Audrina POV:

Susan ended up at the Flint Gateway Motel, the only decent lodging in town according to Mike. She stood in the lobby on the cheap, patterned carpet, her face a mask of absolute disgust. She looked like a spoiled queen forced to sleep in a dirty stable.

She booked two rooms, tossing one of the key cards at me like a cheap coin to a beggar before stalking off to her own room without another word. I caught the key card smoothly. Watching her stiff back, I knew she was in for a miserable, sleepless night. That was satisfying enough for me.

My room smelled of harsh disinfectant and dampness. I took a long, hot shower, washing away the grime of the day and the lingering, suffocating shadows of my past life.

The rain began to soften into a steady drizzle, but a gnawing hunger started in my stomach. I decided to find the motel's vending machine. I pulled the hood of my faded sweatshirt over my head, shoved my hands deep into my pockets, and walked along the second floor outdoor corridor.

The lights were flickering and dim, the air cold and clean after the heavy rain. As I rounded a sharp corner, I heard voices.

Two men were leaning against the rusty railing, smoking. One of them had a light, playful voice. "Archer, are you sick in the head? You could be in a five star hotel in Boston, but instead, you are here in this hellhole, getting rained on."

The other voice was lower, a smooth, deep, and incredibly dangerous rumble with a lazy edge. "Shut up, Kennedy."

I froze for a second. Archer. The name felt strangely familiar, but I could not immediately place it.

I kept walking toward the glowing vending machine, but I could feel a heavy, piercing pair of eyes on my back. The gaze was sharp and intensely focused, exactly like a top predator tracking its prey in the dark. A sudden shiver went down my spine, and my entire body tensed.

I quickened my pace, pretending to study the selection of chips and candy bars. From the corner of my eye, I saw the blond man, Kennedy, walk away. The tall, dark figure remained, still leaning against the railing.

He was wearing a black hoodie, his frame lean but massively powerful. As the undisputed captain of Briar University's ice hockey team, his athletic build was intimidating. Even in the dim light, he had an undeniable, oppressive presence. He was watching me.

I bought a bottle of water and turned to leave. The corridor was narrow, and the rain had made the concrete floor dangerously slick. As I tried to walk past him quickly with my head down, my worn sneaker slipped on a puddle.

I gasped, bracing for a painful fall. But before I could hit the ground, a large, incredibly strong arm shot out and wrapped firmly around my waist.

I crashed hard against a solid, muscular chest. The impact knocked the breath out of me. His large hand, heavily calloused from years of gripping a hockey stick, gripped my waist with a possessive, burning heat that seeped right through my thin sweatshirt. I was instantly enveloped in his scent, a sharp mix of mint, rain, and raw, intoxicating masculine pheromones. The physical contact sent a jolt of pure, electric tension straight to my core.

I snapped my head up and fell into a pair of ice blue eyes.

They were as deep and cold as the Arctic Ocean, yet they held a fierce, burning flicker of something else, a dark curiosity and an intense hunger I could not name. My heart skipped a heavy beat. The air between us seemed to crackle, suddenly hotter than the lightning storm. It was a raw, magnetic pull, a heavy, suffocating sexual tension that made my breath hitch.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice a husky vibration against my chest.

Our eyes held for a breathless second before I violently pushed myself out of his grip, tearing my gaze away, and hurried back to my room without a word.

Inside, I leaned against the locked door, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs. Those eyes... why did they feel so dangerously familiar?

Archer Black POV:

Down in the motel parking lot, sitting inside my matte black Audi RS7, I lowered my phone. My palm still tingled with the lingering warmth of her soft waist.

"Kennedy," I said to the blond man in the driver's seat, my voice laced with a dark, undeniable obsession. "Find out everything about the girl in room 207."

Ever since I was reborn, her face had haunted my every nightmare. In my past life, on that damned Interstate 90 highway, I was the one who pulled her fragile, blood soaked body from the twisted metal of that horrific crash. I knew she had sacrificed herself to save a mother who did not even care about her, spending a month in the ICU and ruining her brilliant hands. I had watched her suffer in my past life, unable to save her from the Morgan family's cruelty in time. But this time, God had given me a second chance. I had found her before the tragedy could happen.

There was no way in hell I was letting her slip through my fingers again.

I watched the rain wash over the dark windows of the motel. Tomorrow, she would be walking right into the viper's nest of the Morgan estate. I leaned back into the leather seat, a dark, predatory smirk curving my lips. I could not wait to see how my fierce little survivor planned to tear that perfect, fake family apart.