Aaron followed her. Fear gnawed at him from the moment he realized it had to be Brandon. Deep down, he knew something was wrong, but he kept it to himself, wanting to shield her from the truth, from the danger. He never wanted Natalia to take risks, to get caught up in something so dark. He tried to protect her in the only way he knew—by keeping her in the dark.
But when he called her, over and over, and she didn't answer, his anxiety skyrocketed. Something wasn't right. He checked her office, hoping she'd be buried in work or lost in one of her deadlines. But she wasn't there. It was as if she had vanished. Panic set in, a creeping dread that twisted in his gut. Every instinct told him she was heading into something dangerous, something he should have prevented.
Desperate times called for desperate measures, so he did what he had to—he hacked into her devices. He searched for anything, some clue, but there was nothing significant, no messages or location pings that explained her silence. Yet, he still couldn't reach her. The gnawing sense of dread only deepened. He had no choice but to track her down.
He managed to trace her location and, without thinking twice, he followed her. His heart sank when he finally spotted her car on the road. She was driving recklessly, swerving between lanes as if she had lost control. He didn't recognize her at first, but he knew the car, and the license plate was unmistakable. A chill crept up his spine. Why was she driving like this? What was going on?
Fear clawed at him as he followed her, trying to keep up. The recklessness in her driving scared him, and all he could think of was protecting her, pulling her back from whatever edge she was teetering on. But the more he tried to stay close, the more erratic she became, pushing the car faster, cutting sharp corners like she didn't care about the danger. It was like watching someone spiraling out of control, and he couldn't figure out why.
Then, out of nowhere, she veered off the main road and headed toward an abandoned warehouse. He slowed down, keeping his distance, his pulse pounding in his ears. Something was terribly wrong, but he still didn't have a full picture of what she was doing or why.
Just as he tried to get closer, her car jerked forward unexpectedly. Her driving was wild, unpredictable. And then, in an instant, it all went wrong—her car flipped, and time seemed to freeze. The screech of metal against the ground, the deafening sound of impact, and then... boom.
The tragic accident unfolding right before his eyes scared the hell out of him. His heart pounded in his chest as he jumped out of his car, adrenaline surging through him. He sprinted toward her wrecked vehicle, panic tightening its grip with every step. This wasn't how it was supposed to go—this wasn't what he wanted for her. He didn't want her hurt, trapped in this nightmare.
When he reached the car, he found her—bruised, bleeding, and barely conscious. She was fighting, clinging on to the last thread of hope to survive, but her strength was fading fast. His breath caught in his throat as he tried everything he could to get her out. The heat from the wreckage, the smell of smoke—it was all closing in, but he couldn't leave her. He wouldn't.
He pulled her from the crumpled wreck, her body limp and fragile as she collapsed into his arms. Her head lolled against his chest, and her eyes flickered, struggling to stay open. He could feel her slipping away, and the fear that gripped him was unlike anything he had ever known. His arms wrapped protectively around her, trying to shield her from whatever danger still lurked in the shadows of the accident.
He carried her, his legs trembling with the weight of fear. Time was slipping away, and with each passing second, Natalia's life hung in the balance. He moved as quickly as he dared, cradling her fragile form as he guided her into the passenger seat. Every movement was deliberate, every second stretched thin by the weight of what was at stake. He fastened the seatbelt across her battered body, his hands shaking as he tried to keep the buckle steady. Blood trailed down her forehead, carving crimson lines across her pale skin, and her breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps—each one a painful reminder of how close he was to losing her.
He rushed around to the driver's side, fumbling with the keys before finally turning the ignition. The engine roared to life, echoing the thundering beat of his heart. He gripped the wheel with white-knuckled intensity and pulled away from the scene, tires screeching against the pavement. His eyes darted between the road and her fragile form slumped in the seat beside him, the rise and fall of her chest a fragile thread tying her to this world.
The drive was a maddening paradox—a torturous crawl through fleeting seconds, each heartbeat echoing like a drumbeat in his chest. Time twisted and warped with every frantic turn of the wheel. He kept glancing at her—slumped against the seat, her face ashen, her breaths shallow and uneven. "Just hold on, Natalia," he whispered, as if his words could tether her to life. His grip on the wheel was so tight it felt as if his bones might crack, but he couldn't let go. He couldn't let her slip away—not like this. Not after everything they'd been through.
The cityscape blurred into streaks of light and color, an indistinct whirl of neon signs, glowing street lights, and speeding vehicles. The chaos around him barely registered. Red lights flashed, horns blared angrily, and pedestrians shouted as he cut through traffic with reckless abandon. Tires screeched against asphalt, but he didn't care. He couldn't afford to. All that mattered was getting her to help before it was too late.
He forced his focus back to the road, dodging cars with adrenaline-fueled precision. Every second felt like a battle against time, every delay a ache twisting deeper into his chest. The desperation gnawed at him, pushing him forward.