QUINN
The car didn’t feel like a car anymore. It felt like a cage.
And all of a sudden, the freedom I thought I had wasn’t just gone; it never existed.
I didn’t shift in my seat, didn’t let my breathing change or allow my eyes to linger too long on the phone screen.
I just quietly observed Xavier, but at the same time watched the road, the pauses and the turns.
Because I knew I was no longer safe with him, and I had to watch where I was taken to.
The driver didn’t speak or react. He focused and drove, just like Xavier. His hands were steady on the wheel, and his gaze not shifting off the road.
Even when Xavier and I spoke, he didn’t shift. But I knew he was monitoring. I saw his ears; they were widely open.
My gaze drifted back to the dashboard.
The infinity sign.
It still sat th
