Chapter 228

Lucas's POV

I bolted from the grand ballroom, my footsteps echoing across the floor. The valet had my car waiting. Every red light felt like an eternity as I kept hitting Serena's number. Straight to voicemail. Every. Single. Time.

PDX. She had to be heading to PDX airport. I pressed harder on the accelerator, weaving through the late-night traffic.

That's when I heard it - the unmistakable sound of metal crushing metal somewhere ahead. I cut off my latest attempt to reach her and accelerated toward the sound. Through the traffic, I spotted Atticus's black Bentley being pursued by several dark vehicles.

Even with the car's engine roaring, I couldn't close the gap. They were heading toward the cliffs, taking the winding roads at dangerous speeds. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles went white.

Another crash echoed through the night. Damn it - I couldn't see past the three cars between us. The sounds of impact kept coming, each one making my chest tighter.

When I finally got a clear view, my world stopped. Atticus's car smashed through the guardrail, plummeting into the darkness below.

"NO!" I was howling with heartbreaking anguish.

The pursuing vehicles - black Escalades, I realized now - peeled away, their tires screeching as they disappeared into the night. The silence that followed was deafening. No more crashes. No engines. No sirens yet. Nothing.

I slammed on the brakes, leaving my car askew across the lanes. I didn't even bother closing the door as I ran to the edge. The rocky slope was treacherous - my shoes slipped, and I went tumbling down after them.

My shoulder slammed into a boulder, sending shooting pain through my arm. Probably dislocated, but I couldn't care less. I stumbled to my feet, my vision swimming. The world spun, but I forced myself forward. My suit was shredded, my hands bloody from catching myself on rocks, but none of it mattered.

I lost my footing countless times on the treacherous slope before I finally reached the wreck. The Mercedes was barely recognizable. The darkness was absolute, but my phone's flashlight cut through it. For a moment, my finger hovered over the button. What would I see?

Fighting back tears, I switched it on. The beam revealed Atticus and Serena, pinned in the crushed cabin. Blood streaked their faces, and the deployed airbags obscured most of their bodies. Internal injuries could be...

"Serena."

I kept my voice soft, though everything in me wanted to scream. God, just let her open her eyes. She could hate me - should hate me - but please, just let her be alive.

"Serena..." My voice cracked. "Come on, sweetheart, give me something. Anything."

That's when Atticus stirred, his forehead creasing. His eyes fluttered against the light. Between the darkness and probable concussion, he shouldn't have been able to recognize me, but something - maybe my shaking voice - gave me away.

"Lucas?" The name came out as barely a whisper, nearly lost in the sound of distant traffic from the highway above.

Serena's POV

"Serena!" Atticus's voice cut through the haze.

I felt suspended in a surreal moment, as if watching myself from outside my own body. The luxury car interior - which had felt so familiar just moments ago - now seemed alien and distorted.

Reality slammed back with brutal force. Pain radiated through my body, and I forced my eyes open against the glare of emergency lights that had automatically activated. My watch had shattered, its face reflecting fractured beams across the crumpled dashboard.

"How are you holding up?" Atticus asked, his voice tight with strain.

I tried to speak, my throat raw. "I'm okay," I managed. "You?"

"I'm fine," Atticus replied, then added meaningfully, "Lucas is here." His eyes flickered toward approaching flashlight beams.

I glanced in that direction. I was stunned to see Lucas here. After everything we'd been through, I never expected he would be the one to come to our rescue. All the bitterness I'd harbored towards him seemed to melt away in that moment.

"I'm getting you both out." Lucas's voice carried that familiar authority and a hint of tremble.

Lucas placed his phone on a stable surface, its flashlight providing additional illumination as he assessed the mangled door. Despite his considerable strength, the crushed metal wouldn't yield. Even in my dazed state, I noticed his suit was already discarded, his shirt sleeves rolled up to expose muscled forearms.

"Cover your faces. I'm breaking the glass." His words were precise, measured. The laminated safety glass was already compromised, but not enough to allow escape.

Atticus and I ducked down. Through my blurred vision, I watched Lucas methodically clear the remaining glass. Blood began seeping through his white shirt sleeve, but his breathing remained steady, controlled. A bittersweet ache bloomed in my chest, tears threatening to spill. My past behavior collided with overwhelming gratitude, creating a storm of emotions I could barely contain.

"Your hand, Serena." His command snapped me back to reality. I struggled to move past the deployed airbag, my gown catching on twisted metal. When our hands met, they were slick with what could have been either of our blood.

"The seatbelt," I gasped, recognizing the leather was jammed in its mechanism.

Lucas immediately maneuvered into the car beside me, his presence filling the confined space. He worked to free the seatbelt, his watch scraping against metal as he maneuvered in the tight space.

"You smell that?" Atticus's voice took on a new urgency.

I inhaled carefully, my eyes meeting his across the crushed center console. "Gas!" we shouted simultaneously.

The implications were immediate - ruptured fuel tank, the vehicle crashed off the road, electrical systems still active. I saw the same rapid assessment cross Lucas's face as he intensified his efforts on the seatbelt. The mechanism finally gave way with a sharp crack that sent him back against the door frame, but he recovered instantly.

Lucas held me tightly as he tried to pull me out. I clenched my jaw, but my body trembled from the pain.

Something was pinning down my right leg. Every time Lucas tried to pull, the pain intensified, sending sharp waves through my body.

I could tell Lucas was being careful - he was afraid of causing more damage if he used too much force. The last thing either of us wanted was for my injuries to become worse.

"Where are you stuck?" Lucas asked, his voice low and deep.

We were pressed so close together that I could feel his labored breathing and his racing heartbeat against my chest. There was no hiding his anxiety - it was raw and unmasked in that moment.

"Right side," I managed to say through gritted teeth. "Lower leg."