Page 2 of When the Storm Breaks
My breathing is shallow, every exhale timed to avoid the telltale fog that could give me away. I search for her as she moves through the coffee shop, but the wind picks up, scattering leaves and dust across the pavement. I shut my eyes, lower my head, and inhale deeply,listening for her.
The coffee shop door swings open. Bells chime. Sleepy morning voices spill into the street.
As I lift my head, I catch her reflection in the window and a slow smile creeps across my face.There she is.She leans across the counter, her body angled just so, her smile perfectly timed to the barista’s laughter. My heart hammers in my chest, my nerves sparking like live wires—the urge to move, to act, almost unbearable.
But I’ve always been patient.
She steps away from the counter, still smiling, her laugh bright and sweet. Anger surges through me, settling hot and coiled in my chest.
It cuts through me, that laugh. Pointed. Grating. A fucking lie.
She doesn’t deserve to smile. She doesn’t deserve to laugh. Not after the mess she left behind.
She steps outside, walking toward me, unhurried. She’s distracted, her eyes on her phone. And I move.
One second. That’s all it takes.
My fingers lock around her wrist one by one. She jerks away, her coffee cup slipping from her fingers, crashing against the pavement. I pull her toward me and step into her space, anchoring her beside me.
Her breath hitches. I feel her pulse thrumming frantically under my fingers. But she doesn’t scream. Not yet.
She turns to face me slowly, and when our eyes finally meet, I catch it—the quick flash of calculation. She’s already planning her escape. Cute.
I tighten my grip just enough to remind her.
She swallows hard, her voice barely a whisper. “What do youwant?”
It’s not a question. It’s a challenge. And it’s the wrong choice.
“What, no smile? Thought you liked surprises?”
I could make her scream. I could break her in an instant. But I want to see what she does next.
She takes a small step away, and I lean in.
“Let’s take a walk to the car,” I say calmly. “No reason for this to be difficult.”
I smirk, pulling back just far enough to see her reaction, but she freezes. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t make a sound.
Her brain is finally catching up to what her body already knows.
Only a few steps. But the moment she sees the car, a louder fear settles in.
I hold the door open for her, but she hesitates, sucking in a deep breath—just once, but it’s enough. She’s out of second chances. A hand on her back, a push forward. She stumbles. Her hands shake. Her lips part, but no words come out.
I slam the door behind her, circling the car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I turn over the engine, grip the wheel, and let the silence stretch.
She starts to turn toward me, then freezes, her gaze locked on the windshield.
“Where are we going?” she asks, voice shaking.
I don’t answer. Not yet. I let the question hang, my attention focused on the road ahead—the quiet roll of tires on asphalt, the growl of the engine as I press the pedal down. The first turn out of town comes fast, but falls right under my control.
A choked sob catches her throat when I finally speak.
“It could’ve been different,” I sigh. “I just wish you would’ve told the truth, Jules.”
Chapter 1
