Wicked Truths (Hunt Legacy Duology #2) - Jodi Ellen Malpas Page 0,150

to find Mrs Potts by my side, her face serious. I cough on a despairing cry, finding Becker again. His face is straight, accepting, and he’s looking at me, his eyes clear.

‘No,’ I sob, shaking my head, a few tears escaping as I tremble in Mrs Potts’s arms. Becker holds me in place with his serious stare, his head shaking, his jaw tight. He’s telling me to keep it together, and I haven’t got the first idea how.

Price produces a set of cuffs, and Becker starts to turn away from him, his angel eyes remaining on mine until he has no choice but to break the contact. His granddad looks up at him and nods, short and sharp, and I go limp in Mrs Potts’s hold. No one’s breathing a word. Becker’s cooperating and looks prepared to go silently and willingly. So why the cuffs? I want to scream my devastation and throw myself in front of him to protect him, but Mrs Potts has a firm hold of me, like she knows I’m a flight risk.

Price makes quick work of securing Becker’s hands behind his back, before taking his elbow and starting to lead him from the room. Becker looks straight ahead, his chin high, his body tall and strong. The urge to cry out, to dive on him as he passes and tell him I love him, that I always will, nearly gets the better of me.

But I don’t need to. He forces Price to a stop when he reaches me, and he looks into my watery eyes and smiles. He fucking smiles, and I have no idea why. They’re going to lock him away forever! The only time I’ll ever see him will be behind bars. He’ll be dressed from head to toe in prison clothes. He’ll never be able to violate me in the most delicious ways imaginable again. I’ll never be able to touch him. To have naked cuddles. He won’t ever be able to slap my arse. I realise some of these thoughts are mindless and inappropriate, but I’m spiralling quickly into meltdown. What will I do without him?

He studies me for a moment, holding me still with those lazy eyes, resisting the pull of Price when he tries to tug him on. ‘I’m in love with you.’ He nods as he speaks, reinforcing his words, and I whimper, the tears pouring down my cheeks as Price pulls him away from me.

‘No,’ I sob, reaching for him, feeling Mrs Potts holding me back as Becker casts a look over his shoulder.

His face is serious and beautiful, his eyes bright and sure behind his glasses. ‘Don’t find your way out of my maze just yet, princess,’ he orders, his voice steady and strong. ‘We’re not done.’ He disappears out of the door, and I crumble in Mrs Potts’s arms, sobbing like I’ve never sobbed before.

Chapter 37

The ripe, green apple sitting on the huge replica of the Theodore Roosevelt double pedestal desk looks virtuous. Harmless. It looks deliciously temping and mouth-watering. It’s holding my attention like a hawk would watch a rabbit as it circles the open sky above. I can’t take my eyes off it. I don’t want to take my eyes off it. For then I will have to return to the desolation that’s kept me prisoner in its wicked grip these past twenty-four hours. Staring at this apple, simple as it seems, crazy as it is, has been my only few minutes of respite from the cold harshness of my outlandish reality since Becker was cuffed and escorted from the hospital. My eyes are nailed to the shiny, almost sparkling skin. I haven’t blinked and my mind is doing a remarkable job of blanking out my overactive imagination.

Overactive? No. Every dreaded, awful thought that’s plagued me in the past twenty-four hours has been completely warranted. There’s nothing dramatic or over-the-top about a single one of my fears. My imagination isn’t running away with me. I’m not being irrational. I’m not imagining the sick feeling deep in my tummy. My anxiety isn’t groundless.

My heart is quickly ricocheting off my breastbone again, a light sheen of sweat forming, my breathing stuttering. I force my lips to pucker in an attempt to limit the air that’s billowing from my mouth too quickly, hoping to regain a safe level of breathing before I go dizzy. My plan has the opposite effect, and I literally feel every drop of blood drain from my head, sending me light-headed. I’m