Page 59

CHAPTER 59

2AM CATWALK

MARGAUX

T he door’s beep jerks me awake. For a moment, I think I’m dreaming. Maybe Timmy is just fumbling his way back in from one of his late-night escapades. But when I see what’s happening, my body goes cold, adrenaline surging through my veins.

He’s got Sabre—my sweet, loyal cat, my family. He’s put him in his harness and leash. Sabre’s wide, confused eyes lock with mine, silently pleading. What the hell is going on?

“Oh my gosh, Timmy! What are you doing? Do not take him outside!” I plead, my voice shaking.

Timmy smirks, a twisted grin that makes my stomach churn. Without a word, he starts walking Sabre toward the door.

“No!” I bolt out of bed, the fastest I ever have in my life, my heart racing. “Timmy, stop ! It’s 2AM ! He can’t go outside in the dark!”

I’m panicking now, my voice high and frantic.

Sabre glances back at me, his movements tentative, unsure of what to do.

His trust in me—and maybe even in Timmy—is palpable, but his body language screams confusion and fear.

Timmy doesn’t stop. He’s already out the door, tugging Sabre along with him.

“Timmy, please! Don’t do this!” I cry, rushing after him. I grab at Timmy’s hand, gripping the leash tightly. “Give him to me!”

There is no way my drunk and goodness-knows-what-else fiancé is taking my teenage cat on a walk at 2AM over to the tents where people are doing and selling drugs.

There’s no way he’s taking him outside, period .

We’ve had this conversation before, and he’s agreed that he’ll never take Sabre outside in the dark. But when I said that, I meant right after the sun goes down. Never in my wildest nightmares did I dream he’d try to take him out at this hour.

I run to the door. “Please don’t do this! It’s 2AM! You know he can't go outside in the dark.”

Timmy yanks Sabre further out the door.

“Relax,” he says, his tone infuriatingly casual. “It’s just a walk.”

“No, it’s not ‘just a walk’!” My voice cracks, a sob rising in my throat. “It’s the middle of the night! You can’t take him out there— it’s not safe for him!”

I panic.

I grab at Timmy’s hand which is tightly secured around Sabre’s leash, and I pull on it, attempting to yank the leash away from him.

Sabre lets out a small, distressed meow, caught in the middle of this chaotic tug-of-war.

My rage boils over.

“Let him go!” I shout, bending Timmy’s fingers back, forcing him to release the leash.

“Ow! My fingers!” he yells, recoiling as if I’ve burned him. “You bent them on purpose!”

Suddenly, he shoves me. Hard.

I hit the cold tile floor with a jarring thud, pain shooting through my hip and neck. I curl into myself instinctively, clutching Sabre’s leash close to my chest.

“What is wrong with you?” I gasp, my voice trembling.

Timmy’s face contorts into an expression of mock hurt. “You’re abusive!” he snaps, pointing at me like a prosecutor delivering a damning verdict. “You hurt me! You’re always hurting me!”

My head spins. The audacity, the gaslighting—it’s overwhelming.

“I was getting Sabre away from you because you were trying to take him outside in the middle of the night!”

He glares at me. “No. You were trying to hurt me. You hurt my fingers on purpose! I wasn’t even doing anything wrong. You’re so abusive.”

I know that look on his face. It’s the one he gets when he’s planning something vindictive, something cruel.

Something very bad for me .

I can’t take the risk. Not for me, and certainly not for Sabre.

I grab my phone and dial 911.

By the time the cops arrive, Timmy is long gone, having predictably retreated to the encampment across the way.

“You have an accent,” one officer says. “What do you do for work?”

“Um… I write books,” I reply.

“You should narrate your own audiobooks,” he says. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d like to listen to you talk.”

Another officer glances at me holding my neck, his expression a mixture of pity and exasperation. “Put some ice on it. That should help.”

“We’ll go have a word with him if we can find him,” a third officer says. “It sounds like he could benefit from substance abuse counseling, by the way. But for now, stay inside. Rest. We’ll tell him not to come back until morning.”

Morning comes, and I can barely move. Every twist of my neck sends a sharp, shooting pain down my shoulder. My body feels like it’s been through a warzone, and for a moment I think I might actually be paralyzed.

Timmy strolls back in, smug as ever. He sees me clutching my neck and raises an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t have peeled my hands off the leash,” he says matter-of-factly. “The cop told me that next time you do something like that, he’s going to lock you up.”

My jaw drops. “Are you serious? ”

“You assaulted me,” he says, his voice dripping with faux innocence. “That’s what the cop said.”

“What are you even talking about? Why would there be a next time? You shouldn’t have been taking Sabre out in the middle of the night to begin with!” My voice wavers, but I push forward. “You know how dangerous it is out there, and here you are taking my teenage cat out for a walk at two o’clock in the morning to your friends in the meth tents. You could’ve gotten him killed !”

“Oh, relax,” he scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “I wasn’t going to take him all the way over there. Just right outside our front door for a little walk.”

“That makes no sense, Timmy!” I yell, my voice cracking. “Pets aren’t allowed to be out there, even on a leash. You know that. We’ve already had complaints from the building about him being outside during the day, and now you think it’s okay to take him out in the middle of the night? I’ve told you I don’t want him outside in the dark.”

He shrugs, his smirk infuriatingly fixed in place. “Well, you can’t touch me if I do.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. “What am I supposed to do, then? Just watch you take him? Endanger him?”

“Basically,” he says, crossing his arms.

I feel sick. My stomach churns at the thought of Sabre out there—vulnerable, confused, and completely at Timmy’s mercy. What kind of person uses an innocent animal to manipulate someone? To hurt someone?

The smirk on Timmy’s face is all the confirmation I need—this wasn’t about Sabre.

This was about power.

About control.

About breaking me.

I get the feeling a lot of the people over at that beach park don’t have much respect for human life—after all, someone was murdered there right before we moved and there’s been more trouble since—so they’re sure as hell not going to give a shit about a cat.

And other things could go wrong, too. Sabre could simply slip out of his harness. There are dogs around. There are definitely people doing weird things. A busy street.

Just no .

I scoop Sabre into my arms, holding him close as he nuzzles against my chest. His trust in me is unwavering, but I feel like I’ve failed him.

Timmy’s cruelty knows no bounds, and now, it’s not just me who’s in danger—it’s Sabre, too.

And now I’m back to feeling scared for my cat.

And for myself.