Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 409

He slammed his foot down on the gas.

Before Mila could make sense of what was happening, the sports car shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow. The speed was unreal. With the car rocketing down the road, she found herself pressed tightly against the man’s chest, the roar of the wind screaming past her ears.

She could feel it—he was losing control.

…

The sports car tore down the deserted highway, a pack of motorcycles in hot pursuit. Behind them, a scattered convoy of luxury cars struggled to regroup after being forced off course. The whole stretch of road was a mess—chaos and blaring music trailing in their wake.

Huddled against his chest, Mila couldn’t see that as their car cleared a side street, another group of bikers burst out from the alley—this time, barreling straight into the pursuing motorcade and breaking up the chase in an instant.

But the sports car only accelerated.

Way too fast.

Mila’s heart pounded so wildly she thought it might burst. She wanted to scream for him to slow down, but the words caught in her throat. For a dizzy moment, she thought the car was actually about to take flight.

In shock, she lifted her head, pupils blown wide.

That’s when she saw it.

Somehow, they’d made it all the way to the harbor. The car was barreling straight for a cargo ship anchored at the dock. Instead of slowing, he aimed for the metal ramp the crew had lowered, gunning the engine as if he meant to launch them right onto the deck.

Mila went numb with terror.

At this speed, they’d crash right through the railing and into the sea—he had to be out of his mind!

She opened her mouth to protest, but just then the car jolted. The wild acceleration suddenly eased, the vehicle shuddering as a drag parachute deployed from the rear, yanking them back and slowing their momentum just enough to make the ramp. The car bounced up onto the ship.

It wasn’t over yet.

They hit a series of thick rubber strips that had been set out like speed bumps, the shocks reverberating through the cabin until the car finally slammed into the safety barrier, grinding to a stop on the deck.

Francis, hands still gripping the wheel, barely waited for the car to settle before letting out a wild laugh and pounding his fist on the dashboard. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! Damn, that felt good!”

It had been ages since he’d driven like that.

If they weren’t running for their lives, he’d have turned around and done it all over again.

Francis was riding the high, but Mila was in agony. The violent jolts had reopened wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal. The pain and dizziness overwhelmed her, and she blacked out.

“Mila!”

…

“Sir, the ship’s gone.”

Back on the island, a blond man addressed Cossio, still standing before the ruined church. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop them.”

Cossio shook his head, expression calm.

“If you’d just stayed by my side like I asked, not always fighting me at every turn, none of this would’ve happened. Darling, will you be good for me now?”

His voice was equal parts exasperation and tenderness.

He traced her cheek with his thumb, savoring the soft, pale skin he’d barely dared to touch, then let his hand drift to her lips, caressing them gently. He leaned in, unable to resist, when the cabin door burst open.

“How is she? Is she alright?”

Francis rushed in, then froze at the sight of Lysander’s hand on Mila’s lips, eyes going wide. “Whoa, hold on—you animal! She’s still hurt, you know!”

Lysander drew a deep breath and rose, face blank. He grabbed Francis by the arm, marched him out of the cabin, and slammed the door behind them. Then, without warning, he whacked Francis hard on the shoulder. “I haven’t even started with you yet. What the hell were you thinking, driving like a maniac?”

Francis looked wounded. “Hey, don’t put this all on me! You’re the one who told me to floor it, to go all out—don’t you dare blame me now!”

Lysander gritted his teeth, but a smile tugged at his lips.

They’d been friends for years, and Francis could read that dangerous look in his eyes. He shivered and tried to bolt, but Lysander grabbed him again.

“Mad at me? Good. Here’s your chance—let’s settle it.” His mood was dark and he needed an outlet, so ignoring Francis’s protests, Lysander dragged him off toward the ship’s gym.

Behind the closed cabin door,

Mila slowly opened her eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling above her. But her gaze was clear—wide awake, and thinking.