The drive to Lucien’s house felt longer than it was. Rowan kept her eyes on the blurred trees beyond the window, her mind running in panicked loops that never closed. Every mile they put between themselves and the swamp made Maisie feel farther away. The rain tapped a cold rhythm on the roof while the wipers squeaked like whispers. She counted every beat just to keep her hands from shaking.
Lucien said nothing. He drove like a machine, eyes fixed on the empty road ahead, jaw tight enough to crack. More than once, Rowan caught him glancing at her in the reflection on the window, but he never spoke. She wondered if he was replaying every moment the way she was. Wondering what he had missed. What she had done wrong. How the hell they had ended up here, together but not together, united only
