Glass rained like silver needles.
The world tilted sideways.
Maya couldn't scream—her lungs were still catching up with the shock.
The impact cracked her against the window, her cheek splitting open. Somewhere in the chaos, Eddie had shouted her name—then silence. The grinding sound of the car smashing into the median swallowed everything.
Smoke. Her lungs burned. Her fingers fumbled toward Eddie, numb, trembling. His head lolled, blood trailing down the side of his face. His lips were parted, pale.
"Eddie," she rasped, gripping his arm. "Stay with me, please—Eddie—"
A door opened. Someone ran.
"Vic?" she croaked.
No answer.
The footsteps faded.
He left them.
Darkness swelled in the corners of her vision. Her body was broken. Her world—shattered.
Then nothing.
"Maya—Maya, baby, come on. Open those eyes—please—"
She gasped awake, her back arching as a sharp pain shot down her side.
White lights. Machines. IV in her arm. A nurse leaning over her, but all she could hear was sobbing.
Her grandmother.
The old woman was clutching her hand, shaking uncontrollably. "There you are—oh God—I thought—" She couldn't speak through the tears.
Maya blinked, lips dry. "What happened?"
"You've been unconscious for three days," a nurse said gently. "Internal bruising. A mild concussion. Nothing life-threatening, but you gave us all a scare."
She turned. Her mother was in the corner, arms folded, red-eyed but trying to appear composed.
And her father stood near the door like a stranger waiting to be dismissed.
"Eddie?" she asked, voice breaking.
Her grandmother squeezed her hand. "He's okay, sweetheart. Broken arm. Head injury. But he's awake now. You'll see him soon."
Maya closed her eyes, tears sliding down her temples. "We almost died."
A beat passed.
Then her father cleared his throat. "Maya… Vic was there too."
Her eyes snapped open.
"He… He pulled you both out before the fire started. Someone else was driving. Vic saved you."
She stared at him. Her voice was empty. "That's not true."
Her mother stepped forward. "You were confused. You—"
"I remember." Her voice cracked like lightning. "He laughed. He swerved into the other lane on purpose. And then he ran."
No one answered.
Maya turned her head away.
"You're all lying."
Eddie's room smelled like antiseptic and strawberries.
He sat propped up in bed, one arm in a cast, gauze taped above his left eye. When she entered, he looked up—and for a second, the weight in his chest lifted.
"Maya."
She rushed to him, held him like she didn't care about the bruises or the tubes or the machines. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.
"I thought you died," he whispered.
"I thought you did," she murmured back.
They sat in silence for a long moment, hearts pounding, limbs trembling.
Then she pulled back. "They're saying Vic saved us."
His jaw locked.
"I know," he muttered. "Damon told me. He's already looking for traffic footage. Vic's name is all over the news."
"They're calling him a hero."
Eddie let out a cold laugh. "Of course they are."
"They're protecting him."
"They always do."
Tears blurred her vision. "We could've died."
"But we didn't," he said softly. "That's going to piss him off."
She cracked a smile, then leaned her forehead against his.
For the first time since the crash, she felt alive again.
Days passed. Her grandmother barely left her side. Her mother kept offering juice, blankets, awkward hugs—like she was trying to play a part she'd never rehearsed.
Maya waited for someone to say something real. No one ever did.
By the time she was discharged, her bags were packed to return to her grandmother's house.
But her father stood outside the room, keys in hand.
"I thought I'd drive you home," he said.
She frowned. "I'm going with Grandma."
"She's out of town for two days. Emergency with her sister," he lied too easily. "Come home with me. Just for now."
She hesitated.
Her mother didn't argue. That made it worse.
Maya nodded stiffly. "Fine."
The Sinclair mansion loomed like a polished tombstone in the fading afternoon light.
She stepped out of the car, gripping her duffel tight. Something itched in her bones. A memory. A warning.
Her father opened the door.
And Jackie stood inside.
Her mother behind her, smug smile untouched by guilt.
Maya froze. "What the hell is this?"
"They haven't left," her father said, walking past her.
"You said they'd be gone."
"I didn't say that."
"You let them stay?" Her voice rose like a blade. "After everything they did?"
"They're family."
"No. I'm your family." Her chest heaved. "She tried to ruin my life."
His silence gave her the answer.
Her face twisted. "Unbelievable."
"Maya…" he said quietly. "She's pregnant."
Her breath caught. "You're joking."
"She's having my child."
Maya stepped back like he slapped her. "You disgusting, pathetic man."
His eyes narrowed. "Watch it."
"Or what?" she spat. "You'll pick her over me again? Like always?"
"Don't do this."
"You don't get to tell me what to do."
She turned to Jackie's mother. "You think you won? You won't last a year in this house. He'll cheat, lie, manipulate—because that's who he is. You're not special. You're just next."
Jackie looked away.
Her father's voice dropped. "That's enough."
"I'm done."
And she walked out the front door.
She didn't get far before a sleek black car pulled up beside her.
Her mother rolled down the window.
"Get in."
Maya stared. "What, you tag-teamed with Dad now?"
Her mother exhaled. "Your grandmother asked me to take you in while she's gone. She said… you need someone."
Maya raised an eyebrow. "You?"
"Let's not do this in the street."
Maya hesitated.
Then got in.
The car ride was silent at first.
Then, slowly, her mother reached over and touched her hand. "You scared me."
"You stood there like you were watching a stranger die."
"That's not fair."
"No. What's not fair is pretending this is normal."
Her mother said nothing.
The silence deepened.
Outside the window, trees blurred past, shadows stretching long. The sky was starting to dim. A black car sat behind them.
Two cars back. Headlights dim.
Maya turned her head slightly. Watched.
Still there.
"Is someone following us?" she asked.
Her mother glanced in the mirror. "No. It's just a car."
But Maya's skin prickled.
She couldn't see the driver. Just that the car never passed, never slowed, never turned.
It stayed the same distance.
Like it knew where she was going.
Like it always had.