The first words he'd spoken in nearly an hour. Y/N didn't answer. Her reflection stared back at her from the wet glass—a ghost floating in the dark.

Then the truck lurched. Graham's foot slammed the brake. The seatbelt dug into Y/N's chest as the vehicle skidded to a stop, engine rumbling, wipers still scraping across the glass.

A boy. Rain plastered his dark hair to his forehead. His skin was so pale it almost glowed in the headlights. He wore all black—hoodie, jeans, boots—and he stood completely still, like he hadn't noticed the truck bearing down on him.

Lightning split the sky. For one blinding second, the boy's face was carved in white light. Sharp cheekbones. A jaw that looked like it had been drawn with a blade. Eyes so dark they seemed bottomless.