The Collision
STELLA
Rain cut through the night like cold knives.
It soaked through my clothes, plastered my red hair to my face, and blurred the streetlights into smears of yellow. My lungs burned, and every uneven step sent pain shooting up my ankle. I'd lost the heel of one shoe three streets ago, but I kept running.
I couldn't stop.
Behind me lay the shouting, the lies, and the smug smile my stepsister had worn while destroying the last good thing in my life. I had no phone, no money, and nowhere to go. Just the clothes on my back and the desperate need to get away.
A bitter laugh escaped me.
Brilliant, Stella. Run into the rain with absolutely no plan. What could possibly go wrong?
A low engine growled behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder. Headlights sliced through the storm, approaching too quickly. I stumbled toward the pavement, but my injured ankle buckled just as I turned.
The brakes screamed.
Then everything happened at once.
Metal slammed into my hip, throwing me onto the wet asphalt. My shoulder struck the road, followed by my head. Pain burst through my body, and something warm trickled from my temple into my hair.
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
I tried to push myself up, but my arms trembled beneath me. The world spun, and the rain blurred above my head.
No. Not like this.
I had finally found the courage to leave. I couldn't die on some unfamiliar street before I'd even figured out what came next.
Footsteps approached.
A car door slammed, followed by a low, irritated curse.
“Fuck.”
I forced my eyes open.
A man crouched beside me, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a black coat that probably cost more than everything I owned. His black hair was slicked back from a face that was frankly unfair to look at, all sharp features and a strong jaw.
He was devastatingly handsome.
That was my first coherent thought, which was frankly absurd considering I might have a broken ankle or something.
Then I met his eyes.
Grey. Piercing. Utterly calm.
He looked at the blood at my temple, then at my face, assessing the damage with a composure that made my stomach twist.
“Can you hear me?”
I tried to answer, but a broken sound escaped my throat instead.
His jaw tightened. He pulled out his phone.
“Call Dr. Brennan. Tell him to meet us at the estate. I'm on my way.”
He ended the call and slid one arm beneath my knees, the other behind my back.
I gasped as he lifted me. Pain flared through my shoulder, and my fingers caught in the front of his coat.
“Please...” The word barely escaped my lips.
I didn't know what I was asking for. Help. Mercy. A chance to wake up tomorrow.
His grip tightened as he carried me toward the black car waiting at the curb.
I tried to lift my head, to see where he was taking me, but the streetlights blurred into streaks of gold. My temple throbbed, and the rain grew distant, as though I were sinking beneath it.
I wanted to ask his name.
I wanted to know why a stranger who had just hit me seemed more concerned with taking me somewhere than calling for help.
But my lips wouldn't move.
The last thing I felt was his arm tightening around me as my body went limp.
Then the darkness swallowed me.
