The tires shrieked against the wet asphalt as Adrian wrestled the truck back under control. The guardrail flashed past in a blur, inches from the passenger door. My shoulder slammed against the window, pain jolting through me, but I barely noticed.
Because in the mirror, Daniel was still there.
His headlights glared like eyes, unblinking, relentless. The storm around us raged, but the real danger was behind the wheel of the black sedan bearing down on us with mechanical precision.
“Adrian!” I cried, gripping the dashboard until my knuckles ached.
“I’ve got it,” he gritted out, though sweat ran down his temple despite the cold rain. His focus was absolute, his hands iron on the wheel.
Daniel swerved again, the sedan slamming into our bumper with bone-rattling force. The truck fishtaile
