Chapter 25

Chloe

I toss and turn nearly every minute through the night. Real sleep isn't going to happen, and I switch between briefly dozing to waking up to check the time on my cell.

Once it's been long enough and I know Dom is dead to the world, I slip out of bed and into the closet across the room.

It's nearly daylight, but I know he'll be down for a while, considering how late we were up. Still, I'm as quiet as possible as I pull shirts and pants from the rack.

I feel like I can't leave any trace of myself here, so I take everything I've brought over. I'll head straight to my apartment and get the rest of my things.

Hildale Port is soon to just be a vision in my rearview mirror.

Hitting the bathroom for my stuff in there, I finish loading up the duffle and creep out of the master bedroom.

I know where the creaks are in the floor. I've noted them since I started staying with Dom, and I avoid each one.

The living room is silent and empty as I take one last look around. Tears sting at the corner of my eyes but keeping Dom alive is way more important than my troublesome feelings.

I want to go back for the stuff in my locker at Opal.

Still, I know I won't be able to sneak in there without someone recognizing me, so unfortunately, I won't be able to erase my presence from the club.

I take a shuddering breath as I pull the door closed behind me and lock it up with the key Dom made for me. Kneeling, I slide the key through the gap to get it safely back to its owner.

At first, as I stand up, vertigo takes me for a second, and I think I'm having another panic attack. My heart is racing, and I can't breathe.

But it's not that. I'm not overwhelmed by worry any more than normal.

I'm devasted.

I don't want to leave Dom. Fuck, I really don't. But I have to.

My gut pinches tight, the frustrating feeling of guilt and regret making me nauseated.

Each step is like a lead weight on my shoes, and I fight hard against the sobs threatening to bring me to my knees.

One more right and one more left. It's all I can do. So, I just keep going until I reach the elevator, and it's a little bit easier to move.

Riding it down, I find my car parked next to Dom's in the massive underground lot, and I retrieve my keys from my pocket.

Opening up the trunk, I toss my duffle inside, nearly brought down by sobs again as I see that Dom has taken the time to replace the spare tire for my car.

"Damn you."

The car starts up, and I stare vacantly out the windshield before blinking several times to clear my eyes and pull out of the spot.

As I drive out of the parking lot, I realize the sun is almost completely risen—longer days ahead as we approach summer.

Another pang rocks me as I remember the amazing movie nights I've had with Dom.

"No, no. You have to go, to protect him. Come on. Pull it together."

It's a bit of a drive to my apartment, but I don't turn on the radio or stream something from my phone.

Silence is all I want right now as I watch the world pass by my car. My phone is hanging in the vent-mount phone holder, so it makes a strange clattering noise when it starts to vibrate.

I don't recognize the 1-800 number off the bat, so I answer and put it on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Ms. Hamilton?" The man's voice is bland, like a newscaster, free of any accent or intense emotion.

"Yes."

"Ms. Hamilton, glad I could reach you. I'm Charles, calling about the medical debt associated with services from New Hope Hospital for Grace Hamilton. Your account is past due, and this is an attempt to collect the payment owed."

The blood drains from my face, and I almost blow through a red light. I sigh hard, glaring over at the phone.

"Are you still there, Ms. Hamilton?"

The guy is nice enough, but still, I want to do nothing more than hang up.

"Yes. Sorry. I'll get the money to you as soon as I can."

"If you're having trouble paying the full amount, we can put you on a payment plan."

My brain is churning. This is so not the time for this annoying call, but the guy is just doing his job.

Dom's words flash through my mind. A nobody just hired to do a job.

"T-that's great, um, yeah." I stumble over my words. "I definitely want to do that, but I can't talk right now. I'm driving."

"Is there a better time to schedule a follow-up?"

"Um, I don't know. Just call back."

I hang up, sighing heavily as the light goes green. Hell of a morning.

Taking off from the stop light, my leg bounces on the car floor as I try to smoothly accelerate with the other. I know I need to get that bill taken care of, but I'm still short on the amount.

By a lot.

A payment plan really would be helpful. Maybe I can set something up once I'm a few towns over.

First, I need to get out of Hildale Port and as far away from Ethan Noble as possible—as far as a tank of gas will get me.

I pull up to the curb in front of my crappy apartment. God, I have not missed this place.

Turning off the car, I snag my keys and purse, deciding to leave the duffle in the trunk and look for another bag once I'm inside.

I can hear the distant whoosh of cars a few streets down as I walk up the cracked sidewalk to my door. As I reach to stick my key in the lock, I freeze.

It's cracked.

The door isn't shut all the way, and I can see the wood itself has been busted right near the knob. Someone broke in .

I pull out my phone, ready to call the cops, but as I step inside, I lose any focus I may have had.

The place has been completely upended; broken glass and shredded furniture fill the living room, and there are dozens of papers scattered everywhere.

Slowly stepping inside, I notice my couch cushions have been slashed clear through the middle. Stranger still, even though I didn't bring any of my decor items with me when I ran from Ethan, there are smashed bits on the floor—remnants of all my little figurines and crystal containers.

A loud crunch bursts out as I accidentally step on one, and I see another one of those pieces of paper lying next to it.

At least, I thought they were just papers.

"What the hell?"

Reaching down to flip it over, I realize this is thick photo paper, and revealing the other side shows a picture of me and Ethan from when we first met.

My eyes have been scratched out.

I rush around, groping for the other images and finding more of the same. Photos of Ethan and me, the ones I was never allowed to post on social, with my eyes scratched out or stabbed clear through.

There are dozens of them, and the panic building in my lungs forces me to hyperventilate as I fall to my knees.

"No, no, no."

