Every alarm bell in my body goes off. My gut says move, and for once, I listen. Adrenaline spikes, mind scrambling to catch up. This isn’t some coincidence. This is danger.
I whip my head around to look back, but it's already too late.
Chapter 24
ON BORROWED TIME
Sometimes being in time, can be too late
Dorian
“Twenty-two minutes to destination.”
The navigation system’s calm voice scrapes at my nerves. Every minute feels like an eternity while my heart tries to punch its way out of my chest.
My fingers clamp the dashboard so hard, my knuckles are bone white. I’m wound up so tight, I half-expect the carbon fiber to snap in my grip.
Four hours and forty-seven minutes stuck in that damn jet, grounded by a storm at Chicago Executive—those hours chewed right through whatever patience I had left. Now, there’s nothing but this raw, churning cocktail of impotent rage and sheer terror.
I keep replaying the same loop—what the hell is Leah up to? The not-knowing is eating me alive. All I know is that I have to get to Della.
And it happens.
A sudden, violent pain lances through my ribs, like someone drives an ice pick through my heart, stealing the air from my lungs. I gasp, my hand instinctively clutching my chest as a wave of pure panic washes over me.
“Della,” I choke out, barely a whisper.
I don’t know how, I don’t care about the logic, but I know it with a terrifying certainty that Della is in danger.
“Dave, something’s happened. Step on it. Now.”
David’s head snaps toward me. One look at my face is enough for him. He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t hesitate. He just floors it. The SUV’s powerful engine roars, and the world outside becomes a frantic blur. He understands.
My hands are shaking, wild and stupid, like those dried-up leaves you see skittering across the sidewalk in October. I fumble for my phone. I didn’t want to call her, didn’t want to scare her. Maybe I’m overreacting about Leah. But right now—I just need to hear her voice. Just a second. That’s it.
It rings. Once. Twice. Voicemail. My blood runs cold. I call again. Nothing.
“Five minutes to destination,” the GPS chirps.
My brain runs in circles, replaying the last days with Della, the promises I made her, Leah’s lies… and I cannot lose this feeling of something bad happening.
“We’re here.” David’s voice cuts through my spiral. He points to this house at the end of the street, porch light burning like it’s the only star left in the sky. He pulls the car just in front of the house and I step outside.
Something feels off.
The quietness of the street is in full contrast with the noise in my mind. I go for the front door finding it slightly open to my surprise.
“Della? Silvia?” I call out, pushing the door open and stepping inside.
Inside, it’s… weirdly normal. Cozy, even. Lamp glowing, book on the coffee table—like someone was just here, reading, not giving a damn about my internal chaos.
Then I hear it— a woman’s voice, upstairs somewhere. For a second, my racing heart stumbles in confusion. I overreacted.
A woman appears at the top of the stairs, talking on the phone as she descends.
I take two steps forward, a smile blooming on my face, Della’s name ready on my lips.
But I stop dead.
