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I opened the driver’s side door. “Goodbye, Stephan.”

Stephan took a step away from the car. He couldn’t say goodbye back to me—the same way I hadn’t been able to tell him I loved him, once upon a time. The moment I had, everything fell apart.

In the passenger seat, Dylan had his headphones on and his forehead pressed to the window. I turned the car on and backed out of the driveway.

Dylan stared out the window at the big house as we drove away. I kept my eyes on the road. I didn’t want to see Stephan inthe mirror. My heart was breaking because I knew I was hurting him and hurting my son.

But I had to keep Dylan safe. I had to keep my heart safe.

We drove. The sun set as we headed south on the quiet two-lane highway. My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I didn’t cry. I wouldn’t. Not until I was home in Atlanta. I’d keep it together for my son until then.

After an hour, the last of the buildings had melted away, and we drove through thick woods on a curving, narrow highway. There were no streetlights, and no other cars around. In another hour or two, we’d be in Syracuse.

“Mom?” Dylan asked. “Who’s that?”

“Who?” I glanced in the rearview mirror.

A truck pulled out of a narrow dirt road and onto the highway behind us. It was big, with tinted windows and a front grill splattered in mud… Mud, or something else.

My stomach dropped. I squinted in the mirror, but I couldn’t see through the truck’s dark windshield.

“Are they trying to pass us?” Dylan asked.

“Is your seatbelt on?” I asked.

“Duh,” Dylan said. “Why? What’s happening?”

The truck’s engine roared as it lurched forward and flashed its headlights, burning my eyes through the mirror. Dylan yelped in surprise. I gunned it and sped up. The narrow highway had sharp curves, and I struggled to keep up speed with the truck on our ass the entire time.

“Mom, make it stop!”

“Shit,” I muttered. This was giving me flashbacks—was Blakely after me again? But that wasn’t her truck.

The engine roared again. The truck bumped the back of my sedan and the whole car rattled. Dylan shouted, and I flung my arm out to hold him in place. The truck honked loud enough to rattle my eardrums. It revved its engine, then gunned up andaround my car so it was racing up the wrong side of the road. For a moment, I thought we might get lucky. I thought this might be a psycho in a hurry, looking to get around us and be on his way.

But no.

The truck veered to the left and slammed into the sedan. Dylan and I screamed as the car skidded off the road and the shoulder, over the grass, and then slammed into a tree. The airbags exploded, and for a moment I sat back in a daze, head pounding, as the airbag slowly deflated. Smoke poured from the engine.

“Dylan! Dylan, honey, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Dylan mumbled. He rubbed his forehead. “I lost my headphones…”

“Okay, that’s okay!” I was right on the edge of hysterics. I grabbed my phone, still mercifully in the cupholder between us, and fumbled with the screen. Had to call the cops. Had to get out of here.

Then the door was flung open. A strong arm grabbed me and a knife sliced through my seatbelt. At the same time, the passenger door was ripped open as well, and Dylan screamed as someone dragged him out of the car. “Mom! Mom!”

“Dylan!”

My arms were wrenched behind my back as I was dragged backward, away from the car, and back toward the big black truck. I didn’t recognize the man who was dragging me, nor the man who was pulling Dylan. Both were tall and barrel-chested, with scarred faces and arms. “Let me go!” I howled, twisting furiously in the man’s grasp. “Don’t you dare hurt my son!”

The truck door swung open. “I’d never do something like that.”

A man stepped out. Heavy boots. Stained jeans. Broad shoulders. A scar across his eye.

A familiar face. A face that made my heart swoop with grief and terror.

Sean.