Page 93 of Break Me Not

“As long as you're okay. As long as everyone's safe. The art being destroyed is the least of our worries.”

But as I looked at the gallery, I couldn't help but feel like everything was going down the drain.

Stefan might be the owner of this place, but I handled the business. I brought in all the clients. I worked tirelessly when I had nothing else to make a name for myself. This gallery was all I had. It was me. It was the combination of all my pain and struggle and anger and spite.

Now it was burning right before my very eyes. And there was nothing I could do about it.

“It’s okay,” Claire whispered in my ear.

But it wasn't. It was far from okay. And the worst thing was that I knew exactly who had done this. There was no way that this happened by accident.

We had fucked up. We had been lured into a false sense of security because of the lack of action on my ex-husband's part. But he had been waiting. He had been strategizing.

It was my fault. All of this was my fault. I had gotten cocky.

We’d been reckless. He’d seen us—we’d wanted him to see us—and he got angry because of it.

There was no doubt in my mind that he was responsible for this.

But with a fire of this scale… he’d wanted to seriously hurt whoever was inside.

Did he think I was in there? Or did he want to take Jen from me too? Was this his sick way of getting back at me?

I couldn't hold on anymore. As I watched most of my life go up in flames in front of me, I lost it. Tears burst out of me, sobs racking my body.

When I'd gotten divorced, and even when he had tried to take everything from me, I’d never cried this hard. I’d always had two things to hold on to, and one of them was this gallery.

The other was Claire, who fell to the floor with me. My daughter, my rock. She was holding me and whispering in my ear that it would be okay. I wanted to be strong for her. But I couldn't.

For the first time in her life, I let myself crumble into her arms.

Jax

“We thought we had eyes on him, and our men were taking a small break. I was following Liz, and⁠—”

“Get to it,” I spat out at the head of Liz’s security. I was on my way to an important meeting with a prospective client. I was already on edge because I knew today was the day Liz was telling Claire about us, and I'd been watching my phone. I didn't want anyone else clogging up my line just in case Liz needed to call me. Or Claire.

But the moment the next words left his mouth, I was jerking my steering wheel and making a very illegal U-turn in the middle of the road.

“The gallery is on fire.”

I didn't care about the honks. I didn't care about the accidents I almost got myself into. All I could think about was that Liz was there, and the place was burning, and she… Oh God.

My mind automatically went to the worst. Liz stuck in there. Liz begging to be saved. And I wasn't anywhere near her. I couldn't get the images out of my mind. They were on repeat, over and over again.

How did I fail her again?

“No one's hurt. Don't do anything reckless⁠—”

“If you think she’s okay, you don't know her at all.”

But I did. I knew what the gallery meant to her. I saw how much work she put into it and the way she lit up as she was getting ready to go to work. This wasn't just a job for her.

The gallery. Her clients. The art. This was all part of her—of what made Liz who she was. And I knew that even if she was physically okay, she would never be the same.

I honked at the car in front of me, going way too slow, and ended up swerving around it. I sped forward. I need to get there.

“You know what to do. Get our people, liaise with the fire department, and make sure damage is contained. We know who did this. I need a team at his house ASAP.”