Page 51 of Billionaire’s Heartbreak

All I could do was wait for Kai’s signal. Wait for Squirrel. Wait for someone else to decide what happened next.

I wasn’t built for waiting. I needed to do something. I needed to know that if things went wrong, I had a way out.

“Where’s Squirrel?” I asked.

Kai leaned against the counter. “Dannie said he’ll reach out when the time is right.”

“When the time is right?” I repeated, unable to hide my frustration. “So we’re just sitting here until someone decides to contact us?”

“Yes. We wait for the signal.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not sitting here like a duck waiting to get shot.”

He straightened from the counter. “June⁠—”

I ignored him and turned toward the security team.

One of the bodyguards stood near the entrance, watching us silently. “You,” I said, pointing at him. “Can you drive?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

Kai swore under his breath. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“You’re not going anywhere alone.”

“Good. I’ve got him.”

Kai stepped forward, his expression tightening. “June, stop. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I’m thinking perfectly fine,” I snapped.

That was the problem. Everyone thought I wasn’t fine. They looked at me like I might break, like exhaustion and fear had somehow made me incapable of making decisions for myself.

I wasn’t breaking. I was done waiting.

I walked out before Kai could say anything else, moving faster than I probably should have. I didn’t care whether the bodyguard had the keys or if there was even a car waiting. I just needed air. Space. Anything to get me out of that apartment that smelled like him.

By the time we reached the parking level, a car was already waiting. Of course it was. People like Kai never waited for things; things waited for him. The door opened before I even reached it, and I slid into the back seat.

“Where do you want to go?” the driver asked.

“Just drive.”

The car pulled into the street, and the city began sliding past the window, lights streaking across the glass while buildings passed too quickly for me to recognize. My head felt light again, not exactly dizzy, just empty, as though my brain wasn’t catching up with my body. I hadn’t eaten properly in days, not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t want to.

After a few minutes, I spotted a convenience store on the corner, its bright lights glowing against the grey afternoon.

“Here,” I said. “Stop here. Wait for me.”

“Cannot park here,” the driver said.

“Stop anyway.”

He hesitated, but I opened the door before the car had fully stopped and stepped out while it was still rolling.

Stupid. Dangerous. I didn’t care.