Page 48 of Obey

A desperate plea.

A broken gasp for more.

Sounds I made believing no one who knew me would ever hear them.

“Care to revise your statement, Sola?”

For one horrible moment, I can't reconcile the sounds coming from Nate's phone with the three men standing in front of me.

They know.

“No,” I whisper. “That's not—it isn't me.”

The recording keeps playing and I wrap my arms around myself, as if they can shield me from my own voice.

“Turn it off,” I manage as dread settles in the pit of my stomach. “Please.”

Nate’s thumb hits the screen, and silence crashes into the room. Somehow, it’s not any better.

I move for the door, but Jace throws his hand up against the glass, blocking my path. “Nope.”

“Jace—”

“Sloane, stop running for five seconds.”

I try to step around him but he mirrors the movement, intercepting once again. “Jace, get out of my way.”

“We've spent six months watching you flirt with us, challenge us, and shut down grown men in meetings like the badass you are. Did you really think we wouldn't recognize your voice?”

My face burns. “That doesn't mean you had any right to listen to it.”

“We didn't know it was you until they played it for data review, Sugar.”

“And that makes playing it back for me okay?”

Jace's expression tightens. “No. But I'm tired of watching you pretend there's nothing happening between us.”

“Can you just stop?” I yell, on the verge of hitting him. “You need to forget what you heard and stop acting crazy.”

Jace drags a hand through his curls, visibly fighting himself. “Why? You want us, we want you, and everybody keeps acting like admitting it is going to end civilization.”

Nate scrutinizes me for half a second and whatever he finds, he likes. “Interesting. You're furious we heard it. Not that you did it.”

“Fuck you, Nate.” I put several steps between them and me, searching for some way to regain control of a conversation that's spiraled completely out of my hands.

“You can tell yourself this is strictly professional, Sloane, but we both know better.” He adjusts his glasses, watching me with that clinical focus I hate. “You've been testing those boundaries just as much as we have.”

The words leave me feeling exposed in a way nudity could never touch.

I retreat another step, desperate for a little breathing room.

Elias approaches, a few strands of blond hair escaping the loose bun at the back of his head. His attention never leaves my face.

“Little Doe. Always ready to bolt.”

I back away from him, too distracted by the argument to notice how close I've gotten to the glass wall until it meets my shoulders.

Elias stops directly in front of me, bracing one hand beside my head while the other settles at my waist.