The road hummed beneath the tires—hrrrrr—a steady, hypnotic sound that should have been calming. It wasn't. Every mile felt like borrowed time, like we were stealing space from something that would eventually catch up.
I stared out the window, watching the coastline unravel behind us—gray water, jagged cliffs, the town shrinking into a smudge of fog and regret.
"You okay?" Serafin asked quietly.
"No," I said immediately. "But I'm functioning."
"That's something."
I laughed once, sharp and humorless. "Is it?"
The car crested a slight hill, and for a brief moment the sea disappeared from view. The absence felt wrong, like losing sight of a threat you knew was still there.
"I keep waiting for it," I admitted.
"For what?"
"For the part where everything collapses," I said. "Where someone tells me I shouldn't have said anything. Where this all turns into a mistake."
Serafin tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "You didn't imagine what happened."
"I know," I said. "But knowing doesn't make it lighter."
A gust of wind rocked the car—WHUMP—and Serafin corrected smoothly, pulling us back into the lane.
"Pull over," I said suddenly.
He glanced at me. "What?"
"Just—pull over. Please."
He didn't argue. The overlook appeared ahead, gravel crunching under the tires as he eased the car off the road—crrrk—and shut off the engine. The sudden quiet was deafening.
Tick… tick… tick.
The engine cooled while the sea stretched endlessly below us, waves crashing against the rocks—CRASH… hiss… CRASH—indifferent to everything we'd just done.
I got out of the car, the wind biting through my jacket immediately. "I need air."
Serafin followed but gave me space, leaning against the hood.
"I said his name out loud," I said, staring at the water. "And somehow that feels heavier than remembering."
"Because it made it real," he replied. "To everyone."
"I don't want to be brave anymore," I whispered. "I just want this to stop."
Serafin's voice softened. "It won't stop just because you want it to."
"I know," I snapped, then immediately sighed. "Sorry."
He shook his head. "Don't apologize."
My phone buzzed—bzzzzt—loud in the open air.
Unknown Caller.
Of course.
I stared at the screen, then answered before I could second-guess myself. "What now?"
The voice came through clearer than before. No distortion. No static.
"You've caused a problem."
I laughed bitterly. "Funny. That's what murderers usually say when they get caught."
A pause. Then: "You don't understand what he was protecting."
"I understand exactly what he was protecting," I said. "Himself."
"He wasn't alone."
That sent a chill through me. "Neither am I."
Serafin watched me closely, reading my face.
"You think this ends with one arrest?" the voice continued. "You think justice is a switch you flipped?"
"No," I said. "I think it's a fire. And you're all standing too close."
The line went dead—click.
I lowered the phone slowly.
Serafin straightened. "What did they say?"
"That we're not done," I replied. "That he wasn't alone."
He nodded once, grim. "I expected that."
A vehicle approached behind us—VROOOOM—slowing as it neared the overlook. My muscles tensed instantly.
Serafin stepped slightly in front of me. "Relax."
The car pulled in anyway. A highway patrol cruiser.
"Shit," I muttered.
The officer stepped out—boots crunching on gravel—crunch, crunch—hand resting casually on his belt.
"Morning," he said. "Everything okay here?"
Serafin answered calmly. "Just taking a break."
The officer's gaze shifted to me. "You look shaken."
I forced a smile. "Long night."
He nodded like he understood more than he should. "Be careful on these roads. Weather's unpredictable."
"Thank you," Serafin said.
The officer lingered a second too long, then returned to his car and drove off—vrooom—disappearing down the highway.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Everyone's watching."
"Yes," Serafin said. "But they don't all know why."
We got back into the car, the engine roaring back to life—VROOOOM—and pulled back onto the road.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Somewhere they won't expect you to stop," he replied.
My phone buzzed again—bzzzzt—this time a text.
If you keep going, others will fall.
I stared at it. "They're threatening more people."
Serafin's jaw tightened. "That means they're scared."
"That doesn't make me feel better."
"It means you're effective."
The road narrowed ahead, trees closing in on both sides. The sky darkened slightly as clouds rolled overhead—rumble—distant thunder threatening.
I hugged myself, suddenly exhausted. "I didn't want to be a catalyst."
"You didn't choose to be," Serafin said. "You chose not to lie."
We drove in silence for several minutes, the weight of everything settling heavier with each mile.
Finally, I spoke. "If this gets worse—if people get hurt—"
"I won't let that happen," he said firmly.
"You can't promise that."
"No," he admitted. "But I can promise I won't walk away."
That scared me almost as much as being alone.
The road curved sharply ahead, and Serafin slowed—hiss—tires gripping wet pavement.
Just beyond the bend, something lay across the road.
Serafin cursed. "What the hell—"
We skidded to a stop—SCREECH—heart slamming into my throat.
In the middle of the road, illuminated by our headlights, was a single object.
A phone.
My phone.
The screen lit up on its own.
You should have stayed silent.
I stared at it, cold flooding my veins.
They weren't behind us anymore.
They were already ahead.