"Are you all right?" I hear myself ask. "Are you hurt?"
But when I reach for her, needing to feel her in my hands, to know that she's really here and not down there, she moves out of my reach.
"Oh me?" she asks, and there's a note of something in her tone that I can't make sense of. "I'm fine."
Where the fuck is the threat? Who did this to her?
"Aurora, what?—"
"Can't say the same for your tracker, though." She clicks her tongue. "Hope it wasn't expensive."
"My…what?"
All at once, I recognize the look on her face. The rage in her eyes and the way she has her arms crossed over her body. Defensive.Hostile.
Below the bypass, red and blue lights converge on the scene, painting her in alarming shades as she glares at me.
This was no horrible accident, or a suicide attempt, or even a setup by Ambrose's people; this washer.
Because, what? Because there was a tracker on her car?
Rage, hot and flooding, rushes through me and I'm powerless to stop it.
"Are you fucking insane?"
"I've never felt more sane, actually."
I throw an arm out, gesturing to the still billowing smoke, now glowing with shades of red and blue. "You drove your car off a fucking bypass, Aurora!"
Anger knots between her brows. "I wouldn't have had to do that if you didn't lie to me."
"Lie to you?"
"You said there weren't any more tracking devices I needed to know about. You swore to me, Atticus, and like an idiot, I believed you."
"Jesus fucking Christ," I mutter to myself, pushing a clawed hand through my hair, yanking it out of the band holding it back. "Of course there's a fucking tracker on your car! There are trackers onallour cars. I need to know where you are. How the fuck am I supposed to keep you safe,hmm? How the fuck am I supposed to find you if shit goes bad?"
Her green eyes flash. "This isn't about that," she growls. "I don't care about the tracker, Atticus. I care that you didn't fucking tell me about it! I care that youliedto me."
I recoil from the venom in her voice, and something Sev said to me comes back. Something about her needing to be in control. Make her own choices.
There's real hurt in her eyes. The sort of hurt I didn't think I'd be able to inflict on her ever again because it's the kind that can only exist if she cares. And she's made it clear that she doesn't.
But wait…this isn't the point.
I still feel like I might vomit after thinking she was in that burning car.
And this crazy bitchblew up a fucking car.
I shake my head, fighting to separate logic from fury and fury from guilt. I wipe a palm over the stubble on my jaw, reining in the urge to scream at her. When I do speak, it comes out deadly calm, and by the way she pales, I think maybe that's worse.
I consider telling her I wasn't thinking about the tracker on her car when she asked me to swear, because it's the truth, but I know she won't believe it. How is she supposed to know I have a standing order with Jack, our mechanic, to put them on any vehicles we use?
"Do you have any idea how hard this is going to be to clean up?"
She shuts her mouth.
"I can't just make it go away, Aurora. There's going to have to be a story here. One you're going to have to corroborate. And stories like this," I hiss, gesturing wildly to the wreckage. "Come with suspicion."
