Page 74 of The Quiet After The Fall

There’s only breathing coming through the line. Mine or his, I’m not sure. I’ll fucking kill him if he goes near Sawyer. Him and every guy on his payroll.

“I don’t give warnings twice.”

The line goes dead before I can get another word in and I’m left holding my phone in a shaking hand, staring at the dark lake.

I call Sawyer immediately. It rings once then cuts me off. I try again with the same results. “Shit.”

I forgot that she has me blocked. I can’t track her. Can’t call her. I’m sure a text won’t go through either.

“Fuck it.” There’s no way I can just sit here and let Moretti get to her. Maybe he’s bluffing to get me in line. But even if there’s a slight chance that Sawyer’s in danger, I need to go to her, to keep her safe. This is all my fucking fault, after all.

Autopilot takes over—starting the engine, turning onto the highway, speeding toward Ashford. The paperwork slides on the passenger seat every time I take a curve too hard, but I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it. I need to see her car in that lot. I need to see her standing upright and breathing and pissed off at me for showing up unannounced late at night.

I get there in half the time, clipping the curb as I turn into the lot. It looks the same as always—light’s half out, dumpster full, someone’s cat perched in a lit window. Sawyer’s car is where it should be and I release a breath.

That doesn’t mean she’s safe, though. I park on the street, away from the lights, and sprint to the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reach her door. I knock before I’ve caught my breath, harder than necessary. I’m about to start pounding as she cracks it, the chain still locked. When she sees me, she opens it the rest of the way.

“Knox? What⁠—”

I don’t let her finish. I hurry inside, closing the door behind me. I’ve got her by the shoulders, checking her over like I’ll find something wrong if I look hard enough. But she’s fine. Thank fuck.

She’s wearing an old T-shirt and cotton shorts, hair still damp, looking at me like I’m nuts, but I hold onto her anyway.

“You’re freaking me out.” Whatever she sees in me has her staying still while I do what I need to.

“Lock the door. The chain too.”

“What the⁠—”

“Please,” I say. “Just do it.”

She reaches past me and flips each lock, eyes on me the whole time like she’s trying to read whatever’s wrong with my face. “Okay. It’s locked. Now tell me what’s going on before I call somebody.”

It all comes out of me. Every single thing I’ve kept from her. I pace the doorway, too anxious to sit, while she stands there listening.

I tell her about the folder in my father’s office, the invoices that never lined up, going through it all tonight in my car. I tell her about the report. The soil, the piling nobody added, David’s handwriting telling my father to wait and my father’s silence and what I think it means. I watch her face while I say her father’s name, watch her lips slowly press together, her body stilling.

Then I tell her about Moretti. Every little fucking thing. The blackmail. The wedding being moved up. And then the worst of it—him having her address, her school, her job. The “I don’t give warnings twice.”

“I don’t know what to say.” She’s quiet, taking it all in. I don’t blame her. “I’m in danger from Ella’s father? Does she know?”

“No,” I tell her. “To Ella, her father is this upstanding guy. A business man. She hasn’t given any inclination that she knows a thing about what he really does.”

“Or how he’s involved with you,” she says slowly. “That’s so fucked up.”

“Yeah.” I don’t know what to do with that thought right now, so I set it aside. “Sawyer, you can’t stay here tonight. Not alone.”

“I’ve lived alone for years. I’m not about to let some asshole scare me out of my apartment because of a phone call.”

I follow her into the kitchen, where she gets a glass of water and drops into a chair.

“Do I need to repeat myself? He knows your address, your entire life’s schedule.” It comes out harsher and louder than I mean it to. I hope it gets my point across, but this is Sawyer. She’s almost as stubborn as me. “I need you somewhere he doesn’t know to look. Just for a while. Until I figure out what he’s actually going to do versus what he just wants me thinking he’ll do.”

“And where exactly would you like me to go? Your house? Oh, wait, you have a fiancée.”

“I don’t know yet.” Saying that out loud scares the shit out of me. “I just know it’s not here.”

She crosses her arms, not arguing, which for Sawyer is basically a full surrender, and I know she’s more shaken than she’s letting on.