Chapter 199
Elsa
Before I could respond, Drake stepped forward, placing himself between Emma and me. His presence was overwhelming, radiating power and authority.
"That's enough," he said, his voice deadly quiet.
Emma's demeanor changed instantly. Her body went limp in Bruce's arms, her expression morphing from rage to wounded vulnerability.
"Drake," she whimpered, "she had men attack me after I left the bar. They followed me and—"
"We'll get to the bottom of this," Drake interrupted, his tone allowing no argument. He turned to Bruce. "I suggest you take Emma home. She needs rest."
Bruce bristled visibly at Drake's commanding tone. "I don't take orders from you, Stone."
The tension between the two men crackled in the air like electricity before a storm. I shifted my weight nervously from one foot to the other, caught between these two dominant forces.
"We're leaving," Drake announced, his hand finding the small of my back. The heat of his palm burned through my thin blouse, sending an unwelcome shiver up my spine.
"Elsa!" Emma called after me as Drake guided me toward the exit. "I'll make you pay for this! I swear I will!"
Outside, the cool evening air did little to calm my racing thoughts. I took several deep breaths, trying to steady myself. Drake's hand remained possessively on my back as he led me toward his waiting car.
"She's lying," I said quietly, though part of me wondered if Drake had orchestrated this entire situation. I bit my lower lip hard enough to taste blood. "She's pathetic, but I didn't do a damn thing to her."
Drake remained silent until we reached his car. Taylor opened the door, and Drake gestured for me to get in.
"There's something not right about all this," I continued, sliding into the leather seat. My fingers drummed anxiously against my thigh. "Her reaction seemed too genuine to be faked, but I never—"
Drake slid in beside me, his large frame making the spacious backseat feel suddenly small. His scent—sandalwood and something distinctly Alpha—filled my nostrils, making it difficult to concentrate. I pressed myself against the door, trying to put as much space between us as possible.
The car pulled away from the curb before Drake finally looked at me, his golden eyes piercing in the dim light.
"Did you have someone attack her, Elsa?"
His direct question hit me like a physical blow. I jerked back as if slapped, my mouth falling open in shock. After everything, he still thought I could be capable of such a thing. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I whispered, my voice trembling with rage.
I grabbed the door handle, desperate to escape the suffocating confines of Drake's car. With trembling hands, I yanked it open, not waiting for the vehicle to fully stop. "Go to hell, Drake," I spat, my voice thick with rage.
"Elsa—" Drake called after me, his voice sharp with command.
I ignored him, swinging my legs out of the car. In my haste, I failed to notice how close we were to the curb. The heavy door swung back suddenly, catching my hand between its edge and the frame. Pain shot up my arm as I yelped, jerking backward.
"Goddamn it! Shit!" I hissed through clenched teeth, cradling my throbbing hand against my chest. An angry red mark was already forming across my knuckles. My eyes watered involuntarily from the sharp pain. Drake was beside me in an instant, his large frame blocking the streetlight.
"Let me see," he demanded, reaching for my injured hand, his brow furrowed.
I snatched it away, nearly stumbling backward. "Don't fucking touch me. You've done enough." My chest heaved with each breath, the cold night air burning my lungs.
His golden eyes narrowed, cold and assessing in the dim light. "You still haven't answered my question."
"Because it doesn't deserve an answer, you asshole," I snapped, backing away from him, my good hand raised defensively. "For two fucking hours, I've been trying to convince people I didn't do this. And now you—" My voice cracked slightly, betraying the hurt beneath my anger. "You of all people should know better."
Drake's expression remained impassive, his jaw set in that stubborn line I knew all too well. "I need to hear you say it."
"I didn't do it," I said, each word precise and deliberate, my eyes boring into his. "I didn't send anyone after Emma. And if I had wanted to hurt her, don't you think I would have been smarter about it? Left no evidence? No witnesses? No connection to me whatsoever?" I met his gaze unflinchingly, my chin tilted up in defiance. "You know me better than that, or at least I thought you fucking did."
Drake studied me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. I could see the muscle in his jaw working as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. Finally, he turned to Taylor, who had remained silent behind the wheel.
"Take us to the hotel," Drake ordered, then guided me back into the car with a firm hand on my lower back.
I slid into the backseat, positioning myself as far from Drake as possible, pressing my body against the door. My injured hand throbbed in rhythm with my heartbeat. The pain in my hand had subsided to a dull throb, but the ache in my chest—the hurt of being suspected by someone who should have known better—that pain cut deeper than any physical wound could.
As Taylor pulled away from the curb, I pulled out my phone with shaking fingers and began typing a message to Olivia , the attorney I'd tried to reach earlier. I had to delete and retype several words as my trembling made me hit the wrong keys.
Need legal help urgently. Being questioned about Emma attack. Innocent but evidence being twisted. Can you meet tomorrow? Will pay top rates.
"Who are you texting?" Drake asked, his voice deceptively casual.
"Olivia. I need a lawyer." I didn't look up from my screen, my thumb hovering over the send button. "Because apparently everyone thinks I'm some vindictive bitch who hires thugs."
"You don't need a lawyer."
"With all due respect, I think I fucking do." I finally glanced at him, my eyes narrowed to slits. "Unless you've forgotten, I just spent two hours being interrogated by police who think I'm some sort of criminal mastermind."