Chapter 149

• Jeremy slunk into the dimly lit back booth of a nondescript diner on the city's edge, the kind of place where fluorescent lights buzzed like trapped flies and the air hung heavy with grease and forgotten dreams. He'd texted Anastasia the moment he slipped away from the hospital shadows, his knuckles still raw from clenching in fury. She arrived minutes later, her designer coat draped over one arm, blonde waves pulled into a severe ponytail that sharpened her already lethal features. Her eyes scanned the room like a predator's before locking on him, and she slid into the booth opposite, nails drumming an impatient rhythm on the scarred Formica table.
• "Talk," she hissed, her voice low and edged with ice, leaning forward so close he could smell her expensive perfume—jasmine laced with venom. "You said it was urgent. What the hell happened after the truck missed? Don't waste my time, Jeremy."
• He leaned in too, elbows planted, his rumpled jacket straining at the seams. A smirk tugged at his lips, but his eyes burned with dark purpose. "Oh, it's better than a miss. I overheard Gold at the hospital—Charlotte and that bastard Ryan, spilling everything like idiots. Daisy's alive, Anastasia. Not dead like we thought. Ryan's got her stashed somewhere safe, hidden from 'all of this.' Coma or not, the little brat's breathing."