Page 89 of Twisted Violet

I don’t answer.

Because the words are stuck somewhere in the back of my throat, blocked by panic and disbelief and fear so loud it drowns out everything else.

Not here.

Not where I thought Iwas finally safe.

I press my back into the couch, curling into myself as the weight of it all crashes down.

He found me.

He fucking found me.

THIRTY-TWO

NIKO

The soundof her phone hitting the floor shouldn’t make my heart stop, but it does.

I hear it before I see it. That soft clatter of glass against wood, sharp enough to cut through the conversation like a blade. I turn just in time to see the color drain from her face. Eyes wide, chest rising like she’s drowning in open air.

“Violet?” Rome says her name first.

She doesn’t answer.

Her hands tremble, and she curls in on herself, like the weight of something invisible just crushed down on her.

Something’s wrong. It’s written all over her face.

I step closer and reach for the phone she dropped. The screen’s still on with a message opened.

My stomach turns to ice.

“Rome,” Isnap, tossing the phone at him. “Call security. Now.”

He’s already moving, fishing his phone from his pocket and heading toward the office.

Dallas is crouched next to Violet in seconds, hands out, voice soft but shaking. “It’s okay, Darlin’. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Ollie nuzzles her hand.

She doesn’t respond. Her breathing’s gone ragged. Her shoulders shake, like she’s trying to pull herself inward and disappear.

I step closer, crouch low in front of her, careful not to touch her.

“Vi,” I say, quiet and measured. Like my voice might anchor her if I find the right tone. “Can you look at me?”

She doesn’t.

She’s somewhere else. Somewhere far away, and I know exactly where.

I’ve seen that look before, in her eyes, in mine.

Dallas reaches for her hand.

She jerks away like he burned her.

Fuck.