His hand shot out, gripping my wrist. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Let. Go.”
We stared at each other. His grip was tight enough to bruise. My pulse
hammered in my ears.
Finally, Julian released me. He sat back, jaw working.
“Atlas,” he said quietly, “Back to school.”
We drove in silence. The tension in the car was suffocating.
I rubbed my wrist where Julian had grabbed me. It throbbed faintly.
Another bruise to add to the collection.
The car turned onto a wider avenue. Through the windshield, I could see the traffic ahead–taxis, delivery trucks, a courier on an electric scooter weaving between lanes.
Julian suddenly reached for me.
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“What are you-” I tried to pull away, but his arm came around my
shoulders, pulling me against him.
Then the impact hit.
The scooter–spinning out of control–slammed into the passenger
side door with a deafening crunch. The car lurched violently. My head
snapped forward, but Julian’s hand was there, shielding it from the
window.
The world tilted. Then steadied.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I was pressed against Julian’s chest,
his heartbeat pounding fast and hard beneath my ear. His arm was
locked around me like a vice.
“Are you hurt?” His voice was rough, urgent. “Did you hit your head?”
I shoved him away. “I’m fine. Let go of me.”
He didn’t release me immediately. His eyes scanned my face, checking
for injuries.
“Let go,” I repeated.
Finally, he dropped his arm.
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Atlas was already out of the car, surveying the damage. Through the
window, I could see the aftermath: an electric scooter lying on its
side, a middle–aged woman kneeling on the pavement, frantically
checking a teenage girl in the back seat.
Julian’s expression turned cold. “Call the police. And our lawyer.”
“No.” I reached for the door handle.
Julian’s hand shot out again, gripping my arm. “What are you doing?”
I pulled free and opened the door.
The woman was crying now, apologizing in rapid, terrified tone. The
girl–wearing a St. Valerius uniform–had tears streaming down her
face.
I recognized her.
Madison’s friend. One of the girls from the art room.
The woman looked up at me, eyes wide with fear. “I’m so sorry! The brakes failed! Please, I didn’t mean to-
“It’s okay.” I knelt beside her. “Is she hurt?”
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Chapter 58
The girl shook her head, but her face was pale. Shaking.
Behind me, I heard Julian approach.
“Atlas, call-”
“Let it go,” I said, standing up.
Julian stared at me. “What?”
“Let it go.” I met his eyes. “It was an accident. They’re scared enough.”
His expression darkened. “They damaged my car. They could’ve hurt
you. And you want me to just… let it go?”
“Yes.” My voice was steady. “Because that’s what decent people do.”
For a long moment, Julian said nothing. Just stared at me like I was a
puzzle he couldn’t solve.
Then he turned to Atlas. “Cancel the lawyer. Let them go.”
Atlas hesitated. “Sir, are you sure?”
“Yes.” Julian didn’t look away from me. “But-” He turned to the
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woman, his voice cold and flat. “Be more careful next time. You won’t
get this lucky again.”
The woman burst into fresh tears. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
The girl looked up at me. Recognition flickered in her eyes. Then shame. She’d been there this morning, in the art room, holding the
phone while Madison poured coffee on my things.
Now here I was, standing beside the man whose family could destroy
hers with a single phone call, telling him to let them go.
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I nodded once. Then turned and got back in the car.
Atlas drove us in silence. The damage to the door was minimal–just a
dent and some scratched paint. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.
Julian sat stiffly beside me, arms crossed. He hadn’t said a word since
we’d left the accident scene,
Finally, he spoke, “You owe me now, Elara.”
I looked at him.
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Chapter 58
“I let them go because you asked.” His voice was soft. Dangerous.
“Don’t forget that.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.

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