Page 33

SKYE

T he tension in my chest didn’t ease, even as I drove farther from Fiona’s house. My fingers gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white as I glanced in the rearview mirror. Lily sat quietly in her car seat, clutching Bunny like it was her lifeline. At least she wasn’t about to lose it—unlike me.

Liam’s father’s words replayed in my mind on an endless loop, sharp and cutting.

I couldn’t shake how his smirk lingered, or the way his gaze seemed to peel away every layer of my composure as he remarked on Liam’s involvement with Lily.

“Doesn’t look much like you.” And if that wasn’t hurtful enough, I got the distinct impression that he thought I viewed Liam as a meal ticket by his veiled comments.

As I turned onto a quieter road, my thoughts were interrupted by the steady glow of headlights in the rearview mirror.

Hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my nerves stretched to the breaking point after meeting Liam’s dad.

I blinked them back, focusing on the road.

The last thing I wanted was to cry in front of Lily.

Not when I’d embarrassed myself enough by letting that man get to me.

The streetlights grew fewer as I turned onto my usual route home from school, hoping the drive would help clear my head.

But the ache in my chest only deepened. Liam had defended me.

That much was clear. He’d been firm, protective even.

But the fact that his father thought so little of me—or maybe so little of Liam—hurt more than I wanted to admit.

As I replayed the evening in my mind, the constant glare of headlights behind me began to tug at my attention. At first, I dismissed it as paranoia—just another car on the road. But as the miles passed, unease crept in.

I glanced in the rearview mirror again, checking on Lily. The bright headlights hurting my eyes. How long has that car been following me? Since I left Fiona’s house?

Something about the way the car hung back, just far enough to stay in view but not close enough to feel intentional, sent a chill crawling up my spine.

I inhaled deeply realizing how much darker it was with the trees looming overhead, their branches cutting shadows across the road. My heart skipped a beat. Plenty of people take this road—but where are they tonight?

I took a sharp left onto a narrower road, sure I would shake my shadow with this move. The dark trees pressed in from both sides. My pulse quickened as the headlights stayed behind me, unwavering. When I slowed, they slowed. When I sped up, they surged forward.

My grip on the wheel tightened. It’s just a coincidence. But deep down, I knew better. My breath hitched as I sped up more, despite the road’s winding curves. The car followed without hesitation.

“Okay,” I whispered, glancing at Lily in the mirror.

Her little head rested against her car seat, unaware of the danger. That steadied me. I couldn’t panic—not with her in the car.

The other vehicle surged forward, cutting around me with a roar of its engine then swerved sharply in front.

I slammed on the brakes, the tires skidding on roadside gravel.

Our car jerked sideways, the world tilting as we careened into the ditch.

The airbag deployed, slamming into me before it deflated.

The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth.

The world tilted, and for a moment, everything was silent—until Lily’s scream pierced the haze.

I blinked hard, trying to focus. The car was tilted awkwardly. I twisted to the side, my gaze frantically searching out Lily, but she was safe in her car seat, her bunny now on the floor.

“Lily,” I croaked, my voice trembling with my frantic need to get my daughter out of the car.

She cried, her tiny hands gripping her car seat straps, but she was safe. Fear fueled me as I unbuckled my seat belt.

Before I could reach for her, I heard it—the crunch of boots on gravel.

Every instinct screamed at me to get my daughter out, to run.

My door was yanked open. A sweet-smelling cloth covered my mouth.

I struggled, holding my breath for as long as possible after that first inhale, but it was no use.

My eyes fluttered closed, and the world went black.