The morning Zane drove to Miles’ penthouse he was not sober, and he was no longer thinking clearly enough to pretend otherwise. Sleep had refused him entirely the night before. He had spent the dark hours pacing his apartnt and staring at the phone in his hand, his body exhausted yet unable to collapse. Hunger had followed the sa pattern. He had tried to force down food soti around midnight, but it had tasted like dust and he had pushed the plate away after two bites.
By the ti morning arrived his nerves were stretched thin enough to vibrate under his skin.
His hands rested on the steering wheel as the car moved through traffic, but his mind ran sowhere darker, sowhere far less controlled. He had called Willow again and again until the call log blurred into repetition. Twenty attempts, maybe more. Each one had ended with the sa chanical sentence that had begun to feel like a blade sliding under his ribs.
"This number is no longer in service."
He had driven past her building twice before the sun rose. The second ti he parked across the street and stayed there until the sky turned pale gray behind the rooftops. His eyes remained fixed on the entrance as if she might appear and erase the nightmare that had swallowed the last two weeks.
She never appeared.
The pressure in his chest had grown steadily worse as the morning progressed. It was not quite anger and not quite fear, but so volatile mixture of both that made breathing feel difficult. Images refused to leave him alone. He kept seeing her wrists beneath the candlelight in the restaurant, the faint discoloration across her skin that had made sothing inside him twist violently. He kept hearing her voice when she said she needed ti. He kept waking from brief monts of sleep with the certainty that sothing catastrophic had already happened and he simply had not discovered it yet.
By mid morning he could not sit still any longer. His thoughts chased each other in frantic circles. Every breath felt shallow, as though his ribs were tightening around his lungs.
Sothing inside him snapped loose.
The next thing he knew he was already driving across the city.
He did not rember the route he took. The traffic lights, the turns, the buildings sliding past his windows all blurred together in a haze of motion and adrenaline. When the car finally stopped he found himself staring at the marble façade of Miles’ luxury tower.
He did not rember parking.
He rembered only the mont he stepped into the lobby.
The marble floors reflected the overhead lighting in long pale streaks. A receptionist looked up from her desk as Zane crossed the room, his posture rigid and his expression carved into sothing tight and volatile. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw locked hard enough that the muscles beneath his skin stood out sharply.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chanical sound.
Inside the elevator the numbers climbed steadily while the air filled with the tallic taste of adrenaline at the back of his throat. Zane barely registered the rising floors. His pulse hamred so hard he could feel it in his temples.
When the doors opened onto the penthouse level he stepped out imdiately.
The hallway stretched ahead in quiet luxury, soft carpet underfoot and polished walls reflecting the muted lighting. Zane walked down it with the singular focus of a man who had nothing left to lose.
His fist struck the door once.
The knock echoed through the corridor.
Miles opened the door halfway through the sound, irritation already forming across his expression as he pulled it wider. The confusion in his eyes lasted less than a second.
Zane grabbed him by the shirtfront and slamd him against the wall.
The impact rattled the hallway. A frad photograph slid off the console table beside them and shattered on the marble floor. Glass scattered across the tiles while Miles gasped sharply, the air leaving his lungs in a startled rush.
"Zane, what the hell—"
Zane punched him.
The movent was not wild or uncontrolled. The blow landed with frightening precision across Miles’ jaw. His head snapped sideways and the skin along his cheek split instantly beneath the force. Blood pooled beneath his tongue as he staggered.
Before he could fall, Zane seized him again and dragged him upright with a violent jerk. Miles’ shirt twisted in Zane’s fist, the collar tightening across his throat as his back hit the wall again.
"You did this," Zane said.
His voice was low and rough, vibrating with sothing deeper than anger.
Miles blinked through the dizziness, trying to steady himself.
"What are you talking about—"
Zane punched him.
The blow cracked across Miles’ jaw with brutal precision. His head snapped sideways and he staggered, blood imdiately flooding his mouth. Before he could collapse, Zane grabbed him again and slamd him back against the wall.
"You created this misery," Zane said, his breath unsteady but controlled. "You lied to her. I helped you lie. We destroyed her life."
His jaw tightened painfully as the words forced themselves out.
"I could have fixed it. I could have helped you undo the damage. I would have stood beside you when you told her the truth."
The words slowed under the weight of mory.
"But then you put your hands on her. You grabbed her. You left marks on her."
Miles froze completely. The accusation landed harder than the punches. His pupils shrank and his breath caught in his throat as Zane watched recognition spread across his face, and sothing inside Zane ruptured.
He shoved Miles hard enough that the back of his head struck the wall.
"Don’t lie to ," Zane said, his voice vibrating with restrained violence. "I saw the bruises."
Miles swallowed through the blood pooling in his mouth.
