The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 48

When they were kids, she never would have guessed he’d grow up and, out of nowhere, shamelessly announce he liked her.

Owen still had that playful look on his face. He grinned and asked, “So, I heard Franco’s guards aren’t outside Hassan’s hospital room anymore. Want me to take care of him for you?”

Petty felt her heart pounding, blood rushing in her ears.

Franco’s people had been standing guard outside Hassan’s door for days. Now they were gone. Did that mean Hassan was better? Was he about to be discharged?

She couldn’t shake the memory of him being dragged into an alley and beaten. The fear crept up her spine, cold and sharp.

But she had already made up her mind. She was heading to Everell as a foreign correspondent. With less than two months before she left, she couldn’t risk getting mixed up in anything that might mess up her clearance.

“Who you deal with is your business, not mine.”

She spun around, climbed into the news van, and slammed the door shut.

It was lunchtime, so Petty and her coworkers headed to the station cafeteria. As she got out of the van, swinging her bag over her shoulder and helping carry some equipment, an engine’s roar split the air.

A red sports car barreled past her, missing her by inches.

It circled her, the window rolling down to reveal a face she knew too well. Bandages around his head. A sneer on his lips. His eyes, cold and cruel, locked on her like he wanted to rip her apart.

Petty’s hands clenched tight.

Hassan.

The car revved, then shot away, leaving tire marks and the smell of exhaust behind.

Petty’s fingers, wrapped around her keys, were ice-cold.

No matter where she went, Hassan always seemed to be there, haunting her. Was he following her? No, it was worse. Hassan was a natural-born tormentor. He had a hundred ways to break someone down. He wanted to toy with her, to keep showing up until the fear drove her crazy.

That night, her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Notifications kept popping up, one after another, making it impossible to sleep.

Petty finally switched on her bedside lamp and checked her phone, eyes barely open.

Her department’s chat and every reporter group she was in had blown up, hundreds of unread messages.

She clicked open the first one. Her hand froze.

Hassan was dead.