Hooked: A Dark, Contemporary Romance (Never After #1)(76)
His body trembles beneath my grasp, his hiccups and heavy sobs making his words sputter.
“Tell me!” I spit, my knife pressing deeper, drips of his blood running down his face.
“Moira!” he cries. “Her name is Moira.”
43
Wendy
“Wendy?”
Relief flows through me when I hear Jon’s voice. I was in the shower, and when I got out and saw that I had missed his call, I started blowing him up until he answered, not wanting to do anything until I heard him speak.
“Jon, hi,” I breathe down the line. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“I miss you so much, my dude.” My voice cracks, the emotions from the past few weeks bubbling over. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to call until now.”
“Oh, it’s okay, James told me you were sick.”
My breath stalls. “Ja… what?”
“Yeah, he said that’s why he was calling to check on me instead. Listen, I really don’t need babysitters.”
My heart explodes in my chest, my mind racing at what he’s saying; at what that means.
“When did—” I clear my throat. “When did you talk to James?”
“Almost every freaking day since I’ve been here, Wendy. That’s what I’m trying to say. It’s a little overbearing.”
“He calls you?” My throat swells.
“Yeah, did you not know?”
My chest cracks wide open, tears rimming my lower lids. Even when he was threatening me, he was checking on Jon. Does that mean he was always bluffing?
“No, I knew,” I sniff. “I’ll let him know to back off.”
“Okay, thanks. Hey, you gonna be home tonight?”
My brows pull in, and I glance around. “Yeah, why?”
“Dad said he’s picking me up and to call and let you know.”
My stomach twists when I realize he’s talking about the mansion. “Dad’s coming to get you?” I repeat, unsure I heard him right.
“Yeah. Said there’s something he wants to tell us. I don’t know, but I don’t really want to be with him by myself.”
My loyalty splits in two, wanting to stay true to James, and knowing he wouldn’t want me anywhere near my dad, but also wanting to be there for Jon. And as much as I want to say no, wait for James to come home and pretend my dad doesn’t exist, I know I can’t. Not if it gives me a chance to see my brother. “Okay. I’ll head there now.”
“Cool.”
“Cool,” I repeat back, smiling as I hang up.
There’s a lightness floating through me from the anticipation of seeing him, even though guilt wraps around my middle, knowing James will hate that I’m there. But hopefully, he’ll be able to see things from my point of view.
I was feeling off all morning. I told James I loved him, and he couldn’t say it back. Not that I was expecting it, but still, when you lay out your emotions, it hurts when they aren’t returned. But him checking in on Jon, even while he was spinning a different tale to me? That means more than any words ever could. I pull up James’s number on my phone and dial, my heart swelling with gratitude for what he’s done. I want him to know that I know, and I also want to tell him where I’ll be. He won’t be happy, but he promised not to control my life.
I’m not a hostage anymore, and I won’t let him tell me who I can and can’t see.
His phone rings and rings, but he doesn’t answer. I frown, trying to dispel the unease the trickles into my gut. I leave him a message and then send a text, just in case, and blow out a breath, brushing off the anxiety.
An hour later, I’m pulling James’s Audi into the mansion’s drive, and being stopped at the gates.
My brows draw in at the new, extensive security features that line the perimeter. Four men are stationed on the outside and one walks up to my window, knocking on the glass.
I roll it down, confusion spiraling through me. “Uhh… Hi. I’m Wendy.”
His brow raises.
“Peter’s daughter? He’s probably expecting me.”
The man doesn’t speak, just nods and walks away, whispering into another guy’s ear before they open the gates and let me through.
What the hell?
Nerves snap and crackle beneath my skin, like ants scurrying through my veins. I’m so disgusted with my father I can hardly see straight. Not that I’m the gatekeeper on morals, after all, I’m in love with a man whose morals are severely lacking at best. But at least he owns who he is. My father puts on a show, fooling the masses.
Fooling me.
I park my car and walk up the brick walkway, opening the front door and making my way inside. It’s eerily quiet, and my stomach tenses with nerves.
“Jonathan? Dad?” My voice echoes off the high ceilings in the foyer, but nobody responds.
Odd.
I walk into the formal living room, pulling out my phone to bring up Jon’s number.
“You came.”
The voice shocks me, and I spin, my phone flying across the room, cracking as it hits the floor. My hand shoots to my chest, my heart banging underneath my palm. “Jesus, Tina. You scared me.”