"I didn’t an to hurt her," he said hoarsely. "She triggered sothing in that night. I wasn’t thinking. I lost control. But I didn’t—"
Zane drove his fist into his ribs.
The punch landed with surgical precision beneath the sternum. Miles folded instantly, clutching his side as a broken groan escaped him. Zane grabbed him again before he could collapse.
"What did you do."
Miles wheezed, fighting for air.
"I tried to kiss her," he rasped. "She said no. I didn’t listen. I know how it looks. I know I crossed a line. I know I—"
Zane hit him again.
The second strike slamd into his ribs and forced him sideways against the wall. Pain exploded through his chest as he struggled to breathe.
"You didn’t cross a line," Zane said, his voice shaking with raw fury. "You terrified her."
Miles squeezed his eyes shut.
"I know."
Zane struck him again.
Another punch followed, then another. The blows were not wild and not uncontrolled. Each one landed with deliberate force, the violence of a man who had held himself together for far too long. The hallway echoed with the dull thud of impact and Miles’ strained breathing as he tried to stay upright while blood streaked down his chin.
Still Zane held him there.
"And now she’s gone."
Miles’ eyes snapped open.
"What do you an gone."
Zane stepped back half a pace but remained close enough that Miles could still feel the heat of his anger.
"She quit her job. She left her apartnt. She changed her number."
His voice cracked slightly before the final words ca out.
"She disappeared."
Miles stared at him as shock drained the color from his face.
"Zane, I swear I haven’t seen her," he said quickly. "I haven’t heard from her. She hasn’t co here. She hasn’t—"
Zane cut him off.
"And she’s now with Victor," he said through clenched teeth. "She’s having his baby."
The words drained the last color from Miles’ face. His mouth opened but no sound ca out as one hand lifted weakly, as though he could physically push the statent away.
"Victor... Soren?" he whispered.
The na scraped across his tongue like gravel.
Zane watched him for a long mont, his jaw tightening until it hurt. Miles braced a hand against the wall, breathing hard.
"That’s not possible," he said quietly. "She wouldn’t do that. Not with him."
"We lost the right to question her choices," Zane said.
The anger in his voice had cooled into sothing heavier.
"We forfeited every piece of her the mont we lied in that hospital bed."
Miles looked up at him, disbelief and regret colliding across his face.
"Zane... I didn’t know she was pregnant."
"And we don’t even know if it’s true," Zane snapped. "Maybe Victor lied. Maybe I’m the idiot. Maybe she didn’t want either of us to know."
His chest rose sharply as he forced the words out.
"But she left, and that’s on us."
Silence filled the hallway as the truth hung between them, heavy and undeniable. Their lies, their manipulation, and the mont Miles had lost control had pushed Willow into a corner she escaped by running straight into the arms of soone else.
Zane turned toward the door.
His hand closed around the handle. The tal felt cold beneath his palm as he stood there for a mont, forcing his breathing back under control.
"Stay away from until I find her."
He pulled the door open.
"And Miles, if you co near her again, I won’t stop at a few punches."
The door slamd behind him with a crack that rattled the fras on the wall.
Miles remained standing for several seconds before the strength drained from his legs. He slid slowly down the wall until he hit the marble floor. Blood dripped from his jaw while his ribs throbbed with every breath he tried to draw.
The penthouse around him suddenly felt enormous. The high ceilings and open rooms stretched away from him, amplifying the silence until it felt hollow.
Miles wiped the blood from his mouth and tried to steady his breathing while fragnts of the confrontation replayed in his mind. He kept seeing the bruises on Willow’s wrists, rembering the lies they had told in the hospital, hearing Victor’s na spoken like a final verdict, and confronting the possibility of her pregnancy along with the brutal certainty that she had disappeared from both of their lives.
He stared at the marble floor as the truth settled slowly into place.
Willow was gone, and one man had just walked out drowning in grief while the other remained on the floor of his own penthouse choking on regret and the realization that their lies had driven her straight into another man’s arms.
Miles remained there long after the hallway had gone completely still. The pain in his ribs pulsed with every breath, but it barely registered compared to the pressure building in his chest. He pressed the back of his head against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to steady the spinning in his thoughts.
For days he had convinced himself the damage could still be repaired. He had imagined finding the right mont, the right apology, and the right explanation that might convince Willow he was not the man she had seen that night. He had believed ti might soften what had happened.
Now the illusion felt almost pathetic.
Their lies had cornered her, his hands had terrified her, and she had done the only thing left to her.
She had run.
Miles dragged a shaky breath into his lungs and opened his eyes again, staring at the empty hallway where Zane had stood only minutes earlier. The anger that had fueled the confrontation drained away, leaving sothing far worse behind as a quiet and unbearable certainty settled over him.
If Willow truly belonged to another man’s life now, then the two n who had once claid to protect her had beco the reason she disappeared.
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