Chapter 50 50
FREYA POV
I moved with a quiet urgency, my heart hammering against my ribs as I left the training wing behind. This was a gamble, but it was also an opportunity as well and it’s too perfect to ignore. I walked straight to Steve’s room, my eyes scanning the hallway to ensure Nana or the other staff members were occupied elsewhere. When I reached his door, I hesitated for only a second before twisting the handle. It was unlocked.
I slipped inside and closed the door softly behind me. A small smile touched my lips, and I muttered a silent prayer of thanks that my plan hadn’t been ruined by a simple locked latch. I stood still for a moment, taking in the interior. I had been in this room before, but I hadn’t had the time to examine it closely then.
My eyes briefly drifted toward the door where Steve had touched me—the way he had pinned me against it. I felt heat rise in my cheeks as the memory of his touch threatened to distract me, but thankfully, I managed to snap myself back into focus. I was not here for romance.
“Steve’s phone,” I muttered, my eyes scanning the nightstand and the desk. My heart sank. It wasn’t here. He must have kept it on him, even during the training session.
Determined not to leave empty-handed, I turned my attention to the dresser. I opened the top drawer, and a sudden, cold flash of memory from my dream washed over me. This was the exact same drawer I had pulled open in my nightmare—the one where I had found the horrifying photograph of Mark, dead.
My breath hitched and my hands began to tremble as I reached inside. I half-expected to see that haunting image staring back at me, but my fingers met the texture of paper instead. I pulled it out to find a thick, brown envelope. It was heavy, sealed with a metal clasp.
“Looks like something interesting.”
I picked it up, my pulse racing as I fumbled with the fastener. I just wanted to know what he was keeping—what "show" he was preparing for me to watch. But just as I began to pull the flap open, the heavy silence of the room was shattered.
The door handle twisted.
My breath caught; fear surged through me. Steve is back.
I felt paralyzed, unable to think of a plan instantly. I just waited for the door to open, bracing myself for the worst. My heart felt like it was going to burst through my ribs, but the handle didn't turn immediately. There was a momentary pause, a heavy silence from the other side, and that gave me the frantic energy to look around the room in a blind panic.
I managed to hide behind the heavy floor-to-ceiling curtains near the window. It wasn’t a perfect spot, but I had to hold my breath. Barely five seconds later, Steve finally walked in. Thankfully, he didn’t look around; he moved with a focused, weary energy. Through the gap in my hiding spot, I watched him begin to pull off his clothes. My throat went dry, and I swallowed hard at the sight of him. He was all hard lines and powerful muscle—a physical reminder of the man who had claimed me at the cottage. As he stripped further, my eyes betraying my fear, I caught sight of him, and I swallowed hard again. I felt a sudden, traitorous heat bloom in my chest, and my nipples grew hard against the fabric of my jumpsuit. I cursed myself, hating that my body could respond to him even in this situation.
“Freya, you are unbelievable. Get your damn body under control,” I screamed internally.
Steve didn't linger. He turned and entered the bathroom, the sound of the door clicking shut followed quickly by the rush of the shower.
I knew this was my moment. I needed to use this opportunity to run out and disappear before he finished, but I looked down and realized the envelope was still clutched in my hand. I hadn't even checked what was inside yet.
"It might be a risk taking it with me," I whispered, my hands shaking.
"He might not notice it's gone," my mind debated, the internal conflict tearing at me. I couldn't decide whether to flee with it or put it back and pretend I was never there.
Then, as I moved toward the door, I caught a glimpse of something that made my heart stop. Steve’s phone was sitting right there on the nightstand.
The shower was still running, “I still have a quick chance” and that was the only reason my legs finally moved toward the bed. I knew it was risky, but I had a few seconds left to be a thief. I stepped toward the nightstand, my heart knocking so hard against my ribs it actually hurt.
I grabbed the phone. I didn't think; I just swiped. It wasn't even locked. I went straight for the messages, my eyes blurring as I hunted for the one I had missed last time. My thumb shook against the glass until I found it.
"There's a problem, Boss. Mark stabbed Lila. Please, we need you around."
“Jesus”
Stabbed who? Which Mark? The same Lila? Why?
I couldn't believe what I had just read. The shock made my hands go completely numb. The phone slipped away and hit the rug with a dull thud. I stared down at it, my brain trying to process the idea of blood on Mark’s hands, but I didn't even have time to breathe.
The water stopped.
The bathroom door swung open and Steve stepped out. He was completely naked, water still dripping off his shoulders and draining down his chest onto the floor. He froze. His eyes went from the phone on the carpet straight to my face.
The air in the room died. I was standing there, caught red-handed, while he stood there dripping.