287 The Van Crash

(Winona)

The van’s interior feels like a cage. Cold metal presses against my back as I cling to Cass, who’s trembling next to me, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

Across from us, the man with the gun stares at us, silent and still.

Like a predator waiting to pounce.

I scan the guy, desperate to find any sign of the symbol Gus mentioned, something that would give me hope that he’s on our side.

But there’s nothing. No mark, no subtle hint of trustworthiness—just a cold, empty stare.

The air between us is heavy with fear and unspoken threats.

Cass grips my arm tighter, her knuckles white. I can feel the tension in her, the fear radiating off her in waves. I need to do something, say something, to keep her from falling apart completely.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest.

The man shifts, his eyes narrowing. “Shut up,” he snaps, his voice low and dangerous.

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm. This guy’s not going to tell us anything