Snow sheets across the windshield like static—white noise, white fire, white warning.
Luna hasn’t spoken in minutes.
She only breathes… and even that sounds like pain she’s trying to hide.
I steal a glance at her.
Her head rests against the window, lashes trembling, jaw clenched to keep from wincing. Her fingers toy with the edge of the seatbelt—not fidgeting, but grounding herself, like she’s reminding her body she’s still here, still alive.
Still with me.
I grip the wheel harder.
Every streetlamp we pass paints her in gold, then shadow, then gold again—like she’s flickering between the girl I swore I’d protect and the woman who could destroy me with a single truth.
She finally whispers, “Where… where are we going, Adrian?”
Her voice is cracked ice.
I inhale slowly. “Someplace n
