Page 77 of Stolen Voices

Eli chuckles as he stands up and grabs the handles of the wheelchair. “I’m not being cocky. Just stating facts.”

Behind the shades, I roll my eyes at his overconfident response as he pushes me out of the room towards the elevator. No one notices us as we leave the hospital or as Eli lifts me into the passenger seat of his car.

He climbs in and turns on the engine. “Where to?”

“Malibu,” I whisper just loud enough for him to hear.

Eli hums as he shifts the car into drive and pulls away from the hospital’s secret entrance.

Part one of my confession is coming right up.

nineteen

Eli

Callie’sheadrestsonmy shoulder, her hand on the crease of my elbow, as she sleeps beside me. Even though she fought it, I could tell she was exhausted.

It’s been a long twenty-four hours, and hopping on a private plane to fly to a small town outside of Portland wasn’t on her list of things to do after her accident.

Accident.If you can call it that.

I’m honestly surprised she didn’t make a fuss about leaving LA. I almost flipped when she brought up Malibu. She doesn’t fully comprehend that her safety is at stake, but the look on her face told me it was important. As much as I want to keep Callie safe, I also need all the information.

I’m not sure what I expected to find in Malibu, but it sure as fuck wasn’t her mother living at a mental health home. I have a million questions and scenarios running through my mind. Instead of barraging her with them, I’ve stayed quiet, telling her we’d discuss everything later.

When I told her we have a lot of shit to talk about, it wasn’t even the half of it.

After Callie’s tests came back clear, I made Taylor promise to stay with her so I could slip out. Leaving her at the hospital was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, but I needed answers.

I made a few calls on my way to pick up Boone, before heading to Ricochet Lounge. The police had the building surrounded and were still interviewing everyone. One of my contacts at the PD helped me get into the building.

One look, and Boone confirmed my worst fear. Sabotage. I should have known from the start. The closet, the fall, the fucking cupcake… It all made sense. Someone wants Callie dead.

As soon as I saw the shredded cables, I knew I needed to get her out of town to keep her safe until I figured out who the fuck wants her dead.

A wave of nausea churns my stomach, bile rising in my throat.

Dead.Why on earth would someone want Callie dead?

Callie makes a cute little snort in her sleep, and I can’t stop myself from resting my temple on the crown of her head. Breathing in the sweet floral scent that still lingers in her hair after spending the night in the hospital, I let the heat from the top of her head seep in and calm me.

Callie could have died yesterday, and I could have lost her before I even had her.

That knowledge has changed everything I thought I wanted.

I press harder into the top of her head, relishing her presence beside me.

She’s here and safe, I repeat.

The sound of her blood-curdling scream will haunt me for the rest of my life. It all happened so fast. One minute, I was admiring her talent and beauty as she spun in the air and practiced her routine. She looked so fucking gorgeous and strong. The next minute, a loud screech and clanking cut through the music and the first cable snapped. Abject terror struck her features as she flailed above the ground.

I was on the stage in a flash, encouraging her to calm down and steady her movement while simultaneously screaming for the dancers and backstage crew to help me get the floor mats. Everyone was rushing around in panic. So, when the second cable snapped and Callie’s body started whipping around like a rag doll, I knew there was no time for the cushions; she was going to fall.

Instinct had me running under her, waiting to catch her body before she hit the ground. I didn’t care if saving her meant hurting myself. All I knew was I had to get to her. I couldn’t let her get hurt or worse.

Callie landed in my arms with a thud. The impact was too much for me to absorb, and I fell to my knees, allowing her backside to hit the floor and her head to whip back. She passed out from the impact, and when she came to, she asked if she was dead. I wanted to fucking scream as a torrent of emotions bubbled to the surface: anger, fear, regret, longing.

In that moment, when I looked down and saw her safe in my arms, every shred of doubt I had about Callie, about us, was stripped away.