Chapter Six

Kumba. 

The moment I read the message, something in me snapped, I didn’t even remember grabbing my keys.

One second I was staring at my phone, the words “She signed herself out” burning into my skull, and the next I was already halfway out the door, jacket thrown over my shoulder, the faint burn of whiskey still lingering in my throat.

A homeless nineteen year old pregnant girl with a broken leg all alone in the streets alone at night. 

I slammed the penthouse door behind me harder than necessary and strode toward the elevator, my jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.

“Stupid,” I muttered under my breath. “This is absolutely stupid.”

I didn’t know if I meant her or myself.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside, jabbing the button for the parking level. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored walls tie loosened, hair slightly disheveled, eyes darker than usual.

I looked like a man on the edge of losing control and I hated it.

The doors slid open again and I walked straight to my car, unlocking it with a sharp click. The engine roared to life the second I got in, and I pulled out of the garage faster than I probably should have.

The city lights blurred past as I drove my hand tightened around the steering wheel.

Then I grabbed my phone and hit dial.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Kumba?” Dr. Valentina’s voice came through, cautious. “I was just about to call you”

“Where did she go? Do you have any idea where she might have went a all” I cut in sharply.

There was a brief pause.

“We don’t know,” she admitted. “She refused to give a destination. We tried to convince her to stay but”

“You let her walk out?” My voice rose, sharp and incredulous. “With a broken leg?”

“Kumba”

“She is pregnant goddammit,” I snapped. “High risk, according to your own assessment. And you let her walk out into the night like it was nothing?”

“We had no legal grounds to hold her,” Valentina said, her tone tightening slightly. “Her bills were cleared. She was mentally sound. We cannot detain patients against their will Kumba and you know that.”

I exhaled harshly, dragging a hand down my face.

“This is unbelievable.”

“Kumba,” she said more gently now, “maybe you should slow down. You sound agitated. If you have been drinking, it might be better to delegate this. You can have your driver”

“No.”

The word came out cold and immediate.

“I’m handling this, I am looking for her until I find her.”

There was another pause.

“I understand you are concerned,” she continued carefully, “but rushing out like this”

“Concerned?” I let out a humorless laugh. “She is alone in the streets at night, Valentina, pregnant with a broken leg. She is defenseless and it's all my fault.”

My grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Do I need to explain to you how dangerous that is?” I continued, my voice dropping lower, sharper. “A nineteen year old girl in that condition? Anything can happen to her.”

She was silent now, 

“It’s not safe,” I added, quieter now but no less intense. “And it’s our my fault.”

The words hung heavily in the air.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Valentina sighed softly.

“You are right,” she said. “I’m sorry. I should have insisted more.”

I didn’t respond.

“I will alert the staff,” she continued quickly. “In case she comes back. We will call you immediately.”

“You do that,” I said.

“And Kumba be careful.” she said but I ended the call without replying.

The city stretched out before me, glowing under the night sky.

I drove without a clear destination at first, my mind racing faster than the car.

Where would she go?

She had no money, no family, nowhere to stay atleast if what she had told me was true. 

The note Valentina had given her, A shelter.

I cursed under my breath and turned sharply at the next intersection, of course.

I started heading toward the parts of the city I usually avoided. The polished streets and towering buildings gave way to narrower roads, dimmer lights, and quieter corners.

Places where people disappeared, Places where no one asked questions.

My eyes scanned every sidewalk, every alley, every bus stop but nothing.

I drove past a group huddled under a flickering streetlight. Then another near a closed shop. A man sleeping on a bench. A woman wrapped in blankets near a doorway.

But not her.

“Where are you?” I muttered to myself , my frustration rising with every passing minute.

A drop of water hit the windshield and then another. Within seconds, the sky opened.

Rain poured down in heavy sheets, blurring the road ahead and drumming loudly against the roof of the car.

“Perfect,” I muttered darkly. “Just perfect.”

My fingers tightened around the wheel.

“Does this girl have a death wish or something?”

It was like she was actively trying to make things worse for herself.

I slowed slightly, peering through the windshield as the wipers struggled to keep up.

Then I saw it, a small figure ahead walking slowly and unevenly. She had a limp most definitely. 

Even from a distance, I could tell it was her. 

I slowed the car, pulling closer to the side of the road.

She was only a few meters away from a worn gate with a faded sign, the shelter.

She had made it this far in this condition on a broken leg. 

For a moment, something like reluctant admiration flickered through me. 

Her head snapped toward the sound of my car and before I could even say a word, she yelled 

“I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY!”

Her voice cut sharply through the rain.

She lifted her hand slightly, clutching something small.

“And I am not afraid to use it!” she added, her voice fierce despite the slight tremor beneath it.

For a second, I just stared at her, trying to hide the smile spreading across my face.

Then I leaned back slightly in my seat, one eyebrow lifting.

“Wow,” I said dryly. “I am so scared of you right now.”

She froze.

Even through the rain, I saw the moment recognition hit her and her eyes narrowed.

“You.”

There was disbelief in her voice now.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Are you stalking me now?”

I stepped out of the car slowly, the rain instantly soaking through my shirt.

“I was in the neighborhood,” I replied calmly.

She gave me a look that clearly said she didn’t believe a word of it.

“Right,” she said flatly. “And I just happen to be your favorite person to run into huh.”

I shut the car door behind me, my gaze fixed on her.

Up close, she looked worse, pale and exhausted, completely soaked and definitely in pain. 

“You left the hospital,” I said, my tone hardening slightly.

She shrugged, though the movement made her wince.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She shifted her weight on the crutches.

“Because I can’t afford to live there,” she replied simply.

“That’s not an answer, I paid all your bills and you know that so why did you leave?”

Rain continued to pour between us, heavy and relentless.

I took a step closer.

“You can barely walk Gesare,” I said. “You still can’t.”

“And yet,” she shot back, lifting her chin slightly, “I made it all the way here.”

She was Unbelievably stubborn.

I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my temper in check.

“This isn’t something you can just walk off,” I said. “You are injured. You are”

I stopped myself just in time.

Her eyes narrowed again.

“I’m what?” she challenged.

I shook my head slightly.

“Nothing.”

She stared at me for a moment longer before shifting her grip on the crutches.

“Well,” she said, her voice a little softer now, “thank you for earlier at the hospital, I never got the chance to thank you for staying with me and paying my bills”

I didn’t respond.

She glanced toward the shelter gate.

“I should go.”

She took a step forward and her leg wobbled slightly and I moved instinctively.

“Careful”

“I’m fine,” she snapped quickly, pulling away before I could reach her.