---
— Continuation of [FLASHBACK] Chapter 55 —
POV Jackson
The sound of the car's engine faded into the distance.
And with it—
Avery.
Silence returned.
Brutal.
But it didn't last.
In the distance—
sirens.
Faint at first.
Then clearer.
Closer.
I turned my head slightly.
The bluish flashing lights were already reflecting between the trees.
Damn it.
My brain didn't even hesitate.
Not after what had happened with Kevin.
I turned around without thinking and headed for my car. My movements were fast, precise. Too controlled to be natural.
I got in.
Slammed the door.
Started the engine.
One single thought looped over and over:
Don't be here when they arrive.
Not again.
Not like this.
The sheriff was already on my trail.
I'd seen it in his eyes.
The doubt.
And now—
if he found me here.
Again.
At the scene of a crime where I'd been the night before.
It would only fuel his suspicions of me.
I gripped the wheel and left the main street without looking back.
I took another route.
Longer.
Less direct.
But safer.
To avoid the flashing lights.
Avoid the questions.
Avoid the stares.
---
The drive stretched on.
Too long.
Too silent.
And my mind—
refused to be quiet.
The images kept coming back.
On a loop.
Avery.
The knife.
Her fear.
Then—
that scene.
Impossible.
Her throat.
That invisible pressure.
And him.
Gabriel.
Because yes—
now he had a name.
And that didn't make any of it more normal.
Nothing did.
I kept replaying the way he moved.
Too fast.
Too sure.
As if he already knew.
As if he'd already seen this before.
Or worse—
as if he knew exactly what he was dealing with.
I gripped the wheel harder.
And the insignia.
I could still feel it.
In my pocket.
Heavy.
Impossible.
Our insignia.
My family's.
In his hands.
Why him?
How?
Since when?
And Avery—
at the center of all of it.
Again.
Always.
As if everything led back to her.
As if she were—
the point where it all converged.
A breath passed through my lips.
None of it made sense.
But it was all connected.
I was sure of it.
---
The headlights lit up an intersection.
Empty.
Silent.
I barely slowed down—
and had to brake hard.
A car had just pulled in front of me.
Sideways across the road.
Clean.
Blocking the way.
My heart jumped.
Damn it.
I recognized the vehicle immediately.
No need to see the logo.
No need to think.
Sheriff.
Of course.
Obviously.
The timing was perfect.
I stayed still for a few seconds.
Engine running.
Eyes fixed ahead.
Run?
Impossible.
That would only make me look more suspicious.
So I cut the engine.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
As if every movement were being watched.
Because it was.
The car door opened.
An officer stepped out.
Calm.
Unhurried.
As if he already knew he didn't need to rush.
I tracked his every movement.
Without moving.
Without blinking.
He approached my car.
Step by step.
My jaw tightened.
I rolled down the window before he even reached me.
Anticipation.
Control.
Always.
He leaned in slightly.
— Jackson.
Not a question.
A statement.
I held his gaze.
— Officer.
My voice was steady.
Perfectly steady.
Too steady.
A silence passed between us.
Short.
But heavy.
His eyes briefly swept the inside of the car.
Analyzing.
Details.
Always the details.
Then they came back to me.
— Seems like you have a gift for being in the wrong place.
I let a second pass.
No more.
— Or maybe the place where something's happening.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Unconvinced.
Not fooled.
— Where are you coming from?
Simple question.
Risky answer.
I shrugged slightly.
— I was driving.
Vague.
Deliberately.
His gaze didn't move.
— Headed where?
I held steady.
Without blinking.
— Home.
A beat.
The silence tightened.
The officer never took his eyes off me.
Not for a second.
As if he were waiting.
For a slip.
A detail.
Something.
Me—
I didn't move.
Then the crackle of a radio cut sharply through the silence.
Shrill.
Abrupt.
His gaze flicked briefly to his shoulder.
— …
He didn't answer right away.
Listened.
For a long while.
Too long.
Then he stepped back, without turning away from me, and headed toward his car.
But his gaze—
stayed locked on mine.
Even at a distance.
Even moving.
He finally raised the radio to his mouth.
— Yeah…
A pause.
— He's here.
My stomach knotted.
No need to think.
I knew.
He was talking about me.
A silence.
Then—
— Okay.
Short.
Clipped.
Final.
He came back toward me.
More direct.
More resolved.
He stopped at the door.
— Get out of the vehicle.
I tilted my head slightly.
— Why?
He didn't even bother hesitating.
— Sheriff's orders. You're coming with us.
The tone had changed.
Less neutral.
More… official.
I held his gaze.
— And why's that?
— He has questions for you.
Of course.
Again.
Always.
I let a second pass.
Calculated.
— I could take my car, then.
— No.
Immediate answer.
No room for argument.
— You're riding with us.
I clenched my jaw slightly.
— But—
— Don't worry.
He gave a hint of a smile.
Fake.
— Someone will come pick up your little baby.
His gaze flicked briefly to my car.
— Now, let's go.
A simple nod.
Invitation.
Or order.
Both.
I stayed still for a fraction of a second.
Just long enough to think.
Not long enough to resist.
Because resisting—
would be a mistake.
So I cut the engine.
Got out.
Locked it.
My movements were calm.
My breathing too.
Everything was.
On the surface.
I followed him.
Without a word.
---
The drive to the station passed in an almost surreal silence.
No one spoke.
The radio crackled now and then.
Then nothing.
And I—
kept thinking.
Again.
Always.
They wouldn't have arrested me like this.
Not without reason.
The timing was too precise.
Someone had talked.
The neighbors.
Avery had been right — it must have been them who reported me.
And that didn't work in my favor.
---
The station came into view.
Cold lights.
Too white.
Too sharp.
I was made to get out.
No handcuffs.
Not yet.
But the intent—
was there.
Clear.
I was led inside.
Narrow hallways.
Closed doors.
Lingering looks.
Too lingering.
I wasn't left waiting.
Straight to—
the sheriff's office.
The door opened.
He was there.
Already seated.
As if he'd been expecting me.
Obviously.
— We meet again pretty soon, Jackson.
I closed the door behind me.
— Yeah.
A faint breath passed through my lips.
— Unfortunately.
A smile stretched across his lips.
Controlled.
Almost satisfied.
— If you need anything…
He gestured vaguely around the room.
— Water, food… something to drink.
I shook my head slightly.
— No thanks. I'm fine.
He nodded slowly.
As if noting that too.
— Okay. Suit yourself.
A silence.
Then—
— But I'll warn you.
He leaned forward slightly.
Elbows on the desk.
Eyes fixed on mine.
— This is probably going to take a while.
I didn't answer.
I didn't need to.
Because I already knew.
This wasn't simply about asking me questions.
---