CHAPTER 9

Watching the one...

Nathaniel POV

I sat silently in my car, parked just across the street from the restaurant. I watched her walk out, seemingly unaware that she was being observed. Jade. She looked normal—like nothing ever happened. No guilt. No fear. Jesse told me exactly where she was, and I wasted no time driving over.

She passed the front of my vehicle, completely oblivious to the eyes glued to her every step. She hailed a taxi. I started my engine and followed at a careful distance. I already knew where she was headed. I was the reason she was being called to the police station. Jesse filed the report on my behalf.

She got out of the taxi in front of the station. Her movements slowed. She hesitated as if gathering courage. Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, cut the call without answering, then pushed through the doors.

I watched. And waited.

A storm was coming.

---

Jade POV

As soon as I got the call from the station, my heart began to pound. I tried to calm myself, telling myself it was probably a mistake, a misunderstanding. William told me it was nothing—that the road was slippery, that it was just a barrel.

But something inside me said otherwise.

William called as I arrived at the station, but I ended the call. I needed to face this alone. I walked in, trying to keep my expression neutral. But the moment I sat down across from the officer, my composure started to slip.

"Miss Shipman," he began, raising his brows, "do you really think your story makes sense?"

I swallowed hard. "It’s true. I didn’t know."

He leaned forward, his voice laced with disbelief. "How does someone who doesn’t know anything get the car completely fixed the very next day? Not at a certified center, mind you. Secretly. Doesn’t that seem odd?"

I clenched my fists under the table. "That’s because… I asked someone I knew. To help fix it cheaper."

He scoffed. "Cheaper? You’re sticking with that? Blood was found in that car."

Blood? I froze.

"No. That can’t be. I—I didn’t hit anyone. There was no one there."

"There wasn’t?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "No one saw anything?"

"It was raining, the road was slippery. A truck popped up and… my car slipped. I hit a barrel at the construction site. I even got out to check."

Almost slipped. I nearly mentioned William. But I caught myself.

"I moved the barrel to the side of the road because I thought it might be dangerous. Please, check again."

The officer stared at me. Then, with a flick of his hand, he pulled out a photo from a file. A woman. Bloodied. Lifeless.

I gasped.

"You think just insisting you didn’t know will help you? This was a person. June. Twenty-two years old. Found three hours after the crash."

His words landed like gunshots.

"And," he added with cold detachment, "she was pregnant."

The room spun. My breath hitched.

"What?" I whispered.

He leaned back in his seat. "We have medical records from that same day. She was at the hospital earlier."

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. Pregnant. A young woman. Gone. Because of me?

But… no. William said it was nothing.

I was allowed to leave the station after they said they’d call me later. My head was spinning. I couldn’t go far. I sank down on the cold stone steps outside the station and buried my face in my hands.

Pregnant. She was pregnant.

What the hell happened that night? I trusted William. But this?

I rocked back and forth on the step, trying to collect myself. When I finally stood, ready to leave, I bumped into someone. Hard.

He looked familiar. Tall. Dark. Angry. His black hair was tousled like he’d been running his hands through it nonstop. His eyes… red-rimmed, hollow with something fierce and dangerous beneath them.

"You..." he growled. "Substitute driver?"

I froze.

"You think you can hit and run?"

I took a step back. "I—I’m sorry."

He blocked my path, his eyes locked on mine. "Sorry?" He grabbed my arm. His grip was iron.

"I really didn’t know. I swear."

His voice was low, almost calm—too calm. "If you’re sorry, then show it. Wear it on your face."

I yanked my arm free, but he didn’t move.

"I think this is about the ring," I stammered. "You gave me that expensive ring... I didn’t mean to keep it—"

He stepped closer. Closer still. I backed away, but the wall came up behind me.

"I don’t have time for this," I said, trying to brush past him.

He shoved me back.

My heart raced. I tried again. He shoved me harder.

I screamed. People nearby glanced at us but didn’t intervene.

Left shoulder. Right shoulder. His hands struck me again, not with punches, but with enough force to make me stumble.

"Please—stop!" I cried out.

He grabbed my neck. I choked.

Air. I needed air.

His hand squeezed. My lungs screamed. I couldn’t fight. My fingers clawed at his, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

"You dare…" he hissed. "You dare touch something that belongs to me?"

What is he talking about? The girl… was she—

Tears poured from my eyes. Black spots danced in my vision. My legs trembled.

Then, suddenly, he loosened his grip. I collapsed, coughing, gasping, my hands on my neck. I looked up at him, terrified. What kind of man is this?

I tried to run again.

Wrong move.

He grabbed my shoulder again and raised his fist. I flinched, screamed—thinking he’d strike me.

But the punch landed on the wall. Hard. Cracks split the plaster. Blood trickled down his knuckles.

"I lost something I loved," he said. His voice broke, just for a second. "Do you think that’s something you can just say ‘sorry’ for?"

I stared at him. My body was trembling. He stepped forward again, and I backed up, pressing myself into the wall.

Then—

"HEY! What’s going on here?!"

Three cops came running, their voices slicing through the tension. One of them grabbed him, forcing him back. Another stepped between us. I felt like collapsing. My breath was ragged. My body bruised. My soul shaken.

Nathaniel. His name came back to me. That’s who he was.

He kept his furious gaze on me. His chest heaved. Blood covered his right hand.

"You!" he shouted, struggling against the officer. "I’m not done with you!"

They held him back.

"Let me go! That bitch killed her! She killed June!" he bellowed, his voice cracking like a whip. "I’ll be seeing you again, substitute driver."

They dragged him away as I stood, frozen. My legs weak. My arms trembling.

I bent to grab my bag with unsteady hands when someone else stepped toward me. A man. Younger. Clean cut. He looked familiar.

"I’m sorry," he said quietly, glancing toward where Nathaniel had been taken.

"For his actions."

Then he left.

---

I stood there, staring at nothing.

What the hell did I just go through?

What kind of storm have I walked into?

What did William hide from me?

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I staggered away from the station.

"I'm sorry, June," I whispered into the wind.

"I'm so, so sorry."