His voice was soft, too close, and my feet stopped as if they had a mind of their own. Lucy and Zeynep kept going, talking over each other about going to see Oliver. I told myself I should follow them.
I didn’t.
Chain slowed to a stop beside me, one hand hooked in the pocket of his jeans, looking like he hadn’t slept enough and still somehow still looked sexier than any man I’d ever seen. His hair was still a little damp from his shower, and his cut hung open over a fitted tee that didn’t need to be that fitted.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at me.
There was something gleaming in his eyes, something that always made me want to look away and never look away at the same time.
“You got a minute?” he asked.
My heart did a strange little drop. “Sure.”
He nodded once, like he’d expected me to say yes. “Good. Walk with me.”
I followed him toward the back door, nerves sparking under my skin. The morning air hit warm against my face as we stepped outside, sunlight catching on the chrome of the bikes lined up in the lot. Chain stopped beside a big truck at the end of the row—black, older model, clean but used the way a man used something he trusted.
He rested a hand on the hood, turning to face me again.
“So,” he said, looking at me closely, “I’ve been thinkin’.”
Chain thinking was almost always dangerous I’d come to learn. “About what?”
“You.” Then, with a tiny lift of his chin— “Driving.”
I blinked at him, confused for half a breath before the pieces fell together. Chain watched my face like he could see the moment it clicked.
“You ever learn?” he asked.
“No.” The word came out softer than I meant it to. “I was never allowed.”
His jaw flexed once, quiet anger, the kind he kept on a short leash. “Figured.”
I swallowed, fingers curling against my hips. “Why are you asking?”
“Freedom,” he said simply. “You need it. More than most. And bein’ able to drive—” his gaze held mine with something warm and certain “—that’ll give you a piece of it back.”
I didn’t breathe for a moment.
I’d never been inside a truck before, not one that wasn’t driven by a Shepherd, not one that didn’t mean fear or punishment or being carried somewhere I didn’t choose. Driving had always been something other people did. Something I watched through windows.
Something impossible.
But the idea of sitting in a driver’s seat—myhands on the wheel,myfoot on the gas,mychoice where to go—something inside me cracked open. Light and loud and terrifying and hopeful all at once.
“You want to teach me?” I asked quietly.
Chain’s mouth curved, not quite a smile, just enough to heat something in my chest. “Yeah, Lark. I do. If you want it.”
If I want it.
I looked at the truck. At Chain. At the stretch of open road beyond the gates. And the answer was already beating hard beneath my ribs. “Yes.” It came out on a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “I… I want that.”
His eyes softened, and a look of relief crossed his features. “Good. We’ll start today.”
“Today?” The excitement hit fast, bright, almost dizzying. “Really?”
“Really,” he said. “No reason to wait.”
