Page 38 of Smut Lovers

Chapter Eight

Zane

T he sound of the door clicking closed pulls me from sleep. I reach for Wren but only find the warm spot where she was, the sheets still slightly rumpled from where she had been lying. Something prickles in my chest, a gnawing sense of dread washing over me. I know she isn’t here.

My brows furrow in confusion as I catch a glimpse of my phone on the bed.

A notification vibrates as I pick it up, and my heart sinks as I see the message preview.

It’s from a contact I barely recognize anymore.

A name from my past that I thought I’d left behind.

But it’s not the message that makes my stomach twist; it’s the realization that Wren must have seen my phone before she left.

I swipe to unlock it, and my heart races as I scroll through the notifications.

There it is, the notification that will haunt me: a picture, an image meant for someone else, someone I thought I had moved on from.

The moment I see it, the blood drains from my face.

It’s a nude photo from Brenda, a woman I used to know, someone from a life I closed the door on.

I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding as I rush to the door. I throw it open, the hinges creaking in protest, and step into the hallway. “Wren!” I call out, my voice echoing in the quiet penthouse. But there’s no answer, only the sound of my own heartbeat thrumming in my ears.

“Fuck!” I yell, frustration boiling over as the walls begin closing around me. I can’t believe this is happening. Why didn’t she wake me up so we could discuss this? I could have shut down all doubts she was having if she’d taken a second to talk instead of bolting the first chance she got.

I run a hand through my hair, trying to gather my thoughts. My mind races back to last night—the laughter, the intimacy, the way she looked at me with those bright eyes full of trust.

With every passing second, my resolve hardens.

I won’t let her slip through my fingers.

I need to find her before she gets into something she can’t handle, something that could hurt her.

I pull out my phone again, my hands shaking as I dial her number.

Each ring feels like an eternity, and when it goes to voicemail, anger washes over me.

Oh, little songbird, when I find you, Daddy is going to tear that ass up for not trusting me.

To be continued…