Page 201 of His To Erase

I meant Frank. I meant everything I’ve done to get close enough to put that bastard in the ground. I meant the years I’ve wasted chasing ghosts through blood and shadows, only to find myself right back where I started.

But it didn’t matter what I meant. Not when she looked at me like I’d just spit in her face. Not when her expression went from fury to disbelief—then to something that felt like fucking betrayal.

I was out tracking down a lead—one who liked to talk big until his face met the pavement. It took too long to get anything useful out of him, and when he finally cracked, all he said was, “She gave him something that led him straight to you.”I was half-listening when she started talking to me, still hearing that line on repeat in my head.

I didn’t just piss her off. I lost her.

I’m sitting at my desk with my elbows planted and my jaw clenched so tight it aches. The blinds are half-drawn and sunlight slices through the dust in sharp, perfect lines. I know where she’s going, she said she had a showing at some place she was interested in.

So I let her go, even though I know I shouldn’t have.

I should’ve followed her the second she walked out the front door with murder in her eyes, but I didn’t. I was waiting for something I needed in my hands, before I made my next move. Something that could finally tie in the last piece of this whole fucked-up puzzle.

So I stayed.

And now—she’s fucking gone.

I lean back in my chair and pull up the feed on my monitor. The camera outside her apartment flickers to life. She came home, changed clothes, watered the plants like it meant something to her, then she stood at the window for almost ten minutes, just... thinking. Then she left again, walking out like it was any other day.

Then—nothing.

I know she went to the listing.

But after that, nothing. No texts. No calls. No location ping. Not even the usual breadcrumb trail she leaves behind when she’s pretending she’s fine.

Just silence. Something’s up. It’s too clean to be an accident. I checked the tracker again, and sure enough, it’s glitching. It’s the same lag I noticed when she left her apartment. I thought it was a bad signal. Now I’m not so sure.

I was already halfway to the door—boots on, gun holstered, and my keys in hand—when my phone buzzed.

Ani: I’ll talk to you when I can think straight.

Like that would ever be a fucking option.

She thinks she needs space? I’m the only one who’s kept her alive this long. If she’s not running, then why the fuck does it feel like I’m chasing her all over again? She doesn’t get to disappear behind her words like that and expect me to wait around. Not when I already know where this is headed.

She wants space? She’ll get about five more minutes of it.

Then I’m coming.

And God help anyone standing in my way.

I force myself to stay still and wait, to breathe through the instinct screaming at me to burn the world down and drag her back with my bare hands.

That’s why I sent Travis. Because if I chased her myself—I wouldn’t stop. There isn’t a line I wouldn’t cross. I’ve never lost a mark, never lost control, but this isn’t about vengeance anymore.

If Frank thinks he can put his hands on her—keep her—I open the drawer, fingers curling tight around the handle of the blade inside.Let him fucking try.

The cabinet slams shut louder than I mean, and Bern whines behind me. My phone’s been silent for hours and I’ve already circled the cabin three times trying not to punch through the goddamn walls.

I cross the room, picking up her empty mug like it might hold a clue or explain why every second since she left feels like a fuse burning straight down to detonation.

Either way, someone’s bleeding when I find her.

My phone buzzes.Finally.

Travis: Got eyes on her.

Travis: She’s with him.