Chapter 42
The engine’s soft hum was the loudest sound in the car, a poor backdrop for the sudden, crushing weight of their silence. The conversation, if it could even be called that, had been abruptly strangled by Sarah’s plea.
Carter stared blankly through the windshield, the streetlights blurring into streaks of gold. He was blindsided entirely—not just by the desire Sarah had voiced, but by its ferocious intensity. "Turn me," she had said, the words echoing in the confined space like a gunshot. His throat was suddenly dry, his tongue heavy. He couldn't answer because a war was raging inside him. It wasn't about wanting to; it was about the terrifying, agonizing question of capability and the sheer moral burden of the choice.
Could he do it? Carter didn't have the personal memory of
