51. Grounded
Mara
The SUV hummed along the dark highway, but the silence inside the car felt louder than any engine. I sat pressed against the passenger door, arms wrapped tightly around myself, staring out the window at nothing. My body still ached in strange ways; remnants of the drugs, the night with Zander, the way he had held me like I might disappear. Tears kept slipping down my cheeks no matter how many times I wiped them away. Marcus gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles had gone white. He hadn’t said a word since we left the house, our house: mine and Zander’s.
Every mile took me farther from him, and it felt like someone was ripping my heart out with each rotation of the tires.
“Marcus,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and cracked. “Please. Turn around.”
His jaw tight
