He Didn’t Kidnap Me. Not Exactly novel Chapter 205

Chapter 205

(Daisy’s POV)

I kept staring at my phone long after the call ended.

The screen had already gone black, my reflection faintly visible against the glass, yet I continued looking at it as though another answer might suddenly appear if I waited long enough. Instead, all I saw was myself looking back, quieter than I had been a few minutes ago and somehow more uncertain.

Eventually, I lowered the phone into my lap and let out a slow breath.

I had sent Aria my gps location coordinates since I didn’t know the address of the place.

The realization should have frightened me after everything DeLuca had shown me, yet it didn’t.

Not completely.

If anything, what unsettled me wasn’t the decision itself but the strange feeling lingering in my chest afterward. It wasn’t fear exactly, nor was it regret. It was simply… tension. An uncomfortable awareness that refused to explain itself no matter how many times I examined it.

I frowned at the thought before shaking my head.

“No.”

The word escaped quietly into the empty apartment.

Fear had a funny way of ruining perfectly normal things. After everything that had happened over the last few days, perhaps this was simply my mind refusing to relax. A person could only survive so much chaos before beginning to suspect it around every corner.

I had been kidnapped.

Confessed to.

Shot.

Caught in a hospital attack.

Forced to watch DeLuca lose the empire that should have been his.

If all of that didn’t leave someone a little paranoid, then perhaps they weren’t paying enough attention.

That had to be it.

Because this was Aria.

The same Aria who had laughed with me until my stomach hurt, who had visited me in the hospital despite everything happening around us, and who had never once given me a reason-at least personally-to believe she wished me harm.

The photograph DeLuca had shown me still refused to fit beside the girl I knew.

Somewhere, something wasn’t adding up.

It had to be.

Satisfied with that conclusion, or at least satisfied enough to stop arguing with myself, I pushed both hands against the couch and

carefully stood. The movement immediately reminded my abdomen that recovering from a gunshot was still very much an ongoing

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