Samantha’s POV

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Standing right in front of me, was the Caveman.

I must’ve been hallucinating or something, because—what were the odds that the one person who would actually stop to help me when I was stranded would be no other person than Caveman himself?

“You’re… you’re alive?” I found myself stuttering.

His gaze swept over me once, slow and unimpressed, recognition flickering in his gaze as he slid his hands into his pockets. “Well I had no idea I was supposed to be dead.” His tone was flat, almost bored, like I’d interrupted his evening.

I parted my lips to speak, but no words came out so I closed them and tried again. “I… um… the news wasn’t saying anything about your condition and after I heard that you had a brain injury and you were out of danger but anything could still happen I—”

“Wait.” His voice cut through mine like a blade, his brows drawing together, sharp and suspicious. “You knew about my brain injury?”

Oh you’ve done it now, Sam.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “I… might’ve… overheard.”

His stare didn’t budge, so I caved, mentally preparing myself for the scene that was about to play out as I confessed my crimes.

“Fine,” I sighed, looking away from his gaze as I spoke. “I followed you to the hospital. Well… I lied to the paramedics that I was your childhood friend, and that was why your coach saw us talking backstage.” I inwardly winced at how stupid I sounded as I fiddled with my fingers.

“You did what?” His words landed with a bite, sharp enough to make me flinch.

“I also maybe lied that I was your nutritionist, saying they’d need my help if anything happened so… that’s how I ended up overhearing the nurse telling your coach about your condition.” My lips thinned at the awkwardness of the situation.

I stayed quiet, waiting for him to say something—anything, but he just stood there, staring down at me. His silence was worse than any kind of outburst, and I couldn’t even meet his gaze without feeling completely nervous and terrified so I did the only thing I could.

I rambled.

“At first I followed you because I wanted to apologize for what happened backstage and tell you how big of a fan I was, but then I saw how terrible your condition was. And I couldn’t help but feel guilty because of how I said you would lose and all.” I clasped my hands behind me, suddenly feeling like a kid caught red-handed, unsure if I should keep talking or just shut up before I made things worse.

“I’m really, really, sorry about what happened that night. I mean I would totally understand if you just leave me here. Even I wouldn’t help me if I’d said such horrible things to—”

“God can you shut up for one second?” He snapped, raising his head like I was giving him a headache.

“Oh… ok. I’ll… do that.” My voice dipped lower with each word, barely above a whisper by the end.

He then exhaled hard, muttering something under his breath. I could feel his eyes on me, heavy and unrelenting, yet I didn’t dare meet them, then after what felt like a really long time I heard him ask begrudgingly, “What’s wrong with your car?”

I opened my mouth to answer, not sure if I should speak as he told me to shut up, but then I realized that he wouldn’t have asked me a question if he didn’t want to hear me speak right?

So I just went with a short and simple answer. “I don’t know. It just gave up on me.” I added when he raised a brow.

His brows furrowed like he couldn’t believe the words that just left my mouth. “Gave up on you? What the hell does that even mean? Cars don’t just ‘give up’.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks as my gaze flicked up to his and then away. “Well, it stopped moving didn’t it? That sounds like giving to me.”

A dry humorless laugh left him. “Unbelievable.” He shook his head, before walking to where my car had stopped. I’d managed to move it just enough to the side before it completely died, so it wasn’t blocking the road for others.

I followed a step behind, my shoes crunching softly against the pavement. He crouched by the hood with this practiced ease, sleeves tugged back just enough to show his wristwatch.

I let my gaze drift over him again, just like I had, earlier taking in his whole fit. The Caveman was in a suit. A full-on tailored suit.

So… he had a life besides fighting and breaking skulls in the underground arena? Was that why he didn’t seem bothered about coming back? Had he quit fighting?

I let the thought settle as I hugged my arms, watching the sharp lines of his suit caught under the dim streetlight, his jaw set in the same infuriatingly unbothered way. He twisted the key in the ignition, listening as the engine coughed pathetically.

He then checked under the hood again for all of five seconds before straightening with a sharp laugh. “Loose alternator belt. Dead battery. That’s why it died on you.” He glanced at me then, mocking me with the exact words I’d used.

“Honestly, it’s basic stuff. If you’d been paying the slightest bit of attention to your vehicle like everyone does, you would’ve heard it squealing for weeks.”

I blinked, stunned by his tone. “Uh—well, sorry for not being fluent in Car Language.”

His lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Well that’s definitely not my problem.”

And then—he shut the hood, wiped his hands on his suit pants, and turned on his heel. Heading for his own car like that was it.

My jaw dropped. “Wait—that’s it? You’re leaving?”

“Yeah?” He turned, lifting a brow. “I’ve told you the problem with your car. Fix it.”

I stiffened, taken aback by his words. The hell? Was he actually this heartless?

“Wha—you know I can’t ‘fix it’.” I drawled with air quotes. “I thought you were going to help me.” My brows furrowed in disbelief.

“Fix it?” he scoffed, a low chuckle rumbling out as if I’d just told the funniest joke ever. “Now why the fuck would I do that?”

My stomach dropped, heat rushing to my cheeks as I gawked at him. “I thought you said you would ‘totally understand if I just left you here’?” His voice dripped with disdain and for a second, I couldn’t even breathe, the sting of his words slicing deeper than I could even admit.

“Wh—I was only joking and trying to show how remorseful I felt for saying those things. I didn’t actually mean it. So… you’re just going to leave me here?”

“Why not?” His tone was flat, almost bored, like my presence—or lack of it—made no difference. “You lied against me, stalked me into a hospital, ran your fucking mouth backstage, and now you expect me to play mechanic?” My chest tightened, the harshness of his tone knocking the breath right out of me.

“I don’t owe you a damn thing.” And that was all he said, before turning and making his way to his car.

Seeing he was actually leaving, I scrambled after him, my footsteps sharp against the gravel. “You can’t be serious—”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” His hand was already on his car door. “If you can’t fix it yourself, call a tow truck, call a friend, I don’t care. Figure it out.”

I stopped in my tracks, frozen, staring at the Caveman with his hand on his car door like he couldn’t even get away from me fast enough. My lips parted, but no words came. The night air pressed in heavy, crickets filling the silence, as I realized he truly meant what he was saying.

He was going to leave me here.