His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 229: Olive's Pov

His eyes scanned every inch of my face with an intensity that hurt, checking for injuries, for blood, for any sign that I was lying about being okay.

"I'm so sorry," he said quietly. "About Elena. About what you saw. I know this isn't the right time but I need you to know—nothing happened. She stumbled and I caught her. That's all it was. Nothing more."

"This really isn't the right time," I managed.

He nodded.

"You're right. Okay. Tell me what happened. From the beginning."

So I told him.

About leaving the park.

About heading home.

About the Range Rover running the red light at full speed aimed directly at me.

About reversing without thinking.

About the crash.

His expression grew darker with every word, his jaw setting into that hard line I recognized as barely controlled rage.

And then, because I had to know his reaction, because I needed to see his face when I said it—

"I saw Alonso."

Zane went completely still.

Every muscle in his body locked up.

"What?"

"Alonso," I repeated, watching him carefully. "The man from Hunter’s celebration party. He was here. Standing on the corner about fifty feet away. Just... watching. Watching the whole thing."

Something flickered across Zane's face.

Something dark and dangerous and quickly buried, but not before I saw it—fear, maybe, or guilt, or both.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled now. "It was dark. You were in shock. Sometimes in situations like that, people see—"

"I'm sure," I interrupted. "I know what I saw, Zane. It was him. He was standing there staring directly at me. And when I looked away for one second, he disappeared."

Zane's jaw clenched.

Actually clenched so hard I could see the muscle jumping under his skin.

"You're absolutely certain it was him?"

"Yes," I said firmly. "The same man I met at Grayson’s house. And also had a match with, and you were so jealous of. Alonso. It was definitely him."

For a long moment Zane didn't say anything.

Just stood there processing, his expression cycling through emotions too quickly for me to track which was actually very surprising.

"Zane," I said slowly. "Who is he? Really? And don't tell me he's nobody important, because your face is saying otherwise."

"It's nothing you need to worry about," he said.

A lie.

I could hear it in his voice.

See it in the way he wouldn't quite meet my eyes.

"Someone just tried to run me off the road," I said. "And the first person I see watching from the shadows is someone you are jealous of and something told me you know him. So either this is the worst coincidence in history, or you know exactly why he was there."

"I don't know why he was there," Zane said, and that at least sounded true. "But I'm going to find out. I promise you, I will figure out what's happening."

"Is he dangerous?" I asked. "Should I be scared of him?"

Zane was quiet for too long.

"I don't know," he finally admitted.

And that was somehow more terrifying than anything else he could have said.

Because it meant he didn't trust Alonso.

Didn't know what he was capable of.

Couldn't promise me I was safe.

"Come on," Zane said, taking my hand. "Let me get you home."

"My car—"

"I'll have someone deal with it tomorrow," he said. "Right now you need to get away from here."

He was right.

I needed to leave before the police started taking statements, before they asked questions I didn't want to answer, before I had to explain that someone had tried to kill me and I had no idea why.

Zane guided me to his car.

Opened the passenger door.

Waited until I was settled before closing it gently and moving around to the driver's side.

As we pulled away from the scene—from the flashing lights and the wreckage and the corner where Alonso had been watching—I stared out the window and tried to process what had just happened.

Someone had tried to hurt me.

Maybe kill me.

And Zane knew more than he was saying.

Which meant I was going to have to find the answers myself.

Even if it scared me.

Even if it was dangerous.

Even if I wasn't ready for what I might discover.

Because whatever was happening, whatever Zane was hiding, whatever connection existed between him and Alonso and that black Range Rover—

I needed to know the truth.

Before it was too late.

And I didn’t need to be told twice, or perhaps I needed to investigate more.

Who the hell was Alonso?