I'm In Love With My Bestfriend's Billionaire Fiance!
Chapter 107: Back In The Abbey...

Chapter 107: Back In The Abbey...

(Jace’s POV)

___________

No matter what I tried, though, the sedan was gone. As if it had never been there at all. And there was nothing I could do about it.

I stood frozen for a moment, my mind unwilling to accept the sudden absence. My eyes scanned the stretch of asphalt and cars beyond the plaza’s perimeter, desperate for even a glimpse of that distinctive frame. But it had vanished, swallowed whole by the ocean of vehicles that surged relentlessly down the city streets.

And yet... I was certain of what I had seen.

It reminded me of Casey. And Kira. It looked exactly like the kind of car they would drive—sophisticated, expensive, silent statements of power.

But something was off.

I narrowed my eyes, recalling the color. For Casey, it had been wrong. She would never choose that particular shade. Too pale, too revealing. Casey liked darker colors: blacks, deep steel blues, shadows masquerading as metal. Vehicles that whispered wealth instead of screaming it.

No. It wasn’t Casey’s.

Kira, though... it felt more like something she would drive.

I pursed my lips, frustration gnawing at me. When had I last seen Kira’s car? I racked my brain, sifting through blurry images: Kira laughing as she swung open her driver’s door; Kira tapping the roof impatiently while waiting for the valet; Kira’s slender fingers brushing over a scratch she swore she would fix—and never did.

That same scratch had marred the paint on the passenger side, a thin silver line like a scar. Had I seen it today? Had I missed it?

I sucked in a slow breath, my chest tightening. Nothing made sense anymore.

Just then, footsteps crunched behind me. I spun instinctively, my heart leaping into my throat.

"It’s all done," Ethan said casually, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Let’s go."

He had registered the SUV, making sure it wouldn’t be flagged or towed while we were away. It was a small thing, but in a day already spiraling into uncertainty, it was one less problem to worry about.

I nodded wordlessly, falling into step beside him.

We moved with purpose, slipping through the dense afternoon crowd that flooded the plaza’s exit. The sun beat down mercilessly, turning the concrete into a shimmering mirage. Vendors shouted over each other, hawking water, sunglasses, cheap toys. The thick press of bodies around us was overwhelming—shoulders brushed, elbows bumped, every accidental touch making my skin crawl.

It felt like we were trapped in a living maze, and every second spent in that crowd sent a fresh surge of panic through me.

Still, I forced myself to keep moving, head down, eyes darting.

At last, we broke free of the crush, stepping out into the open space beyond the plaza gates.

The air was hotter here, the sun unrelenting. The wide road stretched out before us, a river of roaring metal. Vehicles zipped past at breakneck speed—blurs of color and chrome, the smell of burning rubber and diesel thick in the air.

Ethan didn’t hesitate. He turned left, his voice low and urgent.

"This way."

I followed without question, my boots crunching over the broken sidewalk. We moved quickly, but not so fast as to draw attention—just two more weary pedestrians trying to get somewhere in the merciless heat.

The bus stop wasn’t far, just a few hundred feet up the road, half-shaded by a battered tin awning that flapped mournfully in the wind. A few others were already there—an old man with a battered suitcase, a woman balancing a baby on her hip, a group of teens laughing too loudly.

I kept my distance, my senses stretched tight.

Every passing car, every shifting shadow made my spine stiffen. I couldn’t shake the feeling—the same one I’d had in the garage, and again in the crowd—that we were being watched.

I glanced over my shoulder once, twice, my gaze scanning the plaza, the sidewalk, the endless flood of traffic.

Nothing.

No sign of the sedan. No sign of anyone watching.

And yet, the hairs at the back of my neck stood rigid. Instinct whispered that danger was still lurking—silent, patient, waiting for us to lower our guard.

The minutes dragged by like hours as we kept walking. The heat was oppressive, the tension thicker than the sweltering air. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling every bead of sweat on my skin, every breath scrape against my lungs.

Somewhere across the street, I thought I glimpsed movement—a shadow detaching itself from the wall of a convenience store, a figure briefly silhouetted against the glare. I turned at once, sure I was going to see someone lurking behind a parked car or a building.

I blinked.

Gone.

Was it real? Was it just my imagination?

I shook my head slightly, trying to dispel the creeping paranoia. I couldn’t afford to lose focus now. The sedan was nowhere in sight, I had to get it out of my mind. No one followed us, I had to accept that fact.

Nothing seemed amiss.

And yet, the unease coiled tighter around my chest with every passing second.

The real trouble, I knew, was not behind us.

It was ahead.

We made our way toward the bus stop, our steps were brisk, careful, and almost synchronized. A rhythm that we had gotten used to over the years of working together. I kept stealing glances over my shoulder, half-expecting to see that mysterious sedan lurking somewhere in the swirling haze of heat and dust.

But there was no sign of it. No sign of anything—just the ceaseless rush of traffic and the hollow noise of a city that never really slept.

Luck—or something like it—was on our side. A bus stood idling at the stop, its battered frame rattling with the effort of staying upright. The doors were open wide like a gaping mouth, and without a word, Ethan and I climbed aboard.

