32 | I Think It Is Too

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Recommended song: Liability By Drake

Noa's Pov

I felt entirely consumed by guilt—hating that I had sent her away like that.

It just felt like my only option at the moment.

Her even having knowledge about my parents threw me for a loop, and my only instinct was to tell her to leave.

It was what I was used to doing.

But God did it feel so abnormal to do it to her.

I'm realizing now that Vincent was the only person who could've told her, which left me feeling slightly confused.

He has no recollection of us.

So I can only assume that she was asking about me from the start.

And while the fact that she was asking around about my past bothered me, it also made my internal thoughts scream at me.

She was only worried about you.

I let out a deep breath, feeling so fucked up for how I treated her.

And even if my ego was screaming at me not to—I couldn't stop myself from exiting my office to head toward her room.

I wasn't quite sure what I'd say.

Sorry wasn't a word in my vocabulary.

But I'd surely make it one if that's what it took.

My brows furrowed upon knocking on her door, realizing there was only silence on the other end of the door.

I didn't hesitate to turn the knob, instructing my men to stay put.

The last thing I need is for her to be getting out of the shower and my men witnessing such a sight.

Then I'll have two men to bury and new job positions to fill.

I looked around the empty room, taking in her made bed and her phone on the nightstand.

Something is definitely not right.

I backed out of the room, determining she might just be with Vincent or that one brunette.

But I couldn't lie and say that my heart wasn't pounding in my chest.

It made traumatic memories resurface—recalling the specific feelings.

How my heart raced as I waited in the hospital lobby with my father, hoping that my mom would be okay.

And how it raced all over again as I did the same thing—except this time I was all alone in the lobby, signing off on papers that declared I was becoming the temporary leader of the Saints.

"Vincent," I called out, laying eyes on the man who seemed to be talking frantically to some of the men.

Vincent turned around, "Noa right now is not a good time—"

"Have you seen Lunden?" I asked, not even bothering to be subtle about it.

I was hoping that this was all a misunderstanding—that she'd pop out of nowhere with an attitude and a request for an apology at my expense.

God, I would willingly get on my knees and apologize to her if that's what it took for her to show up right now.

Vincent's brows furrowed, looking around frantically, which easily made my head tilt.

He knows something.

"Vincent, what's going on?" I questioned, taking a step toward him.

The man blinked a few times, clearly piecing something together in his own head, "Well, for starters, Arya was missing this morning... and if Lunden can't be found either then—"

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