Page 33 of Twisted Violet (Lovesick Villains #4)
THIRTY-TWO
NIKO
The sound of 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,” I snap, 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.
He pulls back instantly, eyes wide with guilt.
“She’s panicking,” I whisper. “It’s a trauma response. This isn’t just a scare.”
Dallas sits back on his heels, helpless, like the breath’s been punched out of him. “I didn’t know. I didn’t-”
“It’s not your fault,” I cut in, sharper than I mean to. “She has no control over her reactions right now.”
Violet lets out a sound. It’s small, broken, almost a sob, but it dies in her throat before it fully escapes her.
I can’t take it anymore.
I move in slowly, sinking onto the floor beside her, not touching, just near enough that she can feel me if she needs to.
“I’m right here,” I whisper. “We all are. He doesn’t get to have you. Not here. Not anymore.”
Her lips part like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
Dallas drops his head into his hands.
Rome walks back into the room, his expression cold and controlled, but I see the cracks behind his eyes.
“Bobby’s contacting the flower company that sent them,” he says. “I told him to cross-reference every name and face from the delivery log today.”
“Good,” I bite out.
“We should sweep the security feeds too.” Dallas says, swallowing. “Just in case he’s lingering around.”
“I’m on it,” Rome says.
Violet curls tighter into herself, her cheek pressed to the seat of the couch, arms wrapped around her knees. She’s silent. But her breathing hasn’t evened out.
I glance at the kitchen island. The roses are still there.
Red.
Blooming.
Fucking mocking all of us.
“Let’s get these the hell out of here.” I say, standing abruptly.
“No,” Dallas says, looking up. “We should bag them. If they were brought in by him, there could be fingerprints.”
He’s right.
I grab a pair of gloves from the utility drawer and carefully gather the bouquet, not caring if I crush a few petals. I stuff them into a trash bag, tie it, and toss it on the balcony.
When I walk back in, Dallas is still sitting next to her, and Rome’s on the phone again, pacing.
Violet hasn’t moved, but her eyes are open.
A hollow ache opens in my chest. I’ve seen that look before, and I know how it ends if someone doesn’t step in.
“She needs Stevie,” I say, looking to Rome.
He stops pacing and nods once. “I’ll call her.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Dallas says, voice rough.
Rome turns toward the door.
I crouch again beside her, slower this time.
Her eyes flick toward me, barely a glance, but it’s something.
“You’re safe,” I whisper, barely more than breath. “You’re safe.”
Her fingers twitch, and for the first time since the panic hit, she blinks like she’s coming back to herself.
I don’t say anything else.
I just stay there.
Close. Solid.
Because right now, she doesn’t need saving.
She just needs to know she’s not alone.