The BMW reappeared on the horizon, deliberately slowing down on the highway. I could see them watching us in their rearview mirror, waiting.
"They're really going to cause trouble," Eamon muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
I leaned back in my seat. "Just drive normally. If they want to act like children, let them."
But as we approached, the BMW swerved across both lanes, forcing Eamon to slow to a crawl. This continued for several minutes – whenever Eamon tried to pass, they would block our path.
"These spoiled brats," Eamon hissed. "Should I call the highway patrol?"
I shook my head. After my humiliation from Dashiell, I wasn't in the mood for these petty games. "Pull over. I'll handle this."
Eamon shot me a concerned glance but guided the car to the shoulder. The BMW immediately followed suit, stopping about twenty feet ahead of us.
"Let me do the talking," I said, stepping out of the car.
