Page 43 of Forced Pregnant Bride

At first, I wasn’t sure. He was standing near the edge of the parking lot, leaning slightly against a lamppost as if he needed it for support. But then the tilt of his head, the shape of his stance—it all clicked.

Jay.

My breath caught in my throat. I hadn’t seen him in almost two months, not since Timur laid down his unshakable rule: no contact. I tried to move on, to bury my memories of the life we’d lived, the way his presence had always made me feel…lighter. But here he was, looking anything but light.

A Band-Aid stretched across his temple, a stark contrast against his fair skin. Another wrapped around his forearm, and even from this distance, I could see how stiffly he held himself. He was hurt. Badly, by the looks of it.

I didn’t think. My feet moved on their own, stepping off the curb as I closed the distance between us. A hundred thoughts raced through my mind: What happened to him? How did he get hurt?

Most importantly, did Timur know?

“Jay,” I called out softly, almost afraid to say his name too loudly, as if speaking it might summon some unseen force to pull us apart again.

He turned at the sound, his eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, I saw the same rush of recognition in his gaze. But then I watched as he slid into the passenger seat of a sleek black sedan, his movements sluggish.

Another man, someone I didn’t recognize, got into the driver’s seat, and the car rolled forward, merging into the steady stream of traffic. My chest tightened as questions flooded my mind.

Who was that?

Where was Jay going?

Why did he look so…distant?

I glanced at Ivan, standing by the entrance of the hospital, patting his pockets for the keys. He’d left them somewhere inside, probably at the reception desk. He was mutteringsomething under his breath, too preoccupied to notice the car pulling away.

My heartbeat thudded louder than the buzz of the city around me. I should stay put. Timur had made it clear—I wasn’t to contact Jay under any circumstances. But the sight of him—his disheveled hair, the Band-Aid on his temple—kept replaying in my mind. He looked hurt, and something in his expression gnawed at me. I couldn’t ignore it. I couldn’t just sit here.

My hand trembled as I slid into the driver’s seat. One time, when we were younger, Jay showed me how to hotwire a car. I thought it was illegal and completely wrong, but nothing about the current state of my life seemed right at the moment.

Before I could think of tampering with the ignition, I saw the keys in the console. Ivan must have forgotten that he’d left them there.

I didn’t think; I just acted. Fumbling with the keys and successfully starting it, I felt the car hum to life beneath my fingers. A quick glance at the rearview mirror confirmed that Ivan was still inside the building. My foot pressed down on the gas before my mind could catch up to the recklessness of what I was doing.

The sedan was already a few cars ahead, weaving through traffic. I followed at a safe distance, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. The world outside blurred into a mess of storefronts, headlights, and pedestrians, but my focus remained fixed on the car ahead.

“What am I doing?”

My voice was shaking, and every nerve in my body screamed that I should turn back and call Timur instead. However, the thought of losing sight of Jay again overpowered the guilt.

I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing with all the ways this could go horribly wrong. But the image of Jay, hurt and alone, pushed me forward.

I made the turn, my car blending into the shadows of the narrow road.

I had no plan or idea of what I would do if they stopped or saw me. All I knew was that I had to keep going. Jay was somewhere ahead, and I wasn’t ready to let him disappear again.

I pressed the horn again, the sharp honk slicing through the cars ahead.

“Stop, Jay,” I whispered, though he couldn’t hear me. The car didn’t slow. If anything, it sped up, weaving down the deserted road like he was trying to shake me. My pulse quickened. I leaned forward, gripping the wheel harder, my foot pressing heavier on the gas.

Eventually, his car veered off the main road and headed down a narrow, gravelly path. I followed, ignoring the sharp pangs of fear rising in my chest. It felt like we were heading nowhere, the darkness stretching endlessly on either side of us. But then, suddenly, his brake lights flashed, and the car rolled to a stop in the middle of what looked like an empty lot surrounded by trees.

I slammed on the brakes and threw the car into park, rushing out before I could think twice. Jay’s door opened, and so did the passengers, a man I didn’t recognize stepping out beside him. He was tall, as tall as my brother; he had cold eyes like Timur’s, and he wore a smile that promised more danger than safety.

Tipping up his sharp chin, he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Pleased to finally meet you, Serena Skye. I’m Matteo Colombo, Jay’s friend.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I might have feared that I’d experienced a mini heart attack, and though his name meant nothing to me right now, that sinking feeling returned.

Something was definitely wrong.

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