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Yeah, this man has no interest in making conversation.
He’s fast, crossing the garden towards the main house in long, no-nonsense strides, and I’m out of breath trying to keep up. I follow, wordlessly, through the side door and down a corridor I’ve never been to.
Lorcan’s at the end of it. Arm’s crossed and eyes dark.
Emotion rises in my throat. It feels like I haven’t seen him in weeks. “What’s going on?”
As I get closer, I notice his ticking jaw. I also notice the massive fucking gun he’s holding. Fear creeps through my body.
“You have a visitor,” he grunts. He lifts the rifle from his side and cracks the barrel against the door. “And you also have ten minutes.”
“Who is it?” I all but whisper.
He’s furious. I can see it in the pulsing temple and his flaring nostrils. He’s furious atme.
“Ten minutes,” he says, setting his gaze somewhere above my head. “And don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be right outside.”
My heart is hammering against my chest as I push the door and step into the unknown.
Sam.
I blink. Once, twice. Nope, not dreaming.
He’s pacing the carpet, walking from one bookcase to another, nursing a bloodied temple. “Oh my god,” I say. Before my knees buckle underneath me, he closes the gap between us and tugs me up by under my armpits.
“Poppy,” he gasps, pulling me into a hug. “Oh my god, Poppy.”
I melt into the familiarity of his arms. The light, crisp scent of soap and laundry detergent that clings to his skin reminds me of more than just him. It’s a portal to my old life. Mynormallife.
Eventually, he pushes me away and holds me at arm’s length, studying my face with those big, blue eyes. “I’ve been looking for you all summer, Poppy. What the hell happened?”
“I-you’rebleeding, Sam,” I choke.
He drags the sleeve of his hoodie over his forehead, smearing the blood into his hair. “It doesn’t hurt,” he lies, but the glance over my shoulder towards the door betrays him.
My legs are shaking, and Sam follows me to the sofa. “I-I don’t have long,” I stammer, still dazed. “How did you find me?”
Another glance to the door. Another wipe across his bleeding temple. “Jesus, it feels so long ago now. On your birthday. As soon as I got that text from you, where you asked if I sent the car. I knew something was wrong. I was calling and calling you, standing outside your dorm, but you never replied. At first, I thought maybe Nellie had dragged you out for a few cocktails and you’d forgotten to tell me or something…” he shakes his head, wincing when it hurts. “But I knew that wasn’t like you. I was sick with worry when I came back to your dorm the next day, and Nellie said she hadn’t seen you. That she thought I was taking you to that fancy restaurant downtown and then to a hotel.” With a large gulp, he meets my eyes. “She said you thought we were going to… you know. Is that why you left, Pop? ‘Cause I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to—”
“No,” I hiss, the heat rising to my cheeks. My god. The innocent Poppy cowering at the thought of losing her virginity toSam…hell, I wouldn’t recognize that girl if she was staring at me in the mirror.
“Okay,” he settles back on the sofa a little, basking in the false sense of security. A glance towards the closed door reminds me I know better.
“Anyway, it wasLe Papillon.I headed straight down there, you know, to retrace your steps. Things just got weirder. None of the servers or chefs would talk to me, not even when I showed them a photo and asked if they’d seen you last night. In fact, I only knew for sure that you were there when a girl from our economics class said she saw you going in there. Said you were super-dressed up, like you were going on a date.” His brows knit together, and now it’s his turn to look at the door. “It was with him, wasn’t it?”
With a deep sigh, I let my hair out from its messy bun and massage my scalp.As if that’ll help make any sense of how Sam has managed to wade himself into this nightmare.
“So then what?” I say through gritted teeth. Curiosity, more than anything, is what is fueling my need to know how he found me.
“Well, we were at the end of the semester. Somehow, Nellie managed to convince me that you’d probably gone back to Boston early…” he ruffles his bloodied hand through his hair, eyes darkening when he mentions my friend’s name. “Well, now I realize she thought you were cheating on me. She was covering your tracks, like a good friend would,” he says bitterly. “Only when you didn’t come back after the semester, I started to get really worried.”
“And Nellie?” I choke out. “What did she think when I didn’t return?”
Sam’s jaw sets. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him angry. “At first, she was worried sick.”
“At first?”
“Until we went to the police to report you missing.”
