Chapter 27
Sienna's POV
I straightened, watching as headlights appeared in the distance. A pickup truck, moving slow. Too slow.
It pulled up ten feet in front of my car and stopped. The driver's door opened. A man climbed out—mid-thirties, heavy build, wearing a stained work jacket. He had a beer bottle in one hand.
"Hey," he called out, his voice loud in the quiet. "Looks like you got some trouble here. Need a hand?"
I took a step back, my hand instinctively moving to the pepper spray in my jacket pocket. "Thanks, but I already called for a tow truck. It's on the way."
He didn't move. Instead, he grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "A tow truck? Out here? That's gonna take at least an hour, sweetheart. It's cold and dark. Why don't you come sit in our truck and wait? We'll keep you warm."
The way he said warm made my skin crawl.
A second man climbed out of the passenger side—thinner, younger, wearing a baseball cap pulled low. He leaned against the truck and lit a cigarette, his eyes fixed on me.
"Yeah, don't be shy," the second man added, his tone light and mocking. "A pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone out here."
I gripped the pepper spray tighter. "I said I'm fine. Please leave."
The first man's grin faded. "Hey, we're just being nice. No need to be a bitch about it."
He took a step forward.
I moved back, my spine hitting the car door. "Don't touch me."
He reached out anyway, his hand closing around my wrist. "Come on, don't be difficult—"
I yanked my arm free, my pulse slamming in my ears. "I said don't fucking touch me!"
The second man circled around, cutting off my exit. "Feisty. I like that. What are you gonna do, scream? No one's gonna hear you out here."
My hand closed around the pepper spray. My fingers were shaking.
Then headlights blazed across the scene, bright and blinding.
A black SUV roared down the road, tires screeching as it slammed to a stop five feet away. The driver's door flew open, and a figure stepped out.
Hayes.
His jaw was tight, and when his eyes locked on the two men, something dark and dangerous flickered in his expression.
"Get. Away. From. Her."
His voice was low. Cold. Every word a blade.
The first man turned, sneering. "Who the fuck are you? Her boyfriend? Mind your own business, man."
Hayes didn't answer. He just walked forward, his shoulders set, his hands curling into fists.
The first man barely had time to react before Hayes's fist connected with his jaw. The impact was brutal—a clean, precise strike that sent the man sprawling onto the asphalt. The beer bottle shattered beside him.
The second man lunged, pulling a folding knife from his belt.
Hayes moved faster. He sidestepped the blade, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted. The crack of bone echoed across the empty road. The man screamed, dropping the knife, and Hayes kicked his knee out from under him. He collapsed, gasping.
Hayes stood over them, breathing hard, his eyes like ice. "I'm gonna give you ten seconds to get in that piece of shit truck and disappear. If I ever see you near her again, I won't stop at a broken wrist."
He paused, then added, his voice dropping lower, "And I know people. I will find you."
The two men scrambled to their feet, half-dragging each other back to the truck. The engine roared to life, and they peeled out, taillights vanishing into the dark.
Silence settled over the road like a weight.
I stood frozen against my car, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps. My hands were still shaking.
Hayes turned to face me. The anger drained from his expression, replaced by something I couldn't name. His eyes swept over me—checking for injuries, cataloging every detail—and when he spoke, his voice was rough.
"So this is how you've been living for the past six years? Breaking down on deserted roads, waiting for strangers to 'help' you?"
The words hit like a slap. I straightened, forcing my hands to stop trembling. "I didn't ask for your help, Hayes. And I certainly didn't ask you to show up here."
His jaw tightened. "Oh, I know you didn't ask. You never do. You'd rather stand here freezing your ass off than admit you need someone."
I bit down on my lip. Because he was right.
He took a step closer, his voice cutting deeper. "What were you planning to do if I hadn't shown up? Wait for the tow truck while those creeps circled back?"
"I had pepper spray," I shot back. "I could've handled it."
His laugh was bitter. "Pepper spray. Right. Because that would've stopped two guys who were twice your size."
He stopped, his eyes boring into mine. "You know what? This is exactly like you. Pretending you're fine when you're clearly not. Pushing everyone away and then acting surprised when things go to shit."
My chest tightened. "I don't need a lecture from you."
"No," he said quietly. "What you need is someone to knock some sense into that stubborn head of yours. But apparently, six years wasn't enough."
The words landed like stones. I felt my eyes burn, and I looked away before he could see.
When I spoke again, my voice came out colder than I meant it to. "You want to talk about six years, Hayes? Fine. Let's talk about how you became exactly what everyone expected you to be—a rich and famous athlete. Congratulations. You got everything you wanted."
His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Something that looked like pain.
"So why are you here?" I continued, my voice breaking. "Why do you even care what happens to me? We're nothing to each other anymore."
The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
Then Hayes spoke, his voice so quiet I almost didn't hear it. "You're right. We're nothing to each other. You made that very clear six years ago when you threw me away."
I flinched.
"So don't act like I'm the one who got everything I wanted," he continued, his tone sharp and precise. "You walked away, Sienna. You chose this."
I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him the truth—that I didn't choose it, that I was forced, that every day for the past six years I'd been choking on the lie.
But I couldn't.
So I stood there, silent, while my vision blurred.