Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter forty-eight

Chloe

     THE bass rattled through the car, a deafening pulse that thrummed against my spine. My seat shuddered with every beat, but I sat still, arms folded, staring at Justin. Studying him. The sharp contrast of his freshly cut sides and the tousled chaos of his lighter brown hair. The way his dark jeans hugged his frame, paired effortlessly with a plain white shirt and a black leather jacket that clung to him like a second skin. He looked different, yet exactly the same. A walking contradiction—just like always.

And yet, despite the absurdity of the situation, despite the fact that I had been kidnapped by my ex-boyfriend and dragged into his car against my will, here I was... gawking at him.

I swallowed hard. What the hell is wrong with me?

"Enjoying the view?" His voice cut through the pounding music, laced with amusement. A slow, knowing smirk curled at the corner of his lips as he raised an eyebrow.

Without thinking, I shot back, "No." The word was sharp, immediate, but it didn't carry nearly enough bite to mask the way my heart was hammering.

His grin didn't falter. "Shame. I've been told it's quite the sight."

Cocky as ever. Unbelievable. How could he be so smug after dragging me into his car like some action-movie cliché?

I huffed. "Oh, go to hell, Justin."

"I probably will," he mused, running a hand through his already-mussed hair, fingers threading through the strands as if he had all the time in the world. He kept his eyes on the road, ignoring me completely. Like none of this—none of us—mattered.

I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms. After everything we had been through, after everything we had built, it had all come crashing down. Shattered beyond repair. The memories crept in uninvited, flooding my mind in rapid, painful flashes. I gritted my teeth. I need to go home. I need to never see him again.

Love was blind. Foolishly, recklessly, irreversibly blind.

I had been through hell since leaving California—dragged into the chaos of the Bieber brothers' world, tossed into a storm I never asked for. But I was done. I deserved peace. This needed to end.

"Take me home, Justin." My voice snapped through the air like a whip. The fury had been simmering beneath my skin, and now it boiled over. "I don't know why you're doing this, but I'm so sick of you and your brother's little games."

His jaw tensed, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, but edged with something dangerous. "I'm trying to protect you." His gaze flicked toward me, sharp and unyielding. "So cut me some slack, won't you?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "Protect me? From what, Justin? Yourself?"

Anger burned in my veins. He had some nerve. "If this is what you call protection—kidnapping me and driving me as far away as possible from my people—then congratulations, you're a real genius. Hate to break it to you, but I can take care of myself. I don't need your protection. And most importantly, I don't even want it."

His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable, gone too fast to catch. "Princess." The old nickname slipped from his lips, effortless. And just like that, I felt myself crumbling.

Damn him.

"Damien is after you," he continued, voice low. "And this time, he's done playing. Unfortunately, he's still my brother, but the difference is—I know his tricks. I worked for him. I know who he works with, how he works. I'm not saying Bra—" He stopped short, his throat bobbing as he swallowed whatever name he nearly let slip.