“Sensitive,” one of them mutters.
The other drags on his cigarette, exhales into the stale air. Smoke curls and twists, stinging my eyes until they water. No one says Jacob’s name. No one needs to. He’s the ghost in the backseat with me, the one thing tethering me to the world.
And then— “Good girl. You came without so much as a scream.”
His words are low, deadly. And that voice. Jackson’s voice sends a shiver crawling through my core.
The car bumps over a pothole, jolting me forward. My knees scrape against vinyl. The gun digs harder into my ribs, and I hold my breath, waiting for the bang that doesn’t come.
The SUV settles back into a steady growl, chewing up the miles, carrying me further from Jacob with every heartbeat.
And still—no one talks.
Not like men. Not like humans. Just fragments. Laughter. Snorts. The kind of sounds wolves make before they eat.
My body feels wrong, too big and too small at once. My skin doesn’t fit anymore. I keep thinking if I just move, if I just shift an inch, I might slip out of myself altogether and leave this shell behind.
I press my forehead against the glass. Cold seeps into my skull,numbing. Outside there’s nothing—fields, trees, shadows layered over shadows. The world looks empty, like it’s already written me off.
But Jacob will come.
I whisper it in my head, over and over, timing the words with my breaths.
Jacob will come. Jacob will come. Jacob will come.
But the SUV doesn’t slow.
And Jackson doesn’t speak again.
The SUV rocks around a bend. My shoulder scrapes the door. My palms itch for Jacob’s grip, Jacob’s steadiness, Jacob’s voice telling me what to do.
Another drag of smoke. Another laugh. Then—Jackson finally speaks again.
“Funny thing,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I thought you’d put up a fight.”
Heat floods my face. My nails dig into the vinyl seat.
“But you just walked out,” he laughs, a deep, guttural sound.
The others snicker, low and evil.
“Don’t mistake her, boss” he says. “I bet she’s got claws.”
“I know,” Jackson replies, smooth as honey laced with glass. “But claws are nothing if they don’t draw blood.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. His words crawl over me, hot and cruel, seeping under my skin like poison.
“The sheriff’s not coming.”
I snap my head around before I can stop myself. His eyes catch mine—blue, bright, merciless. And he smiles.
“He’s already lost.” A pause. “You know what fascinates me, Summer?” he asks. “Choice. People always think they have one. Like you, back in that bathroom. Thought you were saving those girls.” He flicks the bud of his cigarette out of the window then turns back to look at me.
My chest locks tight. My pulse slams so hard it aches in my teeth.
He leans into me, taking up too much space. I don’t have to look to know his face is close. His breath touches the side of my neck, hot and sour with smoke.
“But you didn’t save them. Did you?” His tone curls, almost gentle. “You just postponed it. The same way daddy’s death was postponed. It’s a shame your mother was there. I didn’t want her—not really. Too old to sell. Too ugly to fuck.”
