.
And now the man I trusted most just walked away, leaving me alone with nothing but the echo of his voice saying he had proof.
I don’t cry. I’ve already done that. Now there’s just the hollow ache that follows when you’ve run out of tears. I keep replaying everything in my head: the drive here, the warmth of his hand in mine, the way he looked at me when he asked if I trusted him.
I said yes. With my whole heart. And now that same heart feels like it’s breaking in slow motion. I don’t understand any of it. How could I have misread him so badly? Presley was supposed to be my partner in this—sharp, clever, impossible Presley who made me laugh when things were falling apart. The one person I thought saw me as more than a rival.
But it was all an act. Every moment, every word, every look across the table—just another move in whatever game he’s been playing. I wrap my arms around myself and press my forehead against the cool metal tabletop. My chest tightens.
How could I be so stupid?
I should have known better. People in this city don’t fall for each other; they use each other. Trust is just another kind of gamble, and I bet everything on the wrong man.
Footsteps pass by the cell door. A voice murmurs, distant, uninterested. I don’t lift my head.
I just sit there in the dim light, trying to breathe past the hurt, trying to figure out how to rebuild from something that feels like it’s already burned to ash. Somewhere deep down, though, under all the anger and disbelief, a small part of me refuses to let go.
CHAPTER
NINE
PRESLEY
The momentI walk through the front doors of the Citadel with Dave at my side, I feel the shift.
The energy in this place is different tonight. Off. Like someone’s trying to pretend everything’s fine while the floor beneath them is already crumbling. Dave says nothing, just follows my lead as I cut through the lobby, badge in hand, flashing it to the night desk like I belong here—which, technically, I don’t. But it doesn’t matter. Not tonight.
