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“Yea. Just checking the news. Nothing new.”
He nods, turning the wheel and pulling out of the car park.
Chapter 40
Marcus
There’s a few cars behind us as we leave town, headlights glowing like distant ghosts in the mirrors. One by one, they turn off, back into other neighbourhoods, towards pubs, homes, or wherever else people go on a Monday evening.
Eventually, there’s only one left, and it’s trailing a little too close for my liking.
I don’t say anything, trying not to jump to conclusions. We’re not on a private road yet, and the countryside up here is scattered with cottages and isolated homes. For all I know, it’s just someone that lives nearby. But my fingers tighten around the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.
The road winds darker the farther we get from town. The streetlights disappear. Shadows stretch long across the narrow lane like clawed arms reaching from the dense trees, twisting over the tarmac as if trying to snatch at the tyres.
I glance in the rear-view mirror again. The car is still there. Still keeping pace. Not too close. Not aggressive. Just… constant.
Lila shifts in her seat and turns her head toward me. I can feel her eyes on me before I even look. There’s tension in the air – thick and brittle.
She goes to speak, but I rest my hand on her knee.
“I know,” I say, keeping my voice deliberately steady despite the drumming of my heart. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping an eye on it.”
She nods slowly and turns forward again, but I hear her gulp. I see the way her hand tightens around her coat in her lap, her gaze locked firmly on the wing mirror, her jaw clenched so tight it hardens the soft profile of her face.
We’re coming up to the turnoff for the private lane that leads to the cottage. It’s not marked, just a barely there path that dips off the main road, hidden unless you know what you’re looking for.
I don’t signal or slow down like I usually would, and instead I keep driving straight, past the turn off. My heart thuds painfully as we sail past our sanctuary, committing to a game of cat and mouse.
The tension in the air is suffocating as we drive on for several minutes. It presses down on us, making the space within the car feel claustrophobic. Lila’s breath comes quick and shallow, her lips pressed into a thin line. My own lungs feel constricted, each breath deliberate, as if the simple act of inhaling might shatter our fragile composure.
Eventually, I notice the welcoming fluorescent glare of a petrol station at the side of the road. The blue and red sign flickers slightly, illuminating a gentle flurry of snowflakes drifting through the air.
I pull in, lining the car up with one of the bays, trying to make it look casual, routine. There’s an attendant inside the shop looking down at his phone, oblivious to our quiet panic.
A moment later, the car pulls in to the petrol station, but instead of pulling into one of the bays, it parks in one of the parking spots at theedge. It’s a grey Corsa, at least ten years old, with aftermarket alloys that gleam too brightly against the car’s weathered body.
Our eyes are locked on it, waiting to see if someone is going to get out, but no one does. The engine cuts off, but the car sits there, dark and menacing, like a predator waiting for the right moment.
I can feel my pulse in my throat, my mouth dry as sandpaper.
Maybe it’s just someone who’s lost, and they’ve stopped to check their phone.
The thought feels hollow, a desperate attempt at rationality.
We sit there for what must be several minutes, not daring to breathe, to disturb the silence. The digital clock on the dashboard ticks silently forward, each minute stretching impossibly long. Lila’s hand finds mine in the dark, her fingers ice-cold and trembling. I squeeze back, wishing I could offer her more than this small comfort.
A figure gets out of the car, his face entirely obscured by a large hood. The overhead lights cast his face in shadow, making him a silhouette as he walks into the station. I angle my neck to try to catch a glimpse of him, but I can’t see any detail of his face.
He pays at the till and walks out with an energy drink can, the bright green logo glinting under the harsh lights. He gets back in the car, starting it up and driving off, continuing in the same direction further on down the road, brake lights glowing red then fading into the distance like dying embers.
We simultaneously let out a deep breath as the red glow disappears into the darkness ahead, my hand resting on Lila’s leg. The tension drains from the car so suddenly, it leaves a vacuum, making me light-headed with relief.
“It’s okay,” I say. “We’re okay. It was nothing. Probably just someone lost.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything, her eyes fixed on the spot where the car vanished, as if expecting it to materialise again.
We sit for another couple of minutes before I finally start the car and pull onto the road, heading back towards the cottage. The headlights illuminate the gentle flurries of snow, softly coating the road with a fresh white powder.