Page 73 of Branded Betrayal

One missed call.

If I glare at it hard enough, maybe it’ll just fucking disappear.

But even if it did, he’d still manage to find me.

And Savvie.

Rage burns hot in my chest. Again, the ringtone shatters the silence.

But it’s not Wilkerson’s name flashing across the screen. It’s Colt’s.

I stab the Accept button. “Yeah?”

“There’s been an accident,” he says, his voice choked. “You need to get to the hospital now. It’s Wyatt.”

My throat tightens, Wilkerson’s voice ringing between my ears like clashing cymbals.

“I have the power to destroy everyone you care about, Blaze. Just remember that. I own you, and if you step out of line, you know exactly what I’ll take.”

The phone slips from my fingers and clatters on the floor.

What the fuck have I done?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Savannah

The sharp sound jolts me. “Blaze, what happened?”

He turns to look at me, horror etched into his expression.

But he doesn’t answer. He just grabs his clothes, pulls them on, and storms out of the room.

I dress quickly and follow him out to the foyer. “Please tell me what’s going on. Let me hel—”

“You can’t help,” he yells, whipping around to level me with a look carved out of stone before he pulls out his keys. “Nobody can fucking help, okay? I caused this. I caused fucking everything.”

I recoil, the sharp bite of his words like a throat punch. Swallowing hard, I step toward him. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t you dare lash out at me like that. I’m just worried. I want to be here for you. Why can’t you just fucking let me? For once? Why can’t you let me in?”

His shoulders slump, and he scrubs a hand down the front of his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You didn’t deserve it. But I need to get to the hospital. You should go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You may be too much of a stubborn ass to realize that people need people in times of crisis, but I’m not. And you can’t just send me away. So either tell me where we’re going or don’t, but I’m not leaving you. Whatever happened, we will figure it out. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

He nods silently and walks out of the room. I follow and pull the door closed behind me. His boots dig into the ground with each stiff, angry step he takes toward his truck, as if he’s trying to stamp out whichever of his demons is hot on his heels. He stops to open the door for me, and I hop into the passenger seat, so many unanswered questions looping through my mind.

Questions I can’t ask. Answers I’ll likely not want to hear.

I chew on my thumbnail as he speeds down to the main road, the silence between us deafening. I have no idea where we’re going or who it involves. But he’s clearly distraught and driving like a maniac, so that tells me it’s bad. Really bad.

I wrap my hand around the side handle on the door. Trees whip past, storm clouds gathering overhead. The sky darkens more with each second that ticks past. I rub my hands over my prickled skin, the tiny hairs springing up as if they know what’s happened . . .

Or what’s about to happen.

Both scenarios freak me the hell out because I’ve never seen Blaze so . . . affected. His knuckles are white, spine stiff, eyes murderous. In the past, he’d give glimpses into his emotions but then would pull everything back when it got too real. And when that happened, his normal MO would be to bury all signs of what he was really feeling behind taut, caustic words.

His defense mechanism, I guess.

I wish I had one against him.