by Hannah Ford
This was real life.
And in real life, things were ugly.
They were fucked up.
Noah was right.
He couldn’t be with someone who didn’t trust him.
I slipped my engagement ring off my finger.
I studied it for a moment, the beautiful, simplistic elegance of the stone and the way it was cut. But it was just a mirage. It was just a stone. It was only worth whatever value we put on it, just like anything else in life.
I let it drop from my hands down the sewer grate, waiting to hear the satisfying sound as it hit the water below. But it landed at the bottom quietly, no sound, no finality.
I turned and walked into the building, feeling untethered.
NOAH
I watched her in the rearview mirror, standing by the curb, dressed in my shirt.
She looked small. And lost.
I reached for the button that would roll down the partition, ready to tell Jared to stop, to pull over, to turn around.
Then I stopped.
She was everything I’d ever wanted.
But my job, above everything else, was to protect her.
It was to keep her safe.
And I was failing.
She knew now, about Lameuix.
She would try to find him. I couldn’t make her understand, couldn’t figure out a way to make her stop, to tell her she was in over her head, that what she was getting into was much more dangerous than what had happened with Professor Worthington.
And yet, she was in this situation because of me.
I’d gotten her involved.
They would look for her now, even if I could convince her not to go after them.
Her only chance would be for me to stay far, far away from her.
“My God,” I said to myself, and my head was in my hands as I bit back the scream that threatened to erupt from my throat. “My God, Noah, what have you done?”
End Of Book Eighteen
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