The black SUV hummed low as it cruised through the still city, headlights slicing through the quiet haze of early morning. I sat in the back, bruised and breathless, my side aching from being thrown like a ragdoll. My brother sat beside me, stoic as ever, with Celeste cradled gently in his arms.
We weren’t alone—our driver, Elias, focused straight ahead behind the wheel, silent, sensing the tension but knowing better than to ask questions.
No one spoke. Not since the diner. Not since the word had been spoken like a curse and a prayer all at once.
Mate.
My brother hadn’t taken his eyes off Celeste since she passed out. Not when she shifted in his arms. Not when I whispered his name three times in a row. Not when we passed the river bend, the same one we used to race to as kids.
I looke
