Chapter 35

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Misha

The rhythmic thud of fists against leather fills the gym. Grey braces against the punching bag, holding it steady as I channel my frustration into each strike.

We're trying to distract ourselves from the thought of Amelia and Oliver on their date.

And frankly, it's not working.

My fists pound harder into the bag, each strike an attempt to silence the turmoil in my head. The memory of her smile, the sound of her laughter—they haunt me, even here.

"This isn't helping, is it?" Grey asks.

"Not one bit," I admit, stepping back to catch my breath, sweat dripping from my brow. "We need to figure this shit out. What are we doing, Grey? What is this? Are we just going to tell her that we all want her? Do we give her the choice?"

Grey lets his arms hang, his eyes dark and conflicted. "I don't know, man. I just want her to be happy, but I just can't seem to figure out how this would work."

"This is bullshit. All of it is bullshit. I've never been in love before, and correct me if I'm wrong, I don't think you have either." I search his eyes, and he just shakes his head. "And now we fall for the same woman Oliver fell for the second he saw her?"

Grey huffs out a laugh, the sound bitter. "I was so fed up with his simping. Now look at us."

It seems Amelia does that to you.

She makes you a fucking simp.

I've always been the carefree one, the guy who never took anything too seriously. And now, here I am, utterly consumed by thoughts of her. "It's like she's a magnet," I mutter, more to myself than to Grey. "She pulls you in without even trying."

He nods, his expression softening for a moment. "Yeah, she does. And it scares the hell out of me."

We finish our workout in silence, and by the time we step into the elevator, a sense of dread has settled in my stomach.

Are they still out? Is he sleeping over?

The elevator stops, and the doors open on Amelia's floor. Oliver stands outside, smiling down at his shoes. When he looks up and sees us, his face lights up with a happiness that cuts through me like a knife.

At least he's here and not in her bed.

"How was it?" Grey asks, but I can hear how strained his voice sounds.

"My favorite night ever," Oliver murmurs, practically bouncing on his feet when he comes to stand next to us.

"What does that mean? You guys kissed?" I ask, unsure if I really want to know the answer.

I can still feel her lips on mine.

Oliver just beams at me, his eyes sparkling like I've never seen before. He sure looks like someone who just kissed his two-year-long crush. I force a smile, trying to be happy for him, but Grey's face tells the story I can't.

"Fuck this," he mutters as we step out of the elevator on our floor.

We walk into our apartment, the tension between us thick. I head straight for the kitchen and grab a glass, filling it with water to calm my nerves. Oliver strides to the home office with a spring in his step.

"What are you doing?" Grey asks, his eyebrows knitted in frustration.

"Checking if she's as giddy as I am."

I hesitate, the glass of water halfway to my lips.

I want to see it too.

Want to see if she looks happier than she was with me.

Setting the glass down, I follow them to the home office.

Oliver wakes up the screens, but nothing happens. The camera feed doesn't load.

I frown, my pulse picking up. "What's going on?"

Oliver clicks through different systems. "Jamie's still offline. But now I'm not getting access to the camera's or her home system either."

"You sure?" I ask, glancing at Grey.

"Yes, I-"

Grey's patience snaps. "Move," he says, stepping forward and pushing Oliver to the side. He hacks into her system, bypassing firewalls and security protocols. For a moment, the screens remain black, and my stomach tightens.

Then, one by one, the cameras flicker to life and we're back in. But something is wrong.

Her apartment looks…empty. No movement. No sign of her.

I feel a wave of unease wash over me. "Didn't you just bring her home? "

"I did," Oliver says, frowning as well. "Maybe she's already in her bedroom?" But the light is on in the apartment while the bedroom is dark. Oliver checks the motion sensor, and no motion is detected there. "You said Jamie is still offline, because she put him in time-out, right?"

"Yeah, it drives me nuts, why?" Grey asks, searching the screens for her.

"He seems to be gone," Oliver mutters. "But that can't be true."

What the…

"There, her bookshelf in the corner fell over," Grey says, and I feel my stomach sink. "The fuck? Her door is open. Check the thermal mapping. Is she even home?"

Oliver's fingers fly over the keyboard with lightning speed. His brow furrowed in concentration. I watch, my heart pounding as he sucks in a sharp breath when the thermal map finally loads on the screen. Without missing a beat, he switches between camera feeds.

My stomach drops as I see Amelia on her back on the floor behind the couch, completely motionless.

