The car sliced through the night like a silver bullet, headlights carving a path through sheets of rain. The wipers beat a restless rhythm — thud, thud, thud — each swipe revealing more of the dark, winding road that Olivia hadn't asked for.
"Driver," she said, voice firmer now. "Where are we going?"
The man behind the wheel didn't turn. The low glow from the dashboard painted his face in ghostly green.
"Somewhere quieter, Detective. You've got too many questions, and I've got too many answers."
Her instincts screamed.
Her hand went for the gun hidden inside her coat.
He didn't even flinch.
Outside, the tires hissed against wet asphalt — the road bending not where she wanted, but exactly where he planned.
Cole, still scrolling through his phone in the backseat, groaned. "Uh, Liv, this doesn't look like Florence Central to me— unless central now means middle of nowhere."
The driver chuckled, low and deep. "Smart one."
That voice.
It wasn't new.
Olivia's pulse spiked.
