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Kyler
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My phone vibrates, and I snatch it from my pocket, seeing a missed call from Shiloh. Panic surges through me as I dial her number, my leg shaking with anxiety, the car’s speed feeling painfully inadequate.
The phone rings, but then suddenly goes dead. What the hell? I try again and this time it goes to voicemail, and I lose it. “Go faster!” I demand, my frustration boiling over as I glance at the driver, practically ordering him to disregard red lights and navigate through traffic like a man possessed.
“What’s wrong, man?” one of my friends in the car asks, concern etched on his face, and I tell him I can’t reach Shiloh after seeing a missed call from her. “We are almost there. Maybe her battery died, or she’s in a place with no signal. Don’t jump
