Under the Veil I Rule (Amara) novel Chapter 827

Being trapped in that suffocating, intimate space with Finnian was pushing her to her limits. Will's arrival felt like an absolute lifeline, and she practically sprinted toward him.

Finnian froze for a second. Watching her practically bolt away, he shook his head with a helpless sigh, stepping out to coordinate with Will.

The tow trucks efficiently hitched up his ruined car and the shattered Buick. Returning to Amara's side, Finnian stated, "My ride is completely totaled, so I'll be coming with you."

He delivered the line with infuriating entitlement, immediately sliding into the driver's seat of her car. "I'll drive."

"..."

Seeing him commandeer her vehicle without a shred of permission annoyed her.

Yes, his car was wrecked, but Will was literally right there! He could have easily hitched a ride with his assistant. Why was he stubbornly latching onto her?

On a normal day, Amara would have fiercely argued the point. But the man had just put his life on the line for hers. Kicking him out felt unnecessarily cruel. Swallowing her irritation, she slipped quietly into the passenger seat.

Finnian smoothly navigated the car to his own downtown apartment. His excuse was that it would be more practical and sterile for her to dress his wounds there.

Amara reasoned that an apartment was indeed a better setting for first-aid than her isolated villa, so she played along.

During the drive, she patted down her clothes and finally discovered the tiny tracking patch stuck to the back of her jacket.

She peeled it off, inspecting it closely. It was a high-grade GPS tracker.

A sudden memory clicked into place—Antonia picking a totally random fight with her earlier that day. Her eyes frosted over.

Amara shot him a dirty look. What convenience? He was blatantly trying to seduce her, fully weaponizing his handsome face and flawless body.

She took a seat beside him, mentally shrugging it off. Fine, be half-naked. It's not every day you get a front-row seat to abs like that anyway.

She sneaked a few appreciative glances when he wasn't looking, then squeezed out the ointment, forcing herself into a strictly professional mode.

Applying the soothing gel to a cotton swab, she gently dabbed it along the edges of the gash.

Up close, the reality of the injury sank in. The cut was deep and brutally long, spanning at least six inches across his skin.

Amara paused, concern creasing her brow. "We should really go to the ER. This definitely needs stitches."