Fog had thickened when the Bentley crested the next hill. Trees rose like silent sentinels on both sides of the road, their autumn-imbued branches dripping water onto the windshield. Ethan turned on the wipers, the thwack-thwack rhythm matching the thump in his temples.
He had never felt comfortable with silence that was not his. And now the woman beside him emitted the kind of silence that was not empty—it was intentional.
She'd not uttered a word in twenty minutes.
Since he had pulled over to collect her on the roadside.
He'd expected questioning. Who are you? What are you doing out here? Where are we going? Instead, she'd folded her arms, leaned her head ever so slightly against the glass, and just. observed.
Occasionally she'd glance at her phone, rattle her head at the lack of si
