32
I'd started the journey off counting through the passed seconds, but had grown bored at around seventeen minutes. Since then, we must have travelled at least double my count and then some.
The quiet in the back of the van only seemed to make the journey longer. Ethan still hadn't spoken a word. Hell, he hadn't even moved beyond the rocking of his body caused by turns and braking or pulling away.
The security truck slowed and made a turn, but didn't speed back up again. No further swerves told me we drove along a straight stretch—for one minute-twenty, by my count. A sway to the left, then another to the right bumped me against the side of the truck, before the vehicle righted itself again and finally stopped.
I held my breath for a few seconds, listening for other traffic—any signs
