The tense kind of quiet where everyone seems to be holding their breath.
I’m in the backseat, pressed between Bea and Lilia. Kym is in the passenger seat next to Liam, and she hasn’t said a word. Neither has Liam. And for once, they’re not bickering or throwing glances. They’re just… still.
The windows fog slightly from the chill outside, but I barely notice. The seatbelt feels too tight, my chest too heavy. It’s not the car, I know that. It’s something else.
Something in my gut is screaming. Crawling. I can’t explain it, but something is wrong.
Really wrong.
My leg is bouncing before I even realize it, a jittery rhythm pounding through my knee. Lilia notices, and without a word, she reaches across and gently slides her hand over mine. A soft squeeze.
I nod, grateful. But my eyes flick to the front.
Liam hasn’t said a word since the call. But his knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and his jaw keeps flexing like he’s biting something back.
What was it Christian had said again?
He’sstopped. That was the word.
Stopped.
But Kai isn’t the kind of person who stops. He breaks. He burns. But he doesn’t stop.
We take another sharp turn, and I brace myself against the back of the seat, eyes flicking outside again. Rows of houses,more rows of houses, and then something bright cuts through the night.
Smoke.
Fire.
“Holy shit,” Liam says under his breath, and Bea beside me slaps a hand over her mouth.
Wild, angry flames climb into the sky, licking up the side of a building, a house, and painting the smoke orange.
Liam doesn’t bother parking. The car jolts to a halt and we’re all out before the tires stop turning.
The air smells like burning rubber and scorched wood.
And blood.
Because it’s everywhere.
On the airbags of both cars. On the shattered glass. Smeared in dark smudges across metal and concrete. One car is wedged halfway into someone’s porch. The other is crumpled against a mailbox, its engine still steaming.
I can barely move. My legs don’t want to carry me, but I keep going.
Lilia stumbles to a stop beside me. “Oh my god…”
I look to Liam. His face is slack with shock. Pale. I don’t even think he’s blinking.
Then I see Christian, who seems to be in deep conversation with Sterling.
His jacket is half off, his shirt stained with smoke and something darker. His hands are shaking, pushing through his hair again and again.
“Christian!” Liam calls, and we all rush toward him.
Bea reaches him first. “What the hell happened?”
Christian opens his mouth, but no words come. Just a ragged breath. He shakes his head. Rubs his jaw. Swears quietly.
