Seventeen

Brielle’s POV

My forehead pressed against the cool glass of the car window as the city blurred past us. Streetlights smeared into streaks of yellow and white, buildings flashing by in quick succession. Jaxon’s steady hands stayed tight on the wheel, and I could feel the hum of the engine under my feet.

Desmond had probably realized we were gone by now. I could almost picture his reaction, the sharp clench of his jaw, the way his eyes would darken when anger and calculation collided. He’d be pacing, planning, maybe already calling his people to track us.

The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it made my chest twist in ways I couldn’t explain.

Part of me felt guilty. This was a man I had spent too long secretly craving, a man I used to imagine late at night when I should have been asleep. I’d thought of his mouth on mine so many times it had become routine, a quiet addiction. And now here I was—running from him.

Running from the walls he’d locked me inside, from the silence he always used instead of answers. He said it was for my safety, that he was only doing what my father asked of him. But I wasn’t a child. If safety meant isolation and secrets, then it was nothing but a cage.

Tonight, I was done with cages.

Beside me, Mirren had her head bobbing to the beat pulsing from the car speakers, her shoulders moving as if she was already on a dance floor. A laugh slipped out of me despite myself. At least one of us was enjoying this fully.

“You good back there?” Jaxon’s voice cut in, his eyes flicking to me through the rearview mirror. His knuckles flexed against the steering wheel.

“Yeah,” I answered quickly, clearing my throat.

“You sure? You look like your mind’s everywhere but here. Haven’t moved since we left.”

I exhaled, leaning deeper into my hoodie. “I just got out of a house where every step I took was monitored. Of course I’m lost in my thoughts. I keep wondering what he’ll do when he figures out where I went.”

His brows furrowed. “This Desmond guy—who is he really? Mirren mentioned his name, but from the way you talk, it sounds like he’s holding you hostage. What about your dad? The cops—”

“That’s enough, Jax.” Mirren cut him off, sharper than usual.

I shot her a grateful look.

She leaned forward, her voice firm. “I asked you to drive us, not interrogate her. So just… focus on the road, alright?”

Jaxon’s jaw tightened. “I’m just trying to make sure she’s okay.”

I let out a dry laugh, though it didn’t reach my chest. “That’s not your job anymore, remember?” My voice was steadier than I felt, the words pointed at him like a knife.

The memory of our breakup pressed against me like an old bruise. He had walked away without hesitation, without giving me room to fight for what we had. And now here he was, pretending he cared.

The car fell quiet. The only sound was the low thrum of the tires on asphalt and the bass of the music Mirren turned up just enough to swallow the silence.

I turned my head back toward the window, watching the streets flicker past. My pulse raced for reasons I couldn’t quite pin down. Maybe it was fear of being caught. Maybe it was the strange tension between Jaxon and me. Maybe it was the thrill of knowing Desmond was out there somewhere, already piecing together what we had done.

I should have been afraid of him. In a way, I was. His anger wasn’t loud; it was silent, sharp, suffocating. He didn’t need to raise his voice to make me feel small. He could fill a room with nothing but his presence, and it would crush me more than shouting ever could.

But the terrifying truth was that a part of me wanted to see him again.

I wanted to watch his control slip. To see him finally break his careful restraint and touch me the way I imagined he would. To punish me for defying him.

The thought sent heat crawling up my skin, and I pulled my hoodie tighter around me, as if fabric could hide the chaos in my chest.

“You’ve gone quiet again,” Mirren said, twisting to look at me properly. Her teasing edge had softened.

“Just tired,” I lied, forcing a small smile. “Too much in my head.”

She studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Tonight isn’t for overthinking. No Desmond. No locked doors. No secrets. Just drinks, music, and maybe a little trouble.”

I raised a brow. “Trouble?”

Her grin widened, wicked and sure. “Revenge fun.”

A reluctant laugh broke from my lips. “That sounds like you.”

She leaned back, smug. “Exactly. You need a night where you stop carrying everyone else’s rules and just let yourself live.”

The words settled in me. Maybe she was right. Maybe this night could be more than running. Maybe it could be about choosing myself, even if just for a few hours.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. The screen stayed black. I’d powered it off before we left, cutting off any chance of Desmond tracking me that way. I knew he’d tried calling. Probably more than once. I could almost feel his fury through the silence, building, ready to explode when he found me.

Because he would find me.

He always did.

And that was the part that unsettled me most, I wasn’t sure if I dreaded it or longed for it.

Mirren’s voice broke my spiral. “Hey,” she said softly. “You’re not alone in this, Bri. I’ve got you.”

I met her gaze and managed a real nod. She always had a way of pulling me back when my head went too far.

Leaning back against the seat, I let my eyes drift closed. Just for a moment.

I wasn’t running away. Not exactly.

I was running toward something, toward air that wasn’t heavy with secrets, toward freedom I could taste, toward the laughter I hadn’t felt in weeks.

Tonight was mine.

And if Desmond didn’t like it?

He’d just have to catch me first.

It was his turn to chase.