The ride home was quiet. Rain poured again, sliding down the windows in steady streaks. Maximus’ grip on the wheel was firm, his jaw tight as the headlights cut through the wet road. I watched him for a moment, then turned toward the window, staring at the blur of lights outside.
The silence weighed on me until I finally spoke. “Do you think they will come after me?”
His eyes shifted to me, sharp at first, then softening. “I will not let that happen.”
I didn’t answer. His words lingered in my chest, heavy but steady. My fingers twisted together, and I realized I was trembling.
I leaned back into my seat, heart racing, unsure of how to respond. I was grateful he was here, yet the reality of my situation pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe.
I still remember the message I found
