Chapter 30 Aria
ARIA
Ican barely see where I’m going through the blur of tears streaking down my face, the road ahead dissolving as my hands clamp tighter around the wheel, knuckles straining. The farther I drive, the deeper the truth settles, cold and dense, like cement in my stomach, poured and left to harden.
How could she choose him over me? Her own daughter?
My foot presses harder on the gas, not out of urgency to reach anywhere in particular, but out of desperation—anything to outrun the pulverizing weight crushing my chest. The betrayal. The heartbreak.
The sheer disbelief of what she’s done bears down harder than the road ahead, everything around me slipping out of focus. I’m hardly paying attention to where I’m going, lost in the bleak spiral inside my head, imprisoned by it.
He wouldn’t have just shown up like that. There’s no explanation sound enough to make sense of it, no hints, no warning. It’s been years.
Why now?
The only answer I can find is one that sours my stomach—it’s because she’s never really cut him off.
All these years, she’d been going behind my back, feeding me rotten lies and promises she never meant to keep.
It all makes sense now. Her old habits are still intact.
The same carelessness. Turns out it’s all because she’s been clinging to a double life all along, while I let hope blind me, convincing myself it was something else. Pathetic.
I thought our relationship was strained enough back then, but nothing compared to knowing your mother is still seeing the man who tried to violate you.
Over and over. While she lay passed out somewhere nearby, leaving you alone to fend for yourself.
She promised she’d gotten rid of him. And I believed her. I really, really believed her.
An arm moves up to wipe my eyes, trembling as my sleeve catches the tears, then soaks through while the final sob unravels in a weak, shallow breath as my vision begins to clear. But by then, it’s too late.
I don’t even register what’s happening until I yelp. Something fast and low darts across the road, a streak of fur catching in my headlights. I slam the brakes, my chest lurching against the seatbelt as the car jerks to a stop.
My shoulders curl forward, mouth hanging open as I gasp for air, both hands clamped on the wheel. I stare ahead, stunned, relieved I stopped in time. I shouldn’t be driving around recklessly like this, wandering aimlessly with my emotions still burning hot.
I slowly ease down on the gas pedal. My eyes squint through the smeared windshield, the marks from past storms and lazy wipers now glaring back at me under the lights. The road ahead glows faintly, but everything else is in perpetual darkness. Heavy. Silent.
I’ve been so lost in my dreary thoughts that I didn’t notice where I’ve ended up. I squint, but all I can see is cracked pavement tapering into the dark, ominous shadows that stretch ahead, the rest of the world erased beyond the reach of the beam.
Anxiety cools my thoughts. My ears tune to the slow creak of the wheels rolling over the narrow sliver of road barely visible in front of me, a metallic gleam of a train track slowly emerges as I move forward.
I think about pulling over. Maybe checking where I am before I keep going, but then my car jolts.
Suddenly losing steam, it sputters forward on its last breath, gradually slowing before it finally jerks one last time. The engine cuts out. Everything, including my own breath, stills, brittle with disbelief. Right on the edge of the tracks.
What on—
My eyes shoot to the dashboard, and there it is. The bright yellow warning light. Empty.
No. No. No.
Shit. I never got the chance to fill up the gas this week. I totally forgot. Frustrated, I press the pedal, jerking the wheel, but it stays stiff in my hands. It won’t budge.
Heat prickles behind my eyes. I snap them shut, forcing myself to stay in control as I drag in a long, deep, shaky breath and blow it out.
This is so fucked.
I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be out in the middle of the night with no plan, no backup, chasing the storm they left me in like I could ever outrun it. You can’t outrun shitty luck. It always finds a way to catch up, seeping back in, wearing you down.
Just like right now.
How could I leave without at least checking my gas tank or grabbing essentials? No wallet, no charger, nothing. I didn’t think any of this through.
A high-pitched, unadulterated wail rips from my cinched throat as I slam a hand into the center of the wheel, the hurt clawing for a way out. The horn erupts beneath my palm, a harsh jolt that startles me when it sounds again, louder the second time.
My heartbeat snags, then slams into overdrive. Even the air feels serrated in my chest, the ache flaring sharp and tight, refusing to settle as tension coils in my limbs.
What now? How the hell am I supposed to get out of here?
Shuddering from the rageful vibrations ripping through my body, I paw at my jeans for my phone, something I should’ve done long before ending up in this place.
Once it’s in my hand, I flick it on and check for the battery in the corner. Forty-nine percent. Good. My eyes slide over to the other side. 10:27 p.m. Clara might still be awake.
My fingers shake as I swipe on her name, watching her profile picture enlarge on the screen as the call rings through. I bring the phone to my ear.
I fidget in my seat, knees bumping together as it rings. The longer it carries on without her picking up, the lower my heart sinks, until the familiar voicemail beep drops it straight into my stomach. I hang up and text her instead.
