Page 29 of A Violet Obsession

My mouth goes dry as another notification appears. I don’t want to open it.

When I do, I wish I hadn’t.

Finn. An older photo. He’s wearing fatigues, and has a scruffy beard, and he’s leaning on another man in uniform. My pulse stutters.

What the hell is this?

I scroll to the last photo, and every bit of warmth leaves my body.

Elite’s gates.

A text bubble appears beneath it.

Unknown: There’s no reason to make this more complicated than it needs to be.

My fingers go numb.

Unknown: Leave now. Say whatever you have to, but do not alert anyone that something is wrong. Go home. Wait for instructions tomorrow.

I stare at the words until they blur.

Unknown: If you force my hand, you won’t like the results.

My stomach drops and I think I’m going to be sick.

Another notification. I stop breathing when I open it.

Emma. Her headshot from her agent’s website.

For one wild second, I think about telling Finn. Whatever it is he and Vincent do here, they have gates and guns, and cameras. Surely they can help.

But whoever took the photo of Dawn and Trevor was standing near their driveway. And Emma isn’t hard to find—she lives her entire life on social media. And the photo of Elite’s gates means someone is outside this building now.

I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to breathe.

Think.

One thing is certain. I need to get out of Atlanta. Fast. If I’m gone, there’s no reason for anyone I care about to be threatened. I was already going to leave. The photos just took away the luxury of doing it at my own pace.

I swing my legs off the sofa and reach for my bag. It slips off the cushion and hits the floor with a thud that is loud in the quiet room. The sob I’ve been holding back escapes with it—a raw, ugly sound that I bite off before it can become anything more. But I must not have been fast enough because I hear rapid footsteps.

“Are you all right?” Finn’s eyebrows bunch above his glasses.

His glasses.

I thought Finn was attractive before, but add the glasses and the rolled to the elbow sleeves showing the tattoos on his forearms, and my brain short-circuits for half a second before I register the look on his face. Concern and suspicion in equal measure.

Right. Focus.

I shove my phone in my pocket. “Fine.”

His eyes narrow, tracking the motion of my hand, then move to my face. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I push to my feet. “I just woke up and realized how late it is. I need to go home.”

Finn’s body stills. “No.”

My temper rises so fast it shocks me. “You can’t tell me no!”