The minute I stepped in, I immediately knew I wouldn’t enjoy the ride.

The interior smelled of stale air and forgotten dreams. A handful of passengers slumped in their seats, gazing out of grimy windows, their expressions vacant. These were substandard buses, the kind that you would never catch in Silicon Valley. It seemed all the rejects of the Valley were sent to Parallel City and The Abbey. However, it had one redeeming quality: no one paid us any attention. Everyone was involved fully in their worlds, and they didn’t give two shits about us.

We found seats near the back, the cracked vinyl groaning beneath us. I stuck my hands deeper into the pockets of my hoodie, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. Every jolt of the bus sent a fresh jangle of nerves through my already frayed system.

The trip back to The Abbey was... uneventful. Tediously so.

The bus lumbered away from the city’s beating heart, dragging us toward the outskirts, where the buildings grew smaller and the roads more fractured. The chatter of the city faded into a low, droning hum, replaced by the rhythmic wheeze of the bus engine struggling against the endless stretches of potholed asphalt.

The further we traveled, the emptier the landscape became—fields of dry grass waving in the hot breeze, skeletal trees clawing at the sky.

I found myself fidgeting, tapping my foot against the grimy floor, unable to shake the sensation that we were slipping into another world entirely—one much older, rougher, and less forgiving.

At last, the bus shuddered to a halt at a desolate corner where the pavement simply crumbled away into dirt. The outskirts of Parallel City.

We climbed down, blinking against the sun’s fierce glare.

There weren’t many options out here. So, we flagged down a cab—a tiny, pitiful thing that rattled up the road like a drunk insect. Somehow, it looked even worse off than the bus we just alighted from. It made sense now; the Silicon Valley rejects were sent to Parallel City, then the City rejects were forwarded to The Abbey.

Where then did the Abbey rejects go? That was a question I wouldn’t mind getting an answer to.

The driver barely acknowledged us when we told him where we were going, he simply jerked his chin toward the backseat.

I hesitated for half a second, a sliver of doubt slicing through me, but Ethan had already pulled open the door and slid inside.

I followed, the door groaning shut behind me like a final warning.

The cab was a disaster. The seats were torn, stuffing spilling out like wounded flesh. The floorboards were littered with candy wrappers and cigarette butts. The faint scent of something rotten clung stubbornly to the cracked leather.

And the noise.

The engine howled and clattered like a tortured animal, every bump in the road making it sound moments away from disintegration. It was as if the entire vehicle was being held together by duct tape, rust, and desperate prayers.

My fingers curled into tight fists on my lap.

The driver said nothing, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white.

I didn’t feel safe. Not for a single second.

Every instinct screamed at me to get out—to run.

What if the driver wasn’t just a driver? What if he was working with someone? What if there were men waiting for us just around the bend, tucked into the shadows, ready to drag us into some nameless place from which we would never emerge?

What if this was it?

I glanced sideways at Ethan, who seemed unnervingly calm, staring out the window as if he were simply admiring the scenery.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, forcing the flood of dark thoughts back into the corner of my mind where they belonged.

Focus. Breathe. You can’t afford to lose it now.

The cab shuddered and groaned as it lurched forward, carrying us deeper into a neighborhood that seemed to belong to another era entirely.

The streets narrowed, the potholes grew wider, and the houses sagged on their foundations, their windows dark and empty. We were back in The Abbey.

Our destination wasn’t far off now.

I recognized the twisted metal street signs, the leaning telephone poles, the broken sidewalks littered with fragments of forgotten lives.

Finally, the cab sputtered to a halt in front of Vic’s street, tires crunching over gravel and glass.

Ethan paid the driver without a word.

The man gave a slight nod, then peeled away from the curb with a roar, the cab fishtailing slightly before disappearing around the corner.

We stood there for a moment, blinking in the sudden silence.

The heat pressed down on us like a heavy hand.

The air here was different—heavier, almost oily, carrying with it the faint scent of rust and decay. It clung to the back of my throat, sour and unclean.

And everything looked... wrong.

Every car parked along the curb was coated in a thick layer of dust, their tires deflated, their mirrors cracked or missing entirely. In the yards, skeletal frames of once-proud vehicles sat rusting into oblivion, forgotten by time and man alike. Nothing here felt alive.

It was as if the entire street had been abandoned by the living and left to rot in the sun. Yet, I could still see proof of life. In the windows, I could see human shadows, I could hear low voices. Despite all these, people lived here.

I tugged my hoodie tighter around me, my nerves jangling like exposed wires.

It was a good call not to bring the SUV. Too flashy. Too noticeable. In a place like this, it would’ve been like painting a target on our backs.

But even on foot, I couldn’t shake the feeling that eyes were watching us.

Hidden behind cracked blinds.

Peering out from darkened windows.

Waiting.

I caught Ethan’s eye. He gave a slight nod—he felt it too.

Without a word, we turned and started down the street, our steps slow, deliberate, each footfall echoing in the eerie stillness.

Ahead, Vic’s place loomed.

And whatever waited inside—or around it—wasn’t going to be good.

But we had come so far, so we were ready for that.

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