Sam's P.O.V.
The hum of the engine barely registers over the pounding of my heart. I clutch the seatbelt across my chest, my fingers trembling as I grip it like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. The sound of the sirens ahead blurs with my shallow breaths, and the world outside the window passes in streaks of light and shadow.
Jax’s hands grip the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles pale against the leather. He hasn’t said a word since we left the house, and I can’t bring myself to break the silence. Not when every second feels like it’s slipping through our fingers, carrying with it the hope that everything will be okay.
My mom sits stiffly in the back seat, her phone clutched in her hands as she mutters updates to someone on the other end. Her voice is low and strained, and
