Page 78 of Savage Roses
“I can’t let you.”
My glare darkens. “I’m not asking for your permission, Stitches. I’mgoingto speak to him.”
“Look, Miss ADA, you can’t. It’s… it’s not allowed.”
“Excuse me? You’re testing the wrong one today, Stitches. We’re friends and you’re my security. We’re on good terms, but you don’t hold any authority over me. I’m going to talk to him regardless of what you want. Honestly? Fuck off if you think it’s your place to try to stop me.”
I stride over to the nightstand table where I usually charge my phone overnight.
My iPhone is gone. It’s nowhere to be found on the nightstand and when I go look, it’s not in my purse.
It’s nowhere because it’s been confiscated.
“Stitches,” I growl. “Give me back my fucking phone!”
From behind his wire-framed glasses, his light brown eyes fill with apology. “I can’t, Miss ADA. Strict orders. No communication with the outside world. That includes cellular devices.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Psycho’s orders. I told you. You’re… you’re in hiding. You can’t go anywhere, and you can’t talk to anyone. You’re to stay here with us, your security. It’s for the best while everything goes down.”
A cold chill that can only be described as dread courses through me. “You’re saying Salvatore… that he… secretly… he put me in hiding so he could go…fight his…”
“That’s right. It was for the best. You’re a liability, Miss ADA. At no fault of your own. But if you got captured, it’s over for us all. Best course of action was to take you completely off the table. Let Psycho and his father handle it man to man. Then, when it’s all said and done, we’ll move on.”
“And if Salvatore doesn’t return?”
My question goes unanswered.
A heaviness fills the empty space and turns the atmosphere dark and ominous.
Stitches rubs the back of his neck and returns his gaze to the window.
Suddenly, I’m wild with panic and impatience again, taking a step toward him. “Stitches, answer me! He’s going to take him out, right? Salvatore’s got the upper hand and he’s going to take out his father?!”
“He should. He should win.”
“Should orwill!?”
“Miss ADA, I can’t… I’m no fortune teller.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper as the heartbreaking reality collapses on me. I twist my fingers in my curls without caring how I mess up and tangle them. “Oh my god,” I repeat in shaky panic. “That was the last time I’m ever going to see him. What if he never comes back? What if he doesn’t make it? What if his father kills him?”
“Hey, calm down! Don’t panic like that. You’ll make yourself crazy—” Stitches ditches the window as I begin pacing.
A habit of mine when I’m falling deep down a black hole of overthinking. Usually, it’s due to some stressful work or academic situation, but this time it’s out of debilitating panic and anguish as tears water my eyes and my body quakes.
“Delphine!” Stitches yells. He reaches for me, but I’m beyond listening.
I’m spiraling.
It’s like I’m in my own world. I couldn’t stop the meltdown if I wanted to.
Then my mind turns to last night, and another devastating realization smacks into me head-on. I stumble to a stop mid-pace, my stare going scarily vacant.
“Last night. The special occasion. He… he knew he was leaving me.”
“Delphine, it tore him up. He didn’t want to. But he had to. You should’ve seen him. He wasn’t himself.”