"Hope so," I say finally. "He’s...different. Makes me feel something I thought was dead."
Ivan nods slowly. "I’ve seen it. The way he looks at you. But your life… blood, shadows, our mission today. You think he can handle it long-term?"
My grip tightens on the wheel.
"Part of me wonders,” I answer. “He’s innocent. A real artist. Littles like him need safety, not this." I pause, the words bitter. "But he’s tough. He survived the gallery, the bullshit,me. Still, if it's too much... I won't chain him.”
Ivan stares out the window. "He’s a Little, yeah. But an adult. His call. Don't decide for him.”
Wise words from a lone wolf. I let them sink in.
The road straightens, truly rural now… fields on one side, woods on the other, occasional farm lights dotting the dark.
No traffic. Peaceful, almost.
But deceptive.
I check the dash clock. "We're early,” I say. “Too early. Diner up ahead…coffee?"
Ivan pulls out his phone. "Pfft. One minute you’re pushing Alexander to go faster. And now you want a coffee. Hell, it’s a good idea. It’ll wake us up. I’ll message Alexander."
Ivan: Diner stop. 5 min ahead. Coffee.
Alexander: Copy.
The diner's neon sign flickers into view… 24/7, faded blue letters promising hot food and bottomless cups. There’s an empty lot except for a semi truck idling.
We approach the junction. A four-way stop, traffic lights hanging overhead. Alexander's SUV slows as the light flips yellow.
"Come on," I mutter. “Jeez.”
The light changes to red too fast—unnaturally quick.
Something's wrong.
My instinct screams to me.
I beep the horn—sharp, urgent—urging Alexander through.
He hesitates. Bad move.
An SUV barrels from the blind side—black, tinted windows, no lights. It slams into Alexander's driver side with a crunch of metal and shattering glass. His vehicle spins, tires screeching, crashes into the ditch.
"Ambush!" Ivan shouts, hand going for his gun. “Fucking ambush!”
I floor the accelerator but it’s too late.
Another SUV—from behind—rams us hard. The impact jars my teeth, deploys airbags with a bang. The world tilts. Metal screams. We spin, skid, and rock over upside down.
Everything is a fucking blur.
All I can hear is the sound of the engine, but it’s distant, the ringing in my ears making everything seem totally out of perspective.
I try to turn my head but my neck is stiff, almost nonresponsive as my body and brain feel utterly scrambled.
“Ivan…”
TEN YEARS EARLIER…
