Page 120 of Crushed Vow
He followed me over, crouching beside the wheels. A low whistle escaped him as he examined the damage.
“Damn. This isn’t a nail-in-the-road situation. They’re totally shredded.”
He stood and dusted off his palms. “No way a shop’s open now, and even if they were, they couldn’t patch this. You’d need replacements.”
I folded my arms tightly across my chest. My skin crawled.
Manuel tilted his head. “How about I drive you home? You can have someone pick up your car tomorrow.”
His offer was too smooth.
I hesitated.
“I could just take an Uber,” I said, forcing my voice to sound casual. But it came out brittle.
Manuel’s expression faltered. “What?”
He blinked, like I’d insulted him.
“The lot’s practically empty, Charlotte,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “It’s getting dark. I’m offering to drive you because I want to help.”
Then, quieter—slightly colder—“Don’t you trust me to get you home safely?”
That hit like a hook in my gut.
I swallowed hard, every instinct shouting Don’t get in that car.
“It’s not that,” I said quickly, my fingers twisting together at my waist. “I just...”
I couldn’t finish.
“Come on,” he said gently, like coaxing a child into the backseat.
He reached for the door handle.
“I’ll get you home.”
He opened it. Held it. Waited.
I stared at the passenger seat like it was a coffin.
And just then—my phone buzzed in my hand again.
Cassian.
This time I didn’t hesitate. I hit ‘Answer,’ pressing the phone to my ear like a lifeline.
Before I could say anything, his voice came through, rough and dangerous.
“Do not step inside that car.”
I froze.
“I’m just trying to get home—”
“Do not,” he snarled, “step inside that fucking car.”
There was a violent rustle on the other end of the line. Fabric. Heavy breathing. Something crashing.
