Chapter Five
Emery
It was risky, and I shouldn’t have come back, but I couldn’t—
I had to try to get my journal. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane, especially now I’ve lost my camera.
The door to my apartment didn’t look like it had been tampered with, and I hadn’t heard anything before I opened the door.
I try to calm the panic still running through my veins at being jumped by two hundred pounds of muscle. Muscle that’s still holding me against the battered wall of my apartment, asking questions that, even if I were listening, I’d have no answers for.
But no. My attention is locked on Sebastian, who seems equally stuck in place, his expression unreadable.
The sight of him relieves some of my fear, given the alternative, but I still can’t be here. If they were able to track me here, clearly, I’m not as well hidden as I thought. It’s only a matter of time before—
My head thumps into the wall, rattling my teeth, and something hard pokes into my spine through my backpack, snapping whatever connection had taken hold of us.
“Tell me who you are.” I focus again on the man in front of me. Easton Woods. He narrows his eyes at me as I try to keep my composure.
No longer held in place by an invincible force, Sebastian steps towards us but stays silent.
My eyes ping-pong between them.
“Answer the fucking question,” Easton snaps.
“I—” I clear my throat and take a deep breath, settling on Sebastian again. There’s no way I’m telling them my real name, so I choose something else. “Grace. Grace Winters.”
My middle name and my mother’s maiden name. A lingering sadness flares at thoughts of my mum, but I push them down. Thinking about the past only makes the present so much more painful.
I learnt that lesson the hard way.
“Who are you working for?”
I look to Easton for a moment before I’m drawn back to Sebastian, but from the way Easton’s jaw clenches, he’s not thrilled at being overlooked.
“I’m not working for anyone.”
“Bullshit,” Easton spits, the threat evident in the deep tone of his voice.
The grip on my shoulder turns painful as the forearm holding me presses harder. I can’t stop the fear swirling through me, trying to sink its claws in.
“We found your camera, and you weren’t very thorough with this place.” His eyes darken for a second, an unreadable emotion flickering across his face, disappearing as fast as it had appeared.
My heart thuds, my gaze darting around the room as I fight a silent battle against the emotions trying to take over.
Oh God, did they find my journal?
I search the small space, but I don’t see it anywhere. A sheen of sweat beads on my brow as I study the men in front of me, trying to make out if they already have it.
No bags. No bulging pockets.
I let out a cautious breath.
But where is it?
I definitely put it in my bag before—
My gaze snaps back to the bed where I had thrown my bag earlier. It must have fallen out, but it’s not on the bed.