"Amelia!" Oliver's voice cracks with panic, the fear in his tone mirroring the dread that's rapidly spreading through my chest.

Without a second thought, we spring into action. In unison, we dash from the room, our feet pounding the corridor. Bypassing the elevator, we hurtle down the stairwell, plunging four stories to get to her.

My mind is a whirlwind of terrifying possibilities, each worse than the last. I can barely breathe.

What the fuck happened?

The question screams in my head, over and over, as we race to reach her. Please, please be okay, I silently plead, every second feeling like an eternity.

Amelia

"Amelia!"

I wake to the sensation of someone shaking me, my consciousness slowly clawing its way back.

My head pounds with a dull, persistent ache as I try to make sense of the panicked voice cutting through the thick fog enveloping my mind.

"Stanley, wake up!" Hendricks' voice is laced with an urgency that sends a jolt of adrenaline through my sluggish system. My eyes flutter open, struggling against the harsh light, and I see him take a deep, relieved breath. "Thank God, are you okay?"

He's close, his face etched with concern, but then he leans back, giving me space to breathe.

"I don't know…" I manage to croak out, my throat feeling dry and scratchy.

Before I can gather my thoughts, Oliver, Misha, and Grey charge into my apartment like a well-coordinated SWAT team. In a blur of movement, my sweet, soft-spoken Oliver tackles Hendricks off me and to the ground with surprising force, landing on top of him so hard that his glasses are knocked askew.

Oh wow.

"What did you do to her?" Oliver's voice is sharp, a tone I've rarely heard from him.

Why is that so hot?

"Hey, easy, there. I was just coming home and saw that her door was open, and she was lying on the floor. I wanted to help!" Hendricks protests, his voice shaky.

I can see him struggling under Oliver's grip, his eyes wide with panic.

"And why should we believe you?" Misha asks, coming to stand beside Oliver, arms crossed over his chest, his voice dripping with suspicion.

Grey squats beside me, his familiar scent of coffee and buttered rum enveloping me. His strong hands gently pull me to sit upright, and I feel a wave of dizziness wash over me as he strokes my cheek, but his fingers against my skin ground me somewhat.

"Hey, Princess. You okay?"

I attempt to nod, but a throbbing ache manifests at the base of my skull, pulsating in rhythm with the beating of my heart. Instinctively, my hand rises, and I wince as my fingertips graze a tender lump that seems about the size of a golf ball. "Ouch," I mutter, the word coming out like a slur as I lean into Grey.

His hand reaches up, his fingertips gently stroking over the bump. "Fuck, that must hurt," he whispers, his voice laced with concern. Then I feel the warmth of his lips as he kisses my temple. "Can you stand?"

"Yes," I murmur, even though my head is still spinning. Grey stands first, extending his hand to me. I take it, and the strength of his grip helps pull me up.

"Hendricks didn't do anything," I mumble, as I see that Oliver is still on top of him, holding him down. "He was trying to help. Somebody was already inside my flat when I got here."

The guys exchange glances, and then Oliver reluctantly releases Hendricks, who doesn't waste a second. He scrambles to his feet, casts a wary look around, and without another word, hurries out of my apartment, the door slamming shut behind him with a bang that makes me flinch.

Misha takes a quick walk around the space, searching my bedroom and en suite. "Seems like whoever was here is gone."

Somebody was in my apartment .

The realization sends a chill running down my spine.

"Come on, we need to get you to the hospital," Grey insists, his hand on my elbow.

"No, I don't need to go," I murmur, but then a cold realization washes over me. "Wait," I gasp, stumbling toward my coffee table.

My laptop. They took my laptop.

I frantically search, my heart racing. "It's gone."

"What's gone?" Oliver asks, concern etching his features as he comes to stand beside me, reaching out to hold my upper arm.

"They stole my laptop. All my work…" Suddenly, another horrifying thought hits me. "Oh God."

Panic rises in my chest as I grab my tablet from the couch, fingers shaking as I try to access Jamie.

Nothing.

I open the folders in my cloud with my backups, but they're all gone too.

I lost not only my project but theirs.

"Everything's gone," I choke out. "Jamie's gone too." I have to bite my cheek not to cry. "I'm so sorry. I can't even—"

"He's not gone," Grey cuts in, looking up from where he's replanting a fallen fern. "I told you. You can't just get him out of your system. There's too much security involved. If they tried to extract him, he would have uploaded a backup into my cloud and uninstalled himself. Same if they took your laptop with the hardware. Jamie isn't gone. He probably just pushed the self-destruct button because of the threat."

