Viv:
I leaned against the bumper of the car, thumb out, face painted with frustration, lips curved in something between helpless and honey-sweet. The hood hissed beside me, steam rising like a broken promise, it looked like the radiator gave out. It smelled like burnt metal and gasoline and regret.
It was past dawn, sky still half-asleep in dusky blue.
That’s when I saw them.
The black SUV.
Right on schedule.
Slowing down just enough to take the bait.
I shifted my weight and waved, pretending to look desperate and naive—like I hadn’t spent the last three hours cleaning my gun, planning this out, and rehearsing how this would all go down.
Passenger window rolled down. Two of them. Exactly what I expected.
“Car trouble?” one asked, smirking like he’d already undressed me in his head
