Chapter 81: Someone I Care About
LEONARDO ANNISON
The car door slammed shut behind us, sealing us in silence. The only sound was Oliver’s ragged breathing beside me, his fingers still tangled with mine like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go.
I wasn’t sure which one of us was holding on tighter.
Charles slid into the driver’s seat without a word, the engine roaring to life. The Belmont mansion burned in the rearview mirror, flames licking at the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the scattering crowd. Sirens wailed in the distance, but we’d be long gone before they arrived.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my grip on Oliver’s hand to loosen. It was a mistake—touching him, letting him in, wanting him here. I’d known that from the moment I saw him across the ballroom, that infuriating smirk on his lips like he already knew every secret I’d ever tried to keep.
And now, because of me, someone had tried to kill him.
Oliver coughed, rubbing at his throat where that bastard had pressed his forearm. A bruise was already forming, dark against his skin. My jaw clenched.
Oliver turned toward me, his knee bumping against mine in the cramped backseat. "That guy wasn’t just some random psycho. He knew your name. He knew mine. And he seemed real convinced I was using you." His eyes narrowed. "Which, for the record, is ridiculous. If I wanted to manipulate someone, I’d pick a guy who actually talks instead of brooding."
I should’ve been annoyed. Instead, something dangerously close to amusement flickered in my chest.
Charles snorted. "He’s got a point."
I shot him a glare before turning back to Oliver. "It doesn’t matter who he was. What matters is that he’s not the only one looking for you."