Atticus's POV

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"Where are you going?" Damon asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice, as I hastily grabbed my keys from the counter.

He had just returned from dropping Anya home.

"I need to clear my head." I lie.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He offers.

"To keep you company. I'll be quiet, I swear."

I shake my head, "This is something I want to do alone "

He nods, "Just know I'm one call away if you need me."

I don't wait for him to say anything else. I was desperate to find the truth, and since no one was willing to tell me, I had to do all the digging on my own.

There's only one place where they could be able to hide the truth. And that's the warehouse where they kept all of the magazines.

I was sure there had to be at least one that could tell me everything I needed to know.

The problem was breaking into it. No one would let me inside without causing a scene. But I knew at least one person would accept a bribe from me. That’s why I had a good amount of cash with me.

Everyone is supposed to be home by now, everyone except the guards.

Once I got through to the main guard, everything else would be more accessible.

I pressed down firmly on the accelerator, but a sharp memory from the day of the accident surged. Swiftly, I hit the brakes, guiding the vehicle to the side of the road to regain composure, before I had lost my control of the vehicle.

What the hell was that? I tried to replay the five seconds of memory over and over again.

I was racing after a vehicle on that day. I clutched my chest at the pain I felt at the reminder.

It wasn't anything significant, but it was enough to make me wonder what the hell had genuinely happened on that day.

Why was I racing after a vehicle?

No one mentioned that to me, but they hadn't mentioned anything at all about that day.

Autumn had asked me once if the accident traumatized me, and my answer was no.

Now, I wasn't sure that was the correct answer. It was the first time I'd chosen to drive this fast since the accident, and I wasn't expecting to have this kind of reaction.

It meant that I was speeding that day the crash took place. Even if I was speeding, I always thought I was a good driver. I should have been able to stop the vehicle. Nothing about that day made sense to me. Something had to have caused the accident.

But what was it?

I pulled back onto the road, I couldn't let this stop me from finding the truth. It's not like I could ask anyone for help, no one would do it.

I chose to drive slower, I hoped that would help with the unsettling feeling in my chest.

It takes longer than it should for me to reach my destination.

I park the car on the side of the building and found the guards at the main entrance.

"Sir, Do you have written permission to be here?" One of them asks.

"No," I answer honestly. "But I have plenty of cash to give to you if you let me through and keep this just between the four of us."

They looked at each other skeptically, and I pulled the money out of the car as proof.

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