I breathe a sigh of relief, but the knot in my stomach remains.

My work is still gone .

Grey stands and brushes his hands off his sweatpants. I notice that Misha is in workout attire too.

Where were they?

Grey steps closer, tilting my chin up with his thumb. His piercing gaze searches my face, concern etched in the lines around his eyes. "What is it? Are you hurting that bad? We should get you to the hospital."

"No… it's not that," I murmur, averting my eyes. The weight of my loss presses down on me, making it hard to breathe.

"What is it then?" he presses.

The reality is sinking in like a stone in my stomach. My AR, my work, everything I've poured my heart and soul into… gone. Vanished into the ether as if it never existed.

What are they going to do with it?

Did they just want to have it for themselves?

Misha moves closer, his hand warm and comforting on my shoulder. "What is it, Bug?"

They're all around me now, touching me, trying to comfort me. Their presence is both reassuring and suffocating.

How can I explain?

It's not just data or code. It's a piece of me, my dreams.

"I don't know," I whisper.

Grey's eyes narrow, his brow furrowing. "Why are you lying?"

"I'm not lying," I protest weakly, but even to my own ears, it sounds unconvincing.

"Tell me," he insists once more, his tone brooking no argument.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I had a project, an AR project. I was working on something… and it's gone now."

"Tell us about it," Oliver probes gently .

I hesitate, my fingers twisting nervously. Grey's voice cuts through the tension, firm and unyielding. "Amelia, we need to know to help. Whatever it is, we're here."

Let's hope he still thinks that way when Elysium fires me for this.

"I… I made AR visible to the naked eye," I confess on a whisper.

To my surprise, they don't react with astonishment or disbelief. They just nod as if this revelation isn't earth-shattering, as if I hadn't just admitted to achieving what many thought impossible.

I blink, stunned by their nonchalant reaction. "You don't believe me?" I ask, my voice tinged with confusion and a hint of hurt.

I can't even prove it now.

Grey shakes his head. "Oh, we do. And that explains why someone would break in here to get it."

Oliver shifts nervously, his fingers drumming against his thigh. "Should we call the police?"

"No," I say quickly, panic rising in my chest. "I… I could get into trouble for this. Let's just say it wasn't authorized by Elysium, and I may have used some resources from them. Off the books, so to speak."

Fuck, did I just admit to that?

They exchange glances, and Grey mutters, "That explains it."

"Explains what?" I ask, but he ignores me.

"Sounds like we have to find out ourselves," Grey says, glancing at Oliver, who nods in agreement.

"What are you even saying?" I ask, rubbing the back of my head. "Ouch."

Oliver bends down with gentle hands, ready to lift me. "Come on, we're going to the hospital. "

"No, I don't want to. It's just a bump," I protest, determined to avoid making a fuss.

Even if avoiding making said fuss is making a fuss.

"Fine," he sighs. "Then I'll carry you up to our apartment. I'm going to call Morgan to come check you out, at least."

"It's already late," I protest again, not wanting to wake her up for this.

"Amelia, you're going to let her check you out, or I'm going to put you over my shoulder, spank your ass and carry you to that goddamn hospital. Do you hear me?" Grey's patience seems to hang by a threat.

Fine.

"I can walk," I mutter to Oliver.

"I know." He utters quietly but doesn't relent, scooping me up in his arms. The warmth of his body against mine is comforting and despite my protests, I find myself relaxing into his embrace.

As we move toward the door, a thought strikes me, cutting through the fog in my mind.

Wait… how?

"Why are you here?" I blurt out.

"What?" Misha asks, confusion evident in his voice.

He exchanges a quick glance with Grey, who's hovering nearby.

"Why are you here? I mean, the three of you just came over. How did you know I needed help?" I press, suddenly aware of how odd the timing was.

Oliver was just heading back to their apartment. There was no reason they'd be coming back.

They exchange a glance, and the silence stretches just a tad too long before Oliver says, "I wanted to come back for my birthday socks… and maybe another kiss."

He leans down, pressing a kiss on my lips that sends a flutter through my heart and momentarily silences my critical thoughts, now more concerned about Grey and Misha watching that kiss. But when I glance over, they're both pointedly looking in other directions.

"Thank you for coming," I whisper before leaning my temple against his chest, tired all of a sudden.

"Always," Oliver murmurs when we step out of my apartment, and Grey closes the door behind us.