Relief hit me so hard it almost hurt.
I swiped to unlock it.
Blood from my forehead dripped down, smearing across the glass.
I wiped it away quickly with the heel of my hand, leaving faint red streaks behind.
Another drop fell—this time from a cut in my palm—landing on the screen like a mark.
The display glowed faintly in the darkness of the trunk.
And there—
Vincenzo’s name stared back at me.
My breath caught.
I pressed call.
Once.
No answer.
Twice.
Still nothing.
Three times.
Straight to voicemail.
“No...” I whispered, voice trembling, breaking apart in the dark. “No, no, no...”
The battery icon blinked at the top of the screen.
4%.
Panic tightened in my chest.
“No, please...”
I hit call again.
Nothing.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe as my hands shook.
“Vincenzo...”
The word came out broken.
“I know you hate me,” I whispered into the empty darkness, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I couldn’t say out loud, “but please... just answer.”
3%.
The battery dropped again.
I switched quickly to messages, my thumbs trembling as I typed as fast as I could in the dim light.
