The road narrowed faster than I expected.
Tall trees closed in on both sides, their branches clawing at the sky, swallowing the moonlight. The headlights cut a thin, trembling tunnel ahead of me, and for the first time since I broke through the gates, fear finally caught up.
Not panic.
Calculation taking over.
Kingston wouldn’t come after me himself.
He never did his own dirty work.
My phone buzzed again.
They’ve split into two units. One ahead. One behind.
I swallowed hard.
“How do you know?” I whispered, though no one could hear me.
No reply.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and forced myself to breathe slowly. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The baby shifted slightly, a reminder of why I couldn’t afford mistakes.
Headlights flared in my rearview mirror.
