POV: Jane
The SUV tears through the night, eating up the highway as if it were outrunning a ghost.
Philadelphia begins to shrink in the side mirror. The Deluzo Tower; a monolith of glass, steel, and a thousand lies; dissolves into the creeping fog until it is nothing more than a smudge of ash in the distance. It is a memory I am already trying to bury.
Brian’s hand remains heavy on my knee. Hard. Hot. It isn't a gesture of comfort; it is a claim. Through the sharp, expensive scent of his cologne, I can still taste the copper tang of blood drying on my split lip.
"Stop looking back."
His voice is low and final. It is the kind of tone that doesn't need to shout to demand absolute obedience.
I turn my head away from the window. His profile looks as though it has been carved from granit
