When I reach the parking lot I remain out of sight and watch as she slips into a car, and a crooked smile plays at my mouth when I realise it is a different vehicle from the one she used to follow me with.
I did my snooping, and I discovered she has several vehicles scattered around the island, none of them registered in her name, and not a single one I would ever associate with her.
The engine roars to life and, within seconds, she is speeding out of the academy grounds, disappearing into the night.
I make my way to one of her cars parked at the far end of the lot, after all, she has blown my precious Lamborghini into flames.
And here it is.
My fucking obsession with her, apparently without limits.
I would kill a motherfucker for daring to so much as look at my car the wrong way, I once shot a snob for bumping into me at a red light, and yet here she is, walking away entirely unharmed after blowing it all to hell.
It takes me less than a minute to break into her vehicle.
And then I am after her.
She is driving toward the private airstrip, and my brows knit together.
Just as she arrives, a helicopter is already waiting, its blades turning slowly, the pilot seated inside.
But something else catches my attention.
Another vehicle sits in the otherwise near empty parking lot, positioned just a little too carefully, standing out where it should not.
I have a feeling about it.
And I am proven fucking right.
Because the moment Octavia steps out of her car and closes the door, two men surge from the shadows.
They are masked, dressed in dark clothing.
My teeth grind as I watch them advance toward her.
And I am already out of my own car.
A blade whistles past Octavia’s ear, nicking her lightly, and I cannot help the dark curl of a smile as it buries itself cleanly in the throat of one of her attackers.
My girl has the other man in a chokehold, and when she looks at me, her brows lift in surprise, and it costs her.
Because the moment her attention slips, he manages to twist free of her grip and drive a hard blow into her stomach.
“Fuck no.”
My Makarov is in my hand before the words have even left my mouth, and I put a bullet straight through his head.
He drops like dead weight.
I don’t lower the weapon. I turn it on the hand he used on Octavia and fire again and again, until there is nothing left of it.
Octavia narrows her eyes at me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she snaps. “Are you following me again?” the exasperation is unmistakable in her tone.
I tilt my head slightly. “I believe the words you are looking for are thank you, love, for saving me.”
She rolls her eyes. “I had it under control.”
