Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter thirty-three

Jay

For the first time in my life, I was terrified—terrified for someone else. For Chloe. The fear clung to my chest, sharp and unrelenting, clawing at me with every second that passed. My stomach churned, my mind racing with all the possibilities of what could be happening to her right now.

I sat at the kitchen table, the ticking clock on the wall growing louder with every beat, matching the erratic rhythm of my heart. Each second that slipped by felt like a lost opportunity. Time wasn't on my side. I clenched my fists against the polished wood of the table, my gun resting in front of me. The weight of it didn't bring the usual comfort. No weapon could fix what I had done—leaving her vulnerable, thinking she'd be safe. With Violet close by, the security cameras, the new locks, I thought I'd done enough.

But I hadn't.

"Fuck," I muttered, raking my hands through my hair, gripping it tightly as if the pain would distract me from the rising tide of dread.

The front door slammed open, and Nick stumbled inside, his face pale and drawn. He looked as bad as I felt. Without a word, I grabbed the gun from the table and followed him back outside.

The night air was thick, heavy, the chirping of crickets the only sound breaking the suffocating silence. I slid into the passenger seat of Nick's car, the faint scent of his cologne and weed hanging in the air. Normally, I would've cracked a joke or thrown a jab at him, but tonight there was no room for humor.

Nick started the car, the tires screeching as he pulled onto the road. My jaw tightened as I stared out the window, my mind racing with images of Chloe—alone, afraid, hurt. The guilt in Nick's eyes wasn't lost on me, but I couldn't focus on that now.

"Jay, listen, I—" Nick began, his voice unusually soft.

"Which one took her?" I cut him off, my voice hard and biting. "Damien or Dean?"

Nick sighed, his hands gripping the wheel tighter. "You need to calm down, man. I'm taking you to her."

"Calm down?" I snapped, turning to glare at him. My hands itched for action, for something to hit, something to fix. "Where is she, Nick? Where?"

Nick glanced at me, his jaw working as he considered his words. "If I tell you, you'll lose it. And we can't afford that right now. Just trust me, okay?"

My teeth ground together as I turned my attention back to the road. Trust him? I trusted Nick with a lot of things, but this—this was Chloe. My mind screamed at me to press harder, to make him talk, but I knew he was right. If I lost control now, I'd be no use to her.

"The main priority is getting her back. Not starting a war," Nick said, his voice low but firm.

I scoffed, my fists clenching on my thighs. "That depends on what they've done to her."

Nick shot me a look, the kind that said he knew exactly how far I was willing to go. "Look, we've got a two-hour drive ahead of us. Try to get some rest."

"Rest?" I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "I'm not closing my eyes until she's back with me. Not a chance."

Nick sighed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "You know, I never thought I'd see this, you caring about someone like this. It's almost surreal."

"Shut up, Nick," I muttered, though there was no real heat in my voice.

Nick's tone softened. "I've been where you are, you know. May was a target once. The helplessness—it eats at you. Makes you feel like you're failing at every turn."