Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
The road stretches out before us, endless and uncertain.
Bria drives with one hand lazily gripping the wheel, the other drumming a rhythm against the door in time with the low hum of music playing through the car speakers. The city is far behind us now, swallowed by distance, by the choice I made to leave it all behind.
I don’t look back.
Not at the skyline, not at the world we’re leaving behind, not at the life I just detonated with one reckless decision.
Instead, I stare ahead at the empty highway stretching into the unknown, trying to tell myself this is freedom.
It doesn’t feel like it.
It feels like freefall.
Once Bria and I figure things out, maybe we’ll come up with a plan that will finally make both of our families listen to us. For once.
I grip my phone in my lap, fingers tight around the last connection I have to the world I left. It vibrates against my palm, the screen lighting up with a name that twists something deep in my gut.
Sin.
My stomach clenches. I shouldn’t answer. I can’t answer.
Bria glances at me out of the corner of her eye, her fingers tightening around the wheel. She sees the name. Sees the hesitation on my face. “If we keep giving in, we’ll stay on this carousel.” She plucks the phone from my grip and rolls down the window.
“Bria.”
“Say goodbye, Magnolia.” She grins, wicked and bright against the blur of gray highway.
The wind whips into the car, loud and merciless. My heart thrums against my ribs.
I suck in a sharp breath, watching as she dangles the phone over the open road.
Then, without letting myself think, without letting myself hesitate, I grab it and throw it myself.
The phone vanishes into the roadside, swallowed by leaves, by distance, by the roaring sound of my own heartbeat.
A part of me goes with it.
Bria lets out a low whistle. “Damn. You didn’t even hesitate.”
I sink back into the seat, my chest aching. “What’s the point?”
She nods, then grins as she pulls a tiny black flip phone from her bag. “Here. Welcome to the off-grid lifestyle.”
I take it, staring down at the cheap plastic. “You came prepared,” I murmur.
Bria shrugs. “You forget who you’re running away with?”
I huff out a laugh. “No. And that’s what worries me.”
“Smart girl.”
For a while, we just drive.
The roads blur into open stretches of nothing, the scenery shifting from concrete to farmland to tree-shadowed highways that all look the same. The further we go, the more I feel the weight easing off my shoulders, like I can finally exist without waiting for the next blow to land.
But the thing about weight is, even when it’s gone, you still feel the ghost of it.
That bullet was left for me, only me, so I don’t worry for Sin or Cameron’s safety. They’re only a danger to each other right now.
Bria cranks the music up, flipping through stations until she finds something tolerable. “How far south are we going?”
I pull a folded piece of paper from my bag, my thumb smoothing the crease. “Margo Finley.”
Bria snorts. “And who the hell is that?”
“She’s… my cousin. Apparently. I found her name in my orphanage records.”
Bria raises a brow. “And you think she’s just going to welcome us with open arms?”
“I don’t even know if she knows I exist. I insert it on the fancy display, “We’re going to be in the car for a while.”
She hums, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “So let me get this straight. We’re driving toward some random cousin’s house, banking on the fact that she’s real and not a serial killer?”
I sigh. “That’s the plan.”
Bria grins. “Best plan we’ve ever had.”
We stop at a gas station somewhere in the middle of nowhere, the neon lights buzzing overhead, flickering like they might give out any second.
Bria groans as she stretches. “God, I swear my ass is permanently numb.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You should have let me drive longer, then you could stretch out again.” She only let me take a five hour stretch of road.
“You drive like a grandma.”
I roll my eyes and grab my wallet. “Come on, let’s grab food.”
The gas station is nearly empty, just a guy behind the counter who looks half-asleep. The overhead speakers crackle with some old country song, the kind that makes you want to sit on a porch and regret your life choices.
Bria beelines for the snack aisle, arms filling with bags of chips. “We’re getting road trip snacks. Non-negotiable.”
I grab a pack of Twizzlers and a bottled water. “This isn’t a vacation.”
She gasps. “Excuse me? Every road trip is a vacation if you try hard enough.”
I shake my head, amused. “You’re an idiot.”
She grins. “But I’m your idiot.”
As we head to the counter, Bria suddenly grabs my arm, her entire body going rigid. “Don’t look now, but we’ve got company.”
My heart stutters. “What?”
“Shit, okay, yeah. Look now.”
I whip my head around, bracing for one of Caputo’s men.
Instead, I see a guy in a raccoon onesie.
He’s holding a Slurpee, staring at us like we’re the weird ones.
Bria stares. “Dude.”
He slurps loudly. “Sup.”
Bria blinks, then bursts out laughing. “I thought you were a hitman.”
He lifts his cup. “Nah. Just getting my blue raspberry fix.”
I shake my head, exhaling. “Jesus Christ.”
Bria slaps cash on the counter. “Let’s go before I start thinking about how much of a disaster this trip is.”
I grab the bags, following her out. “You mean you weren’t already?”
She smirks. “Shut up.”
Back on the road, the sun sinks behind us, trading brightness for shadows. The sky stretches out, wide and endless, until the stars bloom overhead. Clear, sharp, unburdened by city lights.