The hum of the road had finally gotten to me. Somewhere between the endless stretch of pine trees and Alaric humming low under his breath, my eyelids gave up the fight. The crash, the truck flipping, the ache still thudding faintly at the base of my skull—it all melted into the steady rhythm of the tires.
I must’ve drifted deep, because the next thing I felt was a hand on my shoulder.
“Wake up,” Alaric’s voice was quiet, almost careful.
My eyes fluttered open. The neon glow of a sign smeared across the windshield, and the scent of fried food and oil seeped into the car. A squat building with buzzing lights stood in the middle of nowhere, its gravel lot half-full of beat-up trucks.
“We’re here,” Alaric said.
I rubbed at my eyes, fighting the fog of sleep. He was already out of the car,
