The engine sound hits a second later, low and distant, carrying across the open land.
A vehicle.
No—a van.
Rolling slow, steady, like it knows exactly where it’s going.
“Expecting something?” I wonder, though no one’s near enough to hear me.
My gut tightens anyway.
Not curiosity.
Not interest.
Something darker.
The same feeling I used to get before a mission went sideways.
Before the first shot was fired.
Before everything went to hell.
I straighten, already moving without thinking, eyes locked on that rising cloud of dust as it creeps closer to the ranch.
“Yeah, whatever that is,” I mutter under my breath. “It ain’t good.”
Chapter 2-Esme
The road stretches out in front of me, long and winding, cutting through trees just starting to turn with early summer.
Not full-on summer yet, but there are hints of it if you know where to look—dark greens touched with budding leaves in pale chartreuse, the occasional branch already heavy with full leaves and growing fruit at the edges, sunlight flickering across my windshield in broken ribbons as I drive deeper into northern New Jersey.
It should be pretty.
It is pretty.
But I barely see any of it.
Because my mind?
My mind is stuck on him.
Benjamin Gunner.
Benji.
It always comes back to him.
It doesn’t matter how many miles I put between us, how many states I cross, how many quirky roadside diners or hand-painted fruit stands, or sunsets over gas station parking lots I film for my audience.
My brain is like a dog with an old bone where Benji is concerned.
It keeps circling back, chewing the same sore spot over and over until everything in me feels raw.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, my thumb tapping nervously against the worn leather wrap as the little blue dot on my map app inches closer to the flag I dropped.
Took me long enough to find him.
