Page 57 of Letting Go

I start to turn around and he makes a quick lunge and grabs my upper arm. I wrestle with him for a moment, shake him off and step back.

"I'm calling the police." When I hear the words come from my mouth, I don’t believe myself either.

He just laughs. "And tell them what? A man in a suit is chatting you up? Honestly, Chloe, I'm just here to talk to you."

"I'm not hiding anymore."

"That's clear," he says.

"I want my life back."

"Your life is at Everlast."

My heart starts to pound. This is just PTSD. I know it. Total physical reaction. I am not scared of him at all, but my body vibrates. I reach out toward Triss, another high schooler on the floor. "Triss, get Finn, please. Now. Emergency."

Reed lifts a hand. "Let's not get dramatic, Chloe. There's no need to cause a scene. The Lord is calling you to motherhood. You must return to fulfill your duties."

Triss is standing like a statue staring at Reed.

"Triss! Now." I snap my fingers.

She startles and bolts from the dining room.

"You have a calling." His voice seeps into my bones.

"No, I don’t, and you are stalking me, which is a crime. Back off."

"You signed a contract. Remember?" His voice drops even further.

As if drugged, I take two steps closer and then stop. "I did not intend to become an indentured slave."

"You clearly stated you will not charge Everlast or any of its leaders with crimes when it is clear that their movements are to your benefit and well- being."

"Why are you here?"

"To bring you back."

"I'm not going back."

"That is not in your best interest. We promised you. No, I promised you I'd always catch you when you fell. You've fallen, my angel. We need to rehabilitate you."

I feel numb. Rooted to the floor, then Finn slides up beside me.

"Outside immediately." I can’t see him, but his words are clipped.

Reed smiles. "I've done nothing reproachable—just seeing an old friend. A partner, really."

Finn folds his arms across his chest. "Reed Clifton, I am the owner. You have sixty seconds to vacate the premises."

Reed's mouth becomes a thin wire of white. He snorts through his nose and snaps the lapels to his suit jacket. "I—How…"

"Forty-five seconds left."

I don't know if Finn is really counting the seconds, but Reed throws down his napkin and after tossing me a dark glance, walks out of the room, the one other busy table too busy with a five-year-old's birthday to notice.

I want to sit down but not in the chair Reed just vacated.

"That felt pretty good," said Finn and then glanced at me. "Let's get you out of here," he says and led me back to the kitchen where he wanted to set me on a stool.