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I should be angry. Should tell him that watching someone without their permission is creepy, invasive and exactly the kind of behavior I've been trying to escape.

Except he's not Cole.

Cole followed me to check up on me. To make sure I wasn't talking to other men. To remind me that I couldn't go anywhere without him knowing about it.

Gabriel followed me because he thought I might need help.

And I did.

God, I really did.

The tears come before I can stop them. Silent and hot. Streaming down my face and stinging the bruised skin of my cheek.

"He hit me," I say. Like saying it out loud will make it more understandable. More processable. "In the parking lot. He just… He hit me."

Gabriel's hands tighten on the wheel. "I know."

"He's never done that before. Not in public. He's always been so…” My voice cracks. "But tonight he didn't care. He was so angry he didn't even think about who might see."

"Good," Gabriel says.

I blink. "What?"

"Good that he got sloppy. Good that he stopped being careful. Because now you have proof. Now you have witnesses." He takes another turn. "Now you can walk away, and no one will question why."

Walk away.

Like it's that simple.

Like Cole will just let me disappear without consequences.

"You don't know him," I say. My voice is shaking. "Cole isn't the kind of man who gives up. He doesn't forgive. He doesn't forget. If I try to leave—"

"You are leaving," Gabriel interrupts. "You can't go back to him. You know that, right?"

I do know that.

Have known it since the moment I hit the ground. Since the moment I looked up at Cole standing over me and realized with perfect clarity that next time he might not stop at a slap.

Next time might be worse.

Next time might be the last time.

"I can't go back," I whisper. More to myself than to him. "I can't… I won't!"

"Then you won't." Gabriel's voice is firm. Final. "You're done with him."

"But it's still not that simple."

"It is exactly that simple." He glances at me again. Something fierce in his expression that wasn't there before. "You don't owe him an explanation. You don't owe him a conversation. You sure as hell don't owe him another chance to hurt you."

I want to believe him.

Want to believe it's possible to just walk away and never look back.

But I've tried leaving before. Three months ago, when the bruises first started appearing. Packed a bag. Made it as far as my parents’ house.

My mother took one look at me and asked what I'd done to upset Cole. She told me relationships required work. That I couldn't just run away every time things got difficult. That men like Cole, successful, stable, from a good family, didn't grow on trees.