His Ruthless Temptation

Chapter Nine

The car moved along the winding road, the early morning light casting a pale glow on the hills rolling past my window. I leaned back in the seat, gripping a well-worn paperback I'd started earlier. My hands were steady now, though I wasn't sure if it was from real calm or simply exhaustion. After a week at the embassy, the chaos felt distant—muted by the routine of safety and assurance.

The embassy had been a bubble of calm, offering me the time to heal and the resources to prepare for this moment. My bruises had faded, my body felt stronger, and I'd finally started sleeping full nights. Now, in the car, I repeated the plan to myself like a prayer. The route had been meticulously planned. Every precaution had been taken. By tonight, I'd be back in the U.S., and the thought was almost enough to settle my nerves.

Almost.

I flipped a page in the book, skimming the words without absorbing them. My mind wandered to the steps ahead: the drive to the airport, the discreet checkpoint, the alias on my ticket, and finally, the flight. Once I boarded, I'd be on my own. The embassy's involvement ended the moment I was seated on the plane.

You'll land in Washington, D.C., where federal agents will meet you at the gate, Dana Walsh had said. They'll handle the rest—temporary accommodations, protection, and reuniting you with your sister.

I tugged at the collar of my white shirt, neatly tucked into plain jeans, and glanced at my reflection in the faint tint of the car window. The outfit was simple and unremarkable, chosen deliberately to avoid drawing attention. My curls were left loose, cascading freely over my shoulders and I wore no makeup, nothing to make me stand out. Just another traveler on a long journey. Ordinary. Invisible. That was the goal.

Yet, no matter how passable I looked on the outside, the tension in my chest hadn't eased. I turned back to the book, hoping to drown out my racing thoughts, but the words blurred as I replayed Dana's instructions in my mind. The plan was tight, efficient. There was no reason for anything to go wrong.

But even with everything in place, I couldn't shake the awareness of how exposed I'd feel the moment I stepped out of the car and into the bustling airport. Until I was seated on the plane, every step carried the possibility of danger.

The thought of seeing Selene again was the only thing keeping me grounded. Her face filled my mind—relief mingling with guilt. She'd fought for me, even when she didn't know what had happened. I owed her a future, one where I wasn't running anymore.

I tightened my grip on the book and exhaled slowly. One step at a time. Everything was planned. Everything was ready. Just make it to the plane.

The car began to slow, and I glanced up from my book as the driver turned into a small gas station on the side of a quiet highway. My stomach tightened instinctively—this wasn't part of the plan.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. His expression was calm, but something about his slight hesitation unsettled me.

"We need to refuel," he said. "It'll just take a few minutes."

I nodded, gripping the book a little tighter. "Alright." My tone was neutral, detached. I wasn't going to make a scene over a minor detour.

He gestured toward the small convenience store nearby. "You can step out, stretch your legs if you want."

"No thank you," I replied, my voice firmer than I intended. "I'm fine here."

He hesitated, his brow creasing as though he was weighing his options. For a moment, I thought he might press me. But then, with a small sigh, he nodded and opened the door. He lingered for a moment, his hand resting on the frame, before closing it gently behind him.