Page 68 of Carved Obsession

“Where are you going?” I whisper to myself.

Scarlet’s father steps out of his car, hood pulled well over his eyes as he takes a left and disappears between two towering buildings.

I look for Scarlet, who parked a couple cars back from him on the same street, but she makes no attempt to climb out or follow.

What’s happening here?

Pulling my phone out, I open the maps app, hoping that one bar of signal can do the job and update my location, but that damn loading wheel keeps going and going, and a familiar strain tugs at my temples.

I could turn on my dashboard and access the car’s GPS, but that damn thing will light me up like a Christmas tree and risk attracting attention. In a flash, the map on my phone jumps and the location updates just as a bright beam lights up the night before me.

“Shit!” I drop the phone on the passenger seat when Scarlet’s car joins the main road, following her father’s vehicle.

Whatever they were doing, they were damn fast.

I stay as far away as I can, following them back to where they left their cars, and the road becomes familiar once they make the switch. We’re heading back to Queenscove.

Only, as they pull onto the main road and reach the first junction, Scarlet’s father drives in the expected direction, but not her. She makes a left instead, and I don’t even debate my next step. I follow her, wondering where she could possibly be going now, well after midnight.

Unless she’s seeing a man.

Maybe that’s where she went after she left me in front of the coffee shop, and why I couldn’t find her until she went home tonight, too happy and excited.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel, chest strained, as tension builds between my brows.

No, no way. There was no indication in all the digging I’ve done about any other new boyfriend since her separation.

She could have found one since.

This bothers me so much more than it should. The idea of her with another man brings a strange, empty-yet-overflowing sickly sensation in my stomach. The idea of Scarlet with another man simply doesn’t fit. It can’t.

She fucking can’t.

I keep following the woman, trying to figure out where I’m being led. I’ve never been around here, but it looks like she knows exactly where she’s going, taking deliberate turns along the way.

We’re well out of the city now, the roads quiet, thick clouds closing in and swallowing the moonlight.

I’m staying as far back as I can, but Scarlet speeds up dangerously. She races into the distance and takes the next left, about a quarter of a mile out.

“She knows. Fuck!” I snap at myself. My foot sinks onto the gas pedal to catch up to her.

No point in hiding anymore. Clearly, I haven’t done a great job at it.

Her car is fast, though, and by the time I get remotely close to her, we’re driving through a lush laurel forest, the darkness thick as smoke here.

I’m about to be thankful she’s still sticking to the main road when the reckless woman takes a sharp right and disappears down a forest track, headlights flashing between the trees.

The moment I turn onto the track, lightning cuts across the dark sky like an omen, illuminating the menacing clouds.

One, two, three, fo—

Thunder shatters the night, its boom swallowing my engine’s rumble moments before thick ribbons of rain drench my windshield. I almost skid, startled by the sudden downpour, but Scarlet hasn’t really slowed down.

I’m driving like a maniac to keep up with her, the bumper and underside shield scraping over the mounds in the middle of the road created by years of heavy vehicles running through.

Yet, it’s her I’m more worried about. A crippling thought pierces my mind—she doesn’t know who she’s running from. If panic or fear kick-started the need to escape, she could make mistakes in this worsening weather.

I need to stop this.