The End of Us (Love in Isolation 3)

I turn around, not seeing my parents or sister, knowing that Kendall’s reception is in utter chaos and it’s all my fault.

“What are we doing?” I ask as he keeps a firm grip on me.

“We need to leave immediately,” he grits out, escorting me to a car parked in the front. There’s a driver inside, and I wonder if Tristan had an escape plan just in case. I climb in, and he’s beside me with his gun in hand.

“To my hotel, then her apartment,” he demands, and we head toward the city.

“How’d he find me?” My wrists hurt from how hard I was grabbed.

I unlock my phone, and Tristan turns to me.

“Jack tracked you through that.” He glares at it. “The fact that he got into the venue shows he’s smarter than any of us realized, especially with the added security.”

“I know. It was frightening. Can I call my parents?”

“They know I have you and that we’re getting out of New York. He’s hacked his way inside your device, and I don’t know what information he’s gotten.”

He grabs my cell and holds it in his firm grip.

I glare at him. “I can’t be without my phone.”

“I’ll get you a burner.”

“What’s that?”

“A replacement, one he doesn’t know about.”

I’m trying not to cry, feeling so vulnerable and exposed to an obsessed fan turned maniac. No telling what pictures, videos, and messages of mine he’s seen, and the fact that Jack tracked my location is even scarier.

“Can I at least pack my things?” I ask, realizing he just said we’re leaving New York.

“You’ll have fifteen minutes when we get to your apartment, and that’s it. Bring enough to keep you dressed while we’re in hiding.”

Hiding? I try not to freak out and suck in deep breaths to help me calm down, but it doesn’t work. My phone buzzes, and Tristan looks down at it. There’s a preview from Kendall.

“You can reply to your sister, just this once, but don’t give her any specifics,” he says, handing it over.

I unlock it and hurry and read what she sent.

Kendall: Mom and Dad told me what happened. Please tell me you’re safe.

I immediately reply.

Piper: I’m with Tristan. I have to be careful what I say until I get a burner phone, but we’re going into hiding. I’ll be safe with him and will text you as soon as I can. I’m so sorry this happened on your special night. I love you guys!

Kendall: It’s not your fault. I love you too! Text me and keep me updated when you’re able to, please!

Relief floods through me, knowing she’s not mad. She’s waited her whole life for this wedding.

Piper: I will. Plus, it might not be so bad being locked up with my hot bodyguard ;)

Kendall: Don’t say I didn’t warn you before...don’t get involved!

Piper: You’re no fun!

Kendall: Love you, sis. Please stay safe.

Tristan takes my phone before I can say anything else and turns it off.

“What the hell? I didn’t get to tell my sister I love her back.”

His green eyes meet mine. “She knows. We can’t risk anything else.”

I swallow hard, pissed. I don’t say a word the rest of the way.

We stop at the hotel where Tristan has been staying while working for my parents. It’s two blocks away from my apartment.

Before he gets out, he turns to me. “Stay inside this car. I’ll be right back.”

He rushes inside, and I take a quick moment to let my emotions out. The driver doesn’t make eye contact and pretends I’m invisible. The tears fall because I feel helpless. Running for my life wasn’t on my list of things to do today.

Tristan returns carrying a black duffel bag. He searches up and down the sidewalk before he opens the door, then we drive a few blocks over.

When we finally make it to my apartment, the place is surrounded by paparazzi.

“Fuck,” Tristan groans, and this time, I agree with his sentiments. While I usually don’t mind the photographers and use the paps as much as they use me, I could live without them right now. “Make it ten minutes,” Tristan mutters as he swings open the door. He forces his way through the crowd, guiding me up the stoop of my building. The flashes are blinding, and handfuls of people are screaming my name. It’s too much as I’m internally panicking.

Before he lets me in, Tristan checks every room with his gun drawn. My mind races a million miles per minute as I grab all of my vlogging gear, laptop, memory cards, and chargers. In the distance, Tristan’s talking on the phone to someone. When he gives me a five-minute warning, I let out an annoyed breath. Knowing I need clothes, I grab random things from my closet and dresser drawers along with my travel cosmetic bag.

“We gotta get going,” Tristan snaps, entering my bedroom just as I zip my suitcase. He lifts it along with my backpack. I take one last look at my apartment, then we lock up. In that short amount of time, the paps have doubled.