Page 132 of Stuck with my Boss Daddies

I gasped, the world tilting, rain soaking through my clothes as I finally managed to move, stumbling toward the wreckage.

Steam hissed from the hood, the smell of gasoline thick in the air. My hands shook as I reached for the door handle, my fingers slipping against the twisted metal.

“Please,” I choked out, my voice raw. “Please wake up.”

A groan.

Adam.

His head lolled to the side, blood streaking his temple. His lashes fluttered, barely conscious.

“Sadie…”

The way he said my name, so soft, so broken, sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over me.

Kai wasn’t moving.

No. No, no, no.

“Kai!” My hands found his arm, his face. His skin was too cold, his breaths too shallow. His lips were parted, but no words came.

And Samuel…

Samuel wasn’t breathing.

I let out a strangled sob, shaking him, begging, pleading, my hands pressing against his chest, slick with blood. His dark eyes were closed, his strong body too still, too quiet.

“No! No, you can’t…” My throat burned. “Samuel, please! Wake up!”

Nothing.

Something inside me cracked, the kind of break that never healed. A wretched, keening noise tore from my chest as I rocked forward, pressing my forehead against his, feeling the warmth already fading from his skin.

“Don’t leave me,” I whispered. “Not you. Not any of you. Please...”

And then, the fire started.

Flames licked at the edges of the wreck, orange and furious, devouring everything in its path. I tried to pull them out, tried to drag them free, but the smoke burned my eyes, my lungs, turning my screams into ragged gasps.

One by one, they slipped away from me.

And I could do nothing but watch.

A final explosion rocked the night, heat engulfing my skin…

Then suddenly, the flames parted.

A car idled in the middle of the road, its headlights cutting through the smoke—too bright, too sharp. The driver’s side door swung open.

And he stepped out.

Owain.

He was pristine. Not a drop of rain on him, not a trace of ash. He straightened the cuffs of his suit, expression cool, detached, as if he were surveying nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

“This is what happens,” he mused, tilting his head, “when you try to play house with men who aren’t in your league.”

My blood turned to ice.

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