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“Van-dina?” l give him a questioning look.

He laughs. “Yeah, that’s what I named the rental car. Turns out Arty was right. The minivan is discreet. No one even notices. It’s a catchy name, right?”

“I mean, catchy isn’t the first thing that comes to mind, but I’m not judging.” I peel myself away from him and pull him to his feet. Standing on my tiptoes, I look up and give him a soft kiss. “I appreciate you making me feel better…about everything.”

“As long as you remember you’re a baddie, not a saddie.” He kisses me again.

I think I’m head over heels, obsessed with Cas Wilder. We hold hands as we walk to the rental van he parked across the street. “Were you trying to throw me off? Because if so, I never even noticed the stupid van when we pulled in.”

He smirks. “See? Van-dina is stealthy.”

We both laugh as he closes the door and walks to the driver’s side. Cas pulls away from the curb, and everything is perfect…until it isn’t.

A few houses down, I spot a figure on foot, running away from us. I convince myself it’s just a jogger—but the closer we get, the more undeniable the truth is. Jackson is running down the middle of the street towards what I recognize as his car. Cas tightens his grip on the steering wheel and narrows his eyes. “Little fucker,” he swears under his breath.

He speeds up.

“Cas, what are you doing?” I gasp.

“I’m just going to scare him,” he answers.

But I’m furious. Jackson’s never going to stop. He threw me in the trash and checked out on our relationship. I was never good enough for him when we were together. So much so that he moved on before we broke up. He was the one that posted that he was happy. He was the one who gave up on me. It’s not fair that I’m the one whose life is currently being destroyed by Jackson. Rage rushes through me.

I hate him. I more than hate him… I loathe Jackson. He deserves to be more than scared. If the police aren’t going to keep me safe, then maybe I need to protect myself, because obviously he’s not worried about the possibility of a restraining order—or maybe he’s just completely disregarding it all, considering my emergency request was denied. Nonetheless, it’s clear nothing’s going to stop him from watching me.

Cas veers the van to the opposite side of the street, steering it so he won’t hit Jackson when we pass him. The anger building inside me snaps. At the last minute, I reach over and push the steering wheel. “You need to get closer than that if you want to scare him.”

It happens so fast.

I must have pushed the wheel too hard, or maybe it’s the angle I’m sitting at. Before Cas has time to react, the driver’s side clips Jackson. I cover my mouth and scream, watching in horror as he goes flying across the windshield. His head collides with the hood, and his body twists unnaturally as it lands once, then bounces—like a scorpion—before sliding off the front of the van and rolling a few feet ahead of us.

Chapter twenty-five

Vivienne whispers, “What did I do? I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

Inside, a moral dilemma festers. I could’ve done the right thing and saved Vivienne from this traumatic experience, but I selfishly didn’t. I could’ve corrected and stopped the van from hitting Jackson—truth be told, I didn’t plan to kill him. Fuck! The record label might just drop me. Unless…we cover it up. If everyone is none the wiser, no harm, no foul.

“It’s okay. Vivienne, it was an accident. He ran right in front of us at the last minute,” I whisper, unsure which of us I’m trying to convince.

“No. No. I grabbed the wheel. I shouldn’t have done that. Cas, he didn’t run in front of us. This is all my fault. I didn’t mean to. What’s going to happen?” she blubbers.

“He did actually run out in front of us. He must have misjudged how close and fast we were going when he turned to run to his car.” I point at the only car parked along the opposite side of the road.

She looks from me to the car across the street, then back to me. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But what am I going to do? This will ruin us both.”

Tears stream down her face, and I wait for the guilt to hit—but it doesn’t. I barely feel a small tinge of remorse nagging at my insides. Before it can grow, I bury the regret deep inside me, sending it to the same place I keep all my past memories locked away. It’s eerie how easily old skills return. My father would be so proud.

“We’re gonna cover it up,” I say confidently, my tone laced thick with danger.

Vivienne doesn’t argue. Her terrified eyes lock with mine. “What do I need to do?” she asks in a still soft sniffling voice.

I squeeze my eyes closed and pinch the bridge of my nose, unlocking the painful memories. Skills embedded in my soul flood out, and within moments I have a plan. I’m confidently ready to take charge.

“Run back to the house and grab gloves. We need eight to double up. How busy is your street?” I ask, glancing around in search of cameras.

“N…n…not busy at all,” she stammers.

“Good. Get the gloves and get back here as quickly as possible.” I dip my chin, willing her to go.