MAREN'S POV
I walked with a firm step toward the side street of the external cafeteria, feeling the weight of the books in my arms and the mark on my neck throbbing with a renewed intensity.
Upon reaching the corner, I looked up and arched an eyebrow, confused. I scanned the sidewalk looking for the tinted windows of Thorne’s truck or the metallic glint of one of his sports cars, but there was no sign of them.
In its place, right in front of me, there was only a small, dull green vehicle parked on the curb.
A dull green sedan, a casual Japanese model, well-maintained but definitely discreet.
It looked like the car of any student or a young professor just starting his career. I took out my phone, ready to write to Thorne to ask him where he was, when a shadow was projected over me.
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