The sobs pour from me, harder and harder, and I'm terrified to move. But I have to. I can't stay here.

"I-I can't stay anywhere." The words are a disjointed mumble as I try to pull myself up off the floor.

Rushing to the back where my bedroom is, I hurry to the closet to look for a bag and the rest of my clothes.

I find another small suitcase that I brought with me and fling it open. Hangers swing wildly while others fall off the rack as I yank my clothes free.

They all go in the suitcase, and then I head to the tiny plastic dresser near my bed to get my underwear and socks. As I turn, I notice the bed was torn apart as well.

Lying on the bare mattress, which has been slashed through with some type of knife, is my discarded Opal uniform—the one Dominick tore through.

My gut heaves, and I have to run to the bathroom and get to the toilet.

When my stomach is empty, I struggle to catch my breath, and it comes out in ragged gasps.

"How did he…?"

My skin is clammy and flushed, and I go to splash my face in the sink. The water is frigid.

Rinsing the bile from my mouth and cooling my face, I reach under the sink for a towel. I snag the tiny, glorified washcloth and wipe myself off.

As I sit on the bathroom floor, I notice a small black bag has been stuffed under my sink. I don't recognize it.

"Jesus Christ. What now?"

If it contains evidence I can use against Ethan, I have to take a look. But my fingers tremble as I reach for it.

The bag is weirdly heavy as I pull it onto my lap, and my already-pounding heart kicks up another notch. I feel like I could have a heart attack at any second.

I can't stand my own thoughts. I'm panicked there could be something terrible inside, like more bugs or something much, much worse.

It feels solid, almost brick-shaped, and a minuscule fleck of relief trickles through me. Grabbing the zipper, I pull on it to reveal the contents.

At first, I just stare at it. I have no idea what I'm looking at. It's just a square mass of white. It's wrapped in layers of plastic wrap.

Pulling it out, I hold a large block of something white, and then it hits me.

"Oh, fuck. Is this…?"

"Don't!"

I jump. Suddenly, Dom is hurrying toward me. He skids to a halt as he kneels on the floor by my side, and I shake my head.

"Dom? How are you here?"

Using the bag to take the drugs out of my hand and put it back on the floor, he glares at me.

"Did you really think I wasn't going to figure out you left? That you'd come here?"

I sink into myself. "I…"

"What the fuck, Chloe?" He shakes his head, his brows down over his eyes. "You just left. Not a word, not a note. Nothing."

"You don't understand. I couldn't?—"

"You're damn right. I don't understand." Dom looks around the house. "This is where you thought you should go? Seriously?"

I push away from him, standing up and going back to the bedroom to grab my suitcase. Dom follows right on my heels, of course.

"Dom, this—" I gesture around me "—is exactly why I left. This could have been your house, your club. I couldn't just sit there and let Ethan hurt another person I care about."

Snagging the bag, I spin around to leave this fucking place, but Dom stops me, blocking my path.

"I can handle myself, Chloe, and I told you I wanted to be here. I don't need you to run away to protect me. You'll get yourself killed."

I sigh, throwing my hands up as Dom continues to prevent my exit. "And so what? Huh?"

Dom's mouth falls open as he shrinks back ever so slightly, like I've slapped him.

"I'm no good to anyone. I brought all this trouble with me, and I will not let it do any more damage."

Reaching for my arm, Dom shakes his head, but I pull away, finally moving around him toward the door.

"Chloe! You can't do this. Don't do this."

I speak without looking back at him.

"No, Dom. Being near me is like standing next to an active volcano. You're going to get burned, and there's no way to tell how bad it's going to be."

"You need to listen to reason." Dom is right behind me. "This isn't how you fix this. You?—"

As I reach the front door, yanking it open because Dom must've shut it, I stop dead in my tracks, Dom nearly knocking me down as he collides with me.

A line of squad cars is parked on the street just outside my apartment, and my car is completely blocked. A handful of officers step forward, guns raised as they shuffle toward me.

"Hands up! Don't move!"

My heart sputters as I drop the suitcase to the ground and hold my hands over my head. My stomach tightens again as I frantically look around and see the number of cops surrounding me.

Dom's arms go up as he steps to my side, and I flick my eyes to him, silently screaming, What the hell is going on?

"Chloe Hamilton?"

I hesitate. A stupid part of me wants to lie, but I know that would never work in my favor.

"Yes? What's happening?"

"You're under arrest for the possession and intent to sell a controlled substance."

Horror tears through me like a shock wave. One of the officers slips by and into the house, coming back out into the hall with the white powder.

"Got it!" he yells.

"What? No! That's not?—"

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney?—"

But I can't comprehend his words. I look at Dom, my eyes wide as the most panic I've felt in my life slices through me.

"I didn't…Ethan, he…"

Dom is right by my side as the officer spins me around and cuffs my wrists. Oh my God, I'm in handcuffs.

"Chloe—" Dom speaks in my face, trying to get my attention, and my tears spill out endlessly "—I got you, okay? You'll be all right. I'm calling Cam."

"I didn't…"

He's only given a moment to kiss my forehead before another cop pulls him back, and I'm directed to a squad car. The officer who has my cuffed wrists opens the door and ducks my head as he pushes me inside.

"Oh my God." The words tumble out, and I can't breathe.

I'm in a police cruiser. They're arresting me for drug possession. I didn't do anything. This is going to ruin my teaching career. My life.

I look out the window and see Dom restrained at the stoop. His eyes hold mine, and then the car starts to pull away.

The last thing I see is Dom arguing with the officer before the man lets him go, and Dom rushes over to his car.

How did the fuck did this happen? How am I about to go to jail?