Under the Veil I Rule (Amara) novel Chapter 822

What movie should she watch? Amara mulled it over, glancing at her phone while waiting at a red light to check for any good recent releases.

Suddenly, she noticed something off. Had that black Buick in her rearview mirror been tailing her this whole time?

The roads weren't too crowded right now, and they had already passed several intersections. Logically, two cars heading in the same direction should have separated by now. Why was that vehicle still glued to her bumper?

A sense of unease settled over Amara. When the light turned green, she gently pressed the gas, purposely driving slowly to let the cars on both sides pass her.

She kept up the leisurely pace, intentionally dragging her speed.

By all accounts, the black Buick should have overtaken her quickly. Yet a glance in the rearview mirror showed it trailing her steadily, matching her exact speed. It was glaringly obvious—she was being followed.

Amara's heart skipped a beat, a heavy sense of dread washing over her.

Back when she was driving on the highway with Finnian, they had been rammed by a car sent by Amelia.

Although that incident hadn't ended in a tragedy, it had left her with lingering trauma. Naturally, she was hyper-vigilant about situations like this.

She drove a little further, her eyes darting to the mirror. The black Buick was still right behind her, clinging like a shadow she couldn't shake.

Making a quick decision, she hit the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. She flicked on her hazard lights, pretending something was wrong, and stepped out to inspect her hood.

This was a test to see if the car was truly tailing her or if it was just a paranoid coincidence.

Instead, she cruised aimlessly around the bustling downtown area. She didn't want to make it too obvious, so she made sporadic stops to buy popcorn, coffee, and other random items, playing the part of a casual shopper.

Meanwhile, she frantically called Elysia and Keith, hoping to borrow a few of their bodyguards. But neither of them picked up—they were likely busy. Amara's anxiety spiked into outright panic.

Having nowhere else to go, she circled the downtown streets for what felt like hours. Her trunk was practically overflowing with random purchases; buying anything else would look completely absurd.

Then, she noticed a shift. The driver of the black Buick tailing her seemed to be growing impatient.

While the car was still clinging to her bumper, its speed had become erratic—accelerating aggressively and then suddenly braking. It was as if the driver wanted to overtake her but was forcibly restraining himself.