Chapter 8: The Last Chance

After leaving the police station, Evan McAllister came to hold my hand.

He reached for me on the courthouse steps, but I jerked away. His touch burned.

I shook him off. “Don’t touch me. You’re filthy.”

My words were harsh, but I meant them. I was done letting him smooth things over.

He froze, then—regardless of the people around—forced me into his car.

People on the sidewalk stared, but he didn’t care. The door slammed behind me, echoing with finality.

The band-aid on his forehead couldn’t cover the wound that was still bleeding. He pulled my hand over and disinfected my cut.

He moved with quiet efficiency, pouring antiseptic on a cotton ball, pressing it to my skin. The silence between us was thick, charged.

The sting made me instinctively try to pull away, but he held on tight.

His grip was gentle but unyielding. He wouldn’t let go, no matter how much I struggled.

“Don’t move.” His voice was low, his grip softened a bit. “Does it still hurt?”

His eyes searched mine, looking for something he couldn’t name.

Then he put a band-aid on me.

His hands lingered for a moment, warm and familiar, but I pulled away as soon as he was done.

I turned to open the door. “This has nothing to do with you.”

I pressed the unlock button, desperate for fresh air.

He immediately locked the car. The AC blasted stale air, and the scent of his aftershave made my stomach twist. “Maya, I can explain.”

His words hung in the air, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear them. Not anymore.

“Maya, if you walk away now, you’ll never know the truth about Lily—or about me.”

My hand froze on the door handle, torn between escape and answers.