I need a fucking miracle.
Living with Callie under my roof and in my bed without touching her is going to require supernatural assistance.
I stalk toward my office with the feel of her body lingering on my hands. Hunger like I’ve never known wars with my sanity, trying to push me over the edge, to give into the darker emotions.
The ones that’ll have Callie running from me. Again.
My office comes into view, and I step inside while shutting the door behind me. I don’t want Callie to see me while I get my shit together. That might require me fucking myself.
So that I don’t fuck her.
I settle into the leather seat and grip the edge of the desk while I compose myself. Now that I know the name of the clinic Callie visited that night, I’m going to discover her secrets. Nothing I learn about her will change the way I see her.
Calista Green may bear the flaws all humans possess, but to me, she’s perfect.
I retrieve my cell phone and dial Zack’s number. He answers on the first ring, easing some of the tension in my body. It would’ve been bad for him if he made me wait tonight, not when the knowledge I’ve been seeking is finally within reach.
“Hey, capo,” he greets. “What can I do for you at this late hour?”
“I need you to comb through every file that appears on June 24th at a private clinic called Elite Health Care. Calista’s is one of them.”
“Do you want me to call you back or do you want to wait while I search? It won’t take long now that you’ve given me the exact location.”
“I’ll hold.”
The sound of his fingers striking the keys is the only noise that penetrates my mind. Unless you count the air flowing to and from my lungs by way of my ragged breathing.
The unsolved mystery of Callie’s past haunted me from the moment I wanted to possess her. I’ve lost sleep from thinking about what happened to her. Whatever it was had to be harrowing if it triggered a panic attack.
“Green is a female in her early 20s,” Zack mumbles to himself. “How much do you think she weighs ,and what’s her height?” After I answer him, he continues. “Whoever worked with this file wasn’t very smart,” Zack says. “I doubt she’s a forty-year old male of the same height and weight that came into the place with a handprint on her neck.”
“Are you sure it’s her file?” When Zack remains silent, I clear my throat. Usually that’s enough to prompt him, but this time it doesn’t. “Zack?”
“Mr. Bennett, you’re not going to like this.”
I clench my teeth at his formal use of my name. If I wasn’t apprehensive before, I sure as fuck am now. “Just tell me.”
“I’m pretty certain this is her medical file,” he says slowly. “And it says she had high levels of GHB in her system.”
“Are you sure?” Because if Zack confirms what I just heard, I’m going to fucking murder someone. After torturing them to the highest extent. “Your answer is putting someone’s life at risk, just to be clear.”
Zack blows out a breath. “I’m 99% sure Calista Green was given a large dose of the date rape drug.”
“Send me the file,” I say, each word clipped.
“Sent. And Mr. Bennett? I’m sorry.”
Zack ends the call. It’s uncharacteristic of him to hang up on me, but he must’ve sensed my all-consuming horror. My phone chimes with a notification, and I quickly open the attachment. I need to see with my own eyes the things my mind wants to deny.
The medical record, a mere composition of black characters on a white background, stare back at me, fucking with my sanity. My heart pounds with a jagged cadence, heralding dread and something darker as page by page, her past unfolds before me. Calista drugged, bruised, and lying on the kitchen floor…
Was she sexually assaulted?
The blood drains from my face at the trajectory of my thoughts, causing bile to rise in my throat. I swallow it down and take deep breaths, forcing myself to continue. By the time I have finished reading the entire file, I am drenched in sweat, my breaths coming hard and fast.
Until I double over with the force of a pain that’s not mine.
Callie, a woman whose only desire in life is to help others, has been brutally violated. The chances she wasn’t raped are too minuscule to offer comfort.
Rage unlike anything I have ever known surges through me and colors my vision red. I grip the edge of the desk, every muscle drawn tight by the urge to commit violence. With a growl, I erupt from my seat, sending the chair crashing into the wall behind me. Loose sheets of paper flutter in the air like leaves adrift on the wind, and the legs of the desk screech against the floor as I shove it aside, causing my arms to burn from the exertion.
But it’s not enough. Not when the fury within me is a pressure that’s increasing every second, seeking an outlet only destruction will satisfy.
I whip around and seize the chair to send it flying. The piece of furniture hits the fireplace with a resounding crash, the impact creating cracks in the marble. I grab the nearest books from their shelves and hurl them into the wall. They land with a thud that barely registers as I reach for another. And another.
The wreckage continues until the room mirrors the chaos within me. Chest heaving and sweat gathering along my spine, I stand amidst the ruin, my gaze darting wildly for something else to destroy. A gentle knock on the door is followed by Calista’s voice. It’s that of an angel whereas I’m the devil personified in this moment.
“Hayden? Are you okay?”
