Chapter 62: Breaking Points Jake POV

I gripped the steering wheel tight, my knuckles whitening as we pulled away from the diner, the black sedan still idling down the street. I glanced in the rearview mirror, adjusting it with a quick flick of my wrist, my eyes narrowing. "That car’s following us," I muttered, my foot tapping the gas pedal, speeding up slightly.

Sophia twisted in her seat, peering out the back window, her hands clutching her notebook. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I’m sure," I said, turning a corner sharper than I meant to, the tires squealing against the pavement. "It’s Victor—he’s still watching you."

She sank back, flipping her notebook open, her pen tapping against the pages. "Or someone else. Investigation’s cold—why keep tabs?"

I slammed my palm on the wheel, the horn blaring briefly. "Because he knows you won’t stop, Soph! He’s paranoid!"

Melissa leaned forward from the backseat, grabbing the headrest. "Jake, calm down. We don’t know it’s him."

I shot her a look in the mirror, my jaw clenching. "Who else would it be? He’s got us on a leash!" I checked the mirror again, the sedan still there, lurking a block back.

Sophia scribbled something, her voice sharp. "We need to lose them, then figure this out."

I nodded, swerving into a side street, then another, my hands jerking the wheel. "Hold on," I said, accelerating past a delivery truck, its horn honking as we cut it off. I glanced back—the sedan was gone. "Lost ‘em," I grunted, easing off the gas, pulling into our parking lot.

We climbed out, my boots scuffing the asphalt as I locked the car with a beep. "I’m hitting the gym," I said, grabbing my duffel from the trunk, slinging it over my shoulder. "Need to clear my head."

"Be careful," Sophia said, adjusting her jacket, her eyes darting around.

"Always am," I replied, heading off, my pace quickening as I walked to the gym, the cold air stinging my face. Inside, I dropped my bag by the lockers, pulling on my gloves with sharp tugs.

Clara was already there, setting up pads in the ring. "Ready, Jake?" she called, slapping the pad with her hand.

"Yeah," I said, stepping in, cracking my knuckles. "Let’s go hard today."

She nodded, holding up the pad. "Jab—now!"

I swung, my fist connecting with a solid thwack, my breath puffing out. "Again," I grunted, dodging a mock punch she threw, my feet shuffling on the mat.

"Harder!" she barked, shifting the pad. "Use your legs!"

I pivoted, kicking high, my sneaker smacking the pad, sweat dripping down my forehead. "Like that?" I asked, wiping my brow with my sleeve.

"Better," she said, tossing me a water bottle, the plastic crinkling as I caught it. "What’s got you pushing like this?"

I twisted the cap off, gulping water, the cold hitting my throat. "Sophia’s in deep—someone’s tailing us. Gotta be ready."

Clara adjusted her gloves, stepping closer. "You’re training for a fight, not a workout. Keep your focus."

"Always," I said, tossing the bottle back, resuming my stance, throwing punches until my arms burned, my shirt sticking to my chest. I ducked and weaved, my breaths sharp, imagining Victor—or whoever—coming at Sophia.

After the session, I grabbed my bag, pulling my hoodie over my head, the fabric damp with sweat. I walked home, my boots thudding on the sidewalk, a stray dog barking from an alley as I passed. At the apartment, I pushed the door open, slamming my keys onto the counter with a metallic clank.

Sophia looked up from the couch, her notebook open, a pen in her mouth. "Hey," she said, pulling it out, setting it down.

"You’re still at it?" I asked, kicking off my boots, dropping my bag by the door.

She flipped a page, scribbling a note. "Yeah, Jake. We can’t stop now."

I walked over, grabbing a beer from the fridge, popping the cap off with a hiss. "You’re letting this eat you alive, Soph! What about us?"

She stood, tossing the notebook onto the cushion, her hands on her hips. "What about us? I’m doing this for us—for me!"

I took a swig, the bottle cold against my lips, then slammed it down, the glass rattling. "For you? You’re obsessed! Victor’s winning, and you’re chasing ghosts!"

"Ghosts?" she shouted, stepping closer, pointing at me. "He killed Colson, Jake! That’s not a ghost!"

"You don’t know that!" I yelled back, my fists clenched, my voice bouncing off the walls. "The cops gave up—why can’t you?"

"Because I can’t let him walk!" she snapped, grabbing her jacket from the couch, slipping it on with a yank. "I’m not giving up!"

I grabbed her arm, my fingers tight. "You’re tearing us apart, Soph! When’s it enough?"

She pulled free, her eyes flashing, shoving her notebook into her bag. "When he’s down! I’m going out—I need air."

"Sophia—" I started, but she stormed to the door, yanking it open, slamming it shut behind her, the bang echoing in my ears.

I stood there, my breath heaving, picking up the beer and taking another swig, my hand shaking slightly. "Damn it," I muttered, setting it down, running my hands through my hair, tugging at the ends.

I paced to the window, pushing the blinds aside, peering out at the street—no sign of her. A pigeon flapped past, landing on the sill outside, pecking at nothing. I turned back, kicking the leg of the couch, then stopped, noticing a slip of paper on the floor by the door.

I bent down, picking it up with two fingers, unfolding it—black ink scrawled in sharp letters: Back off or lose her. My stomach dropped, my hand crumpling the note, my voice low. "What the hell?"