Benji’s sitting on the tailgate, nursing a beer, watching the sky turn black.
“You’re quiet,” he says finally.
“Just thinking.”
“About her?”
“Yeah.”I exhale slow, my hand tightening around the bottle.“Got a bad feeling, Benj.Can’t shake it.”
He studies me, jaw tight.“You think it’s the Heathens?”
“I don’t know.Maybe.Could be nothing.”
But we both know better.
The next morning, we load up early, hitting the road before sunrise.
The cab smells like coffee and dust, the kind of scent that usually feels like home—but not today.
Today, it feels like anxiety.
The closer we get to Dry Creek, the worse it gets.That crawling under my skin, that hum in my chest—it’s building.
Micah’s quiet beside me, eyes on the GPS, and Benji’s in the back seat, scrolling his phone when it happens.
The phone rings.
Once.Twice.
I glance in the mirror and see the way Benji’s face drains of color.
“What?”I bark.
He looks up, eyes wide.“It’s Angie.Something’s wrong.”
The world tilts.
The air in the cab goes razor-thin.
My hand tightens around the wheel, knuckles white.“Put it on speaker.”
Benji does.Angie’s voice bursts through the line, high and trembling.
“Sawyer—it’s Bit—something happened?—”
That’s all I need to hear.
“We’re coming, Angie.Tell me everything.”
I listen and I fucking floor it.
The tires scream against the asphalt, the truck fishtailing as I gun it toward home.
Because that bad feeling?
It wasn’t just in my head.
Chapter 31-Bit
