Alyse sprinted out of the hotel's back alley and dove into the back seat of the waiting black sedan.
"Drive. Now," she ordered, her voice like cracking ice.
The sedan shot forward like an arrow, tearing into the dark Manhattan streets. Alyse leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, forcing her racing heart to slow down.
But Godfrey hadn't given up. He had thrown his driver out of the Maybach and taken the wheel himself. Like a vengeful ghost, the massive black car locked onto the back of Alyse's sedan.
The two cars engaged in a terrifying, high-speed chase down the empty midnight highway. The roar of the Maybach's engine echoed through the streets like a wild beast.
Sweat poured down the face of Alyse's driver. He checked his rearview mirror constantly. "Ma'am, he's too fast. I can't shake him."
Suddenly, the Maybach surged forward. With a violently dangerous swerve, Godfrey cut directly in front of the sedan and slammed on the brakes.
The screech of burning rubber filled the air. The two cars skidded to a violent halt on a desolate stretch of highway near the Long Island coast.
The massive force of the stop threw Alyse forward. The seatbelt dug painfully into her shoulder. She jerked her head up, glaring at the car in front of her.
Godfrey shoved his door open. He stepped out into the freezing wind, radiating a terrifying mix of cold air and explosive rage. He marched straight toward Alyse's car.
He didn't care about the driver's warnings. He slammed his fist against Alyse's window. The heavy thud echoed over the sound of the crashing waves nearby.
"Get out!" he yelled.
Knowing she couldn't avoid it, Alyse took a deep breath and pushed her door open. The violent ocean wind instantly whipped her hair across her pale face.
"Are you out of your mind?" Alyse stared at the deranged man in front of her, her voice thin against the wind.
Godfrey grabbed both of her shoulders and slammed her back against the side of the car. The deafening crash of the ocean waves barely covered the sound of his heavy, ragged breathing.
"I just want a real answer," he said. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice sounding like he had swallowed broken glass. "What was our five years of marriage to you? What was it?!"
Alyse looked at his tortured face. Deep inside, the scar left by Cathleen's betrayal and the near-loss of her mother's patent throbbed with pain. But she couldn't tell him.
She forced the perfect mask of cruelty onto her face.
She looked him dead in the eye and spoke slowly. "It was a nightmare. A nightmare I couldn't wait to wake up from."
The words acted like a poisoned dagger, plunging straight into Godfrey's heart. His entire body began to tremble.
He lost his mind. He leaned in, desperate to kiss her, to force her to feel something, to prove she was lying.
Suddenly, a blinding set of high beams cut through the darkness from the end of the highway.
Tracking the live GPS signal Alyse had sent him earlier that evening, a silver Aston Martin drifted around the curve with a screech and slammed to a halt right next to them. Guthrie stepped out of the car.
He wore a casual trench coat, but his eyes were lethal. He radiated absolute, untouchable protection.
He walked straight up to Godfrey, clamped his hand around Godfrey's wrist, and violently ripped him away from Alyse's shoulders. Guthrie stepped between them, shielding Alyse.
"Forcing yourself on a woman isn't very gentlemanly, Mr. Hammond," Guthrie said. His voice was smooth, but it carried a deadly warning.
Godfrey stared at the man who had been plastered all over Alyse's rumors. The "soulmate." The rage boiled over.
Godfrey twisted his arm free, grabbed Guthrie by the collar, and pulled his fist back, ready to shatter the man's jaw.
"Enough!" Alyse's sharp, furious voice cut through the air.
She stepped out from behind Guthrie. Her eyes were completely dead as she looked at Godfrey. "When are you going to stop throwing tantrums?"
Then, she turned to Guthrie. The hard, freezing lines of her face instantly melted into a soft, gentle expression.
"Let's go," she whispered to Guthrie.
The brutal difference in how she treated them was the final straw that broke Godfrey's sanity.
His hands fell to his sides. He stood there, completely paralyzed, watching Alyse slide into the passenger seat of Guthrie's car. She didn't look back at him. Not even once.
The silver sports car tore off into the night, leaving nothing but exhaust fumes and the howling wind.
Godfrey stood alone on the empty highway. He felt like a hollow shell, completely swallowed by the massive, freezing darkness.