It’s not that late. She’ll see it in a second.
I stare at my one-line message until the text bubble blurs out of focus and the screen eventually dims, still unanswered. Shit. I tap it again, fingers more urgent this time, then hit call. Please. She needs to answer. Come on, Clara. I don’t have anyone else I can call right now.
It goes to voicemail. Again.
My teeth graze the side of my thumb as I weigh my options, whether to try again or accept that I’ll probably be stuck sleeping in my car until morning. I haven’t made up my mind when a loud knock on the window jolts me upright.
I yelp, startled, my thumb flinching from its place at my lip as the phone wobbles in my grip.
A large hand appears against the window, palm pressed flat. Fingers curl into a fist before another harder knock.
I jolt again, a choked cry breaking loose as I fling myself back in the seat, shoulders cinched tight. Panic barrels in, a tidal surge crashing through me, stealing the air from my lungs as I huddle near the center console.
I remain curled up there, the hard edges digging into my side as I press as far back as I can, jaw clenched so tight it hurts, breath lodged in my throat.
I’m all alone.
Stuck.
No gas. No one to pick up my calls. Not that it’ll matter in the span of the next few seconds if he breaks through the glass.
My limbs grow cold and stiff, a numbing wave creeping over me from head to toe. Renewed tears run down my cheeks in scalding rivulets, eyes screwed shut until I finally realize it’s silent.
Only then do I open my eyes, lashes fluttering through the moisture, attention fixed on my window.
He’s gone.
Nothing but a handprint remains, smeared against the glass, and the stretch of darkness engulfing where he stood.
Instinct takes over as I scramble to double check the locks, needing to feel that small click beneath my fingers, proof that I still have some barrier between me and whatever’s out there.
My ribs throb as my heart ricochets through my chest. I glance down at my phone, swiping off Clara’s profile and switching to the only other person I can call.
His name glows on my screen. The last message between us is from the night he called before prom.
Heat pricks at my cheeks, blooming up the way it always does when Ledger crosses my mind.
I hesitate, finger trembling over his number, my lip caught between my teeth, nerves drawn tight, but it doesn’t take long before I press call.
The faintest, quickest ping, something that could’ve been a tiny pebble or insect tapping against my windshield, jolts me.
I clutch the phone tighter to my chest, my breath caught hard in my throat as I wait.
My eyes dart through the front, nerves stretched thin, every inch of me braced for the next intrusive sound to send me into another panic spiral.
He’s my last hope. I don’t know if whoever’s out there will come back, or if he’ll be alone, or bring others. But I know one thing: loitering out here means danger. The longer I wait, the worse it can get.
Only criminals and predators prowl places like this at night, and even though I’m calling someone just as lethal, I know I’ll be safer with him.
I’m always safe with him.
Even if that safety comes in the presence of my former captor, a man I’ve seen murder up close, whose boundaries are stretched far beyond normal.
I lift the phone to my ear, pulse pounding in my temple as it rings. He doesn’t pick up right away, my body buzzing with unease, until finally, he answers, his voice a deep gravel, like I’ve woken him.
“Aria?”
The sound alone breaks me. Like a torn stitch, incisive and immediate, snagging something loose in my chest, tearing the words from my throat, and splintering them into a choked sob.
“Hey, hey,” he says, instantly more alert. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I glance at my empty gas tank, the handprint on my window, my body trembling as I draw a breath and try to steady my voice. “I-I’m sorry for c-calling—”
“You’re fine,” he murmurs, his voice even but carrying a thread of tension. It slides beneath my skin, smooth and familiar, coaxing the tightness from my ribs.
My breaths are slow, fragile, and uneven. The stutter is still heavy, clinging to my tongue, rendering me unintelligible.
“What’s going on?”
I lick the salt from my lips as I exhale a ragged breath, steadying myself. “I’m outside, my c-car’s out of gas, I d-don’t know where I am, and there’s someone else out here.”
“Send me your location,” he says urgently. “I’ll find you.”
I hear the sharp clatter of his keys through the speaker, his footsteps heavy, quick, and purposeful, as if he’s hurrying down a flight of stairs. I nod instinctively, even though he can’t see me. Already, a sense of ease settles in. He’s coming. I won’t be stuck out here alone.
I have a safety net. I have him.
Tiny sparks course through my fingers as I hang up, relief slowly curling into nervous anticipation of seeing him again. I absently thread a hand through my hair and smooth the creases from my shirt with the other.
My attention snaps back when red and blue lights cut through the dark, one flashing, then another—staining the side of my rearview mirror with blistering bursts of color.
My breath catches. Acid stings the back of my throat as I watch the vehicle slow behind me, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might crack my ribs.
It’s the police.