CHAPTER 7
461 Words
The rain had started to fall as Darrell pulled out of the underground garage, city lights gleaming off the slick pavement. Chloe had texted an hour earlier:
“Dinner’s ready. Don’t keep me waiting, West.”
He smiled at the screen, picturing her in his shirt, barefoot in their apartment, lighting candles just to mess with him.
For a moment, everything felt safe. Settled.
Then the world exploded.
A black SUV appeared from nowhere, ramming hard into the passenger side of his car. The impact sent his vehicle spinning. He barely had time to register the hit before the tires lost traction, and the car flipped, once, then twice, crashing hard onto its roof.
The sound of crunching metal, the airbag exploding, and glass shattering, it was all a blur.
Darrell hung upside down, groaning, blood sliding down his temple as sirens began to scream in the distance.
But he was alive.
And that was enough… for now.
Two hours later, Darrell sat upright in a private hospital suite, bruised and bandaged, refusing to be admitted overnight. A gash above his brow had been stitched, and his ribs ached with every breath. But he didn’t care about that.
He wanted answers.
Ethan entered the room, sharp as ever in a dark trench coat, holding a tablet.
“The car was a rental,” he said calmly. “Fake ID. No security cams at the point of impact. Whoever hit you knew the blind spots.”
Darrell’s jaw tightened. “So it wasn’t random.”
“No. It was precise,” Ethan replied, unbothered by the tension in the room. “There’s no trail, yet. But give me a day or two. I’ll find the source.”
Darrell stared ahead, fists clenched.
Ethan continued, eyes direct. “You want me to notify Ms. Bennett?”
“No,” Darrell said sharply. “She doesn’t know anything. Let’s keep it that way.”
Ethan nodded once. “Understood.”
No questions. No hesitations.
That night, long after Ethan left, Darrell sat in silence, a photo of Chloe open on his phone. She’d taken it a week ago, a soft smile, paint on her cheek, no idea how much danger she might be in.
He felt his throat close.
He thought back to the truck that almost hit him a week ago. The stalking feeling in his chest. The silence from people who used to fight him out loud.
They weren’t coming after his business anymore.
They were coming after him.
And if they ever knew about her... if they found out what she meant to him...
He couldn’t risk it.
He couldn’t lose her.
Even if that meant letting her go first.
He whispered the words to the dark:
“I’m sorry.”
- Writer
