Chapter Sixteen

I saw it happen in slow motion.

Amery stepped out of her car, confused—her face, panicked and drenched in terror—walking to observe the car like it was just another ordinary accident.

I can still recall her laughter, the way she would pout and call herself crazy, especially when her car mishaps went unappreciated. To her, she was the ultimate car savant, a passionate enthusiast who understood the machine better than anyone else. That sound was like wind chimes dancing in the breeze. Then, right before my eyes, it unfolded. It was nothing like the memories replaying in my mind, flashing vividly from a mere reflection. This reality was different.

It was worse.

I couldn’t scream; my throat felt numb from the drugs Willow had injected into me before she let me go earlier today. I was under her control, and she had no reason to worry because she was always watching me. No matter where I was or who I was with, she kept her eyes on me. All I could do was present her with what she wanted to see.

It was me, hiding in the shadows, desperately wishing to be with my wife.

The horrified scream left Amery, and I could do nothing.

I yearned to run, or at the very least, walk towards her—anything to be near her—but I found myself frozen in place. It felt as if my feet were stuck to the ground. I was ensnared in this miserable existence of being Amir Rowan. He was completely worthless. I was completely worthless. I had let her down.

I failed her.

She didn’t see it coming. Nor did I. I didn’t even have time to scream, to shout a warning. It all happened so fast.

A car. A dark sedan. Its headlights blinding. The tires screeching, the engine roaring like a beast on the hunt. Then— BAM —the sickening, brutal impact. Her body fell on the ground and the rear of her car crashed into the hood like a ragdoll. She crumpled on the street with a sound that rings in my ears. A crunch. A sickening, wet crunch.

I should’ve screamed, I should’ve run. But my legs were made of stone, my lungs empty. I was pinned behind that corner, hidden in the shadow of the alleyway. I couldn't move. Couldn’t breathe. I just... watched.

Her body, crumpled and twisted at the corner of the road over the pavement. My chest tightened so painfully I thought I might collapse. My pulse thudded in my throat. My stomach churned. She was... she was barely moving. Just lying there, as if the world had swallowed her whole.

No. No. No, not Amery. Not my wife.

I wanted to run to her. To scoop her up, to hold her, to scream at her to get up. But my legs didn’t listen. They stayed rooted to the ground, frozen, like a terrified animal in a cage watching its dead prey. My head felt light, dizzy. I tried to call out her name, but nothing came out. My throat was raw.

Amery's eyes were open, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was staring up at the sky, blinking rapidly like she didn’t know where she was, what had just happened. I couldn’t see, but I knew that stoic look, the confusion in her eyes, the shock, the disbelief. Her lips were parted, like she was trying to say something, but no sound escaped her.

Then Reese.

She came like a storm, and sprinted to Amery’s side. Yet, I couldn’t help feeling miserable.

That bitch Willow made me watch it on purpose, and it was a calculated move to threaten me for escaping last time. She hit me where it hurt the most, using my wife to pull at my leash and remind me that I was nothing but her dog. Just her toy, nothing but her plaything, someone she uses for her own pleasure, fucks him and keeps nearby out of sheer selfishness.

Tears trickled down my cheeks as I observed. She didn’t budge, and with each passing second, my fear deepened.

Reese was there, kneeling next to Amery, her hands shaking as she gently touched Amery’s shoulder. She was frantic, her shoulder strained with panic as she checked Amery’s pulse. She was saying something, words that I couldn’t hear over the ringing in my ears. Please, please be okay, I thought. Please don’t be—

I saw Reese’s hands tremble as she pressed one to Amery’s chest, trying to feel for any sign of life. Her face was pale, her lips pressed tight, but her movements were quick, urgent. I couldn’t see any blood at first, no gaping wounds, no sign that the hit had torn through her skin. I didn’t see anything too severe, and for that, I was grateful.

Please, God, don’t let her be hurt badly. Please.

Reese was talking to her now, her voice low and soft, as if trying to soothe Amery in her dazed state. She must’ve been in shock, her mind still trying to catch up with the pain. I couldn't hear her words, but I could see the desperation in her face. And still, I stood there—frozen, incapable of moving, of helping. A coward in a corner, watching the woman I loved struggle in the aftermath of something I couldn’t stop.

I couldn’t see any major wounds. No blood pooling on the ground, no limbs bent at unnatural angles. There was nothing I could see that screamed danger, nothing I could immediately identify as life-threatening. But that didn’t matter. The fear gnawed at me, the unknown terror of not knowing what was happening to her inside, under the skin. Was she bleeding internally? Had her spine snapped? Was she in more pain than she let on, her body too numb to respond?

I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t know.

I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms, but I still couldn’t move. I was paralyzed, caught between the helplessness of watching and the rage that burned in my chest. Anger at myself, at Willow, at the world for allowing this to happen. How could this happen? How could I be standing here, watching her... and not be able to help?

“Amery, stay with me,” I heard Reese whisper, finally and I nearly choked on my own breath. The way she said it, so raw and vulnerable, like her voice was all that was keeping Amery tethered to the world. “Please, stay with me.”

And then I saw Amery blink again, slowly. Her hand moved, twitching, and for a brief moment, I thought— she’s going to be okay.

Reese looked over her shoulder, her eyes frantic, and finally, finally, I saw her reaching into her pocket, pulling out her phone, dialing for help. I wanted to run to her, to grab her and shake her, to demand answers, to tell her to hurry up, but I couldn’t.

What I could do was… Just stand there.

I could only watch as I waited for help to come.

I failed to protect her. I failed my wife.