Isabella’s POV
The van rattled down the highway, its worn suspension groaning with every bump. Oracle’s face was bathed in the glow of her laptop as her fingers danced across the keyboard. Her expression was sharp, focused, the chaos we had escaped seemingly forgotten in the moment.
Beside her, Alex’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles pale against the leather. His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror every few seconds, scanning the road behind us for signs of pursuit.
I sat in the back, staring at the stained fabric of the van’s floor. Derek’s blood was still fresh in my mind, the memory of his lifeless body like a knife twisting in my chest. My hands trembled, and I clenched them into fists, trying to steady myself.
“We’re clear for now,” Alex said, his voice taut
