Silas
exhaled sharply, his pulse still hammering from the chase. The car's engine
hummed beneath his grip on the steering wheel, his mind racing through possible
escape routes. He hadn't expected company—especially not her.
Ayla
kept her hands tight around the leather strap of her purse, her body angled
slightly toward the door, as if ready to bolt at any second. Her sharp brown
eyes locked onto him, scanning his every move.
"What
the hell is going on?" Her voice was low but edged with tension.
Silas
licked his dry lips and shifted his grip on the wheel. "Look, I just need to
get out of here. I'll ditch the car soon, and you can be on your way."
Ayla
let out a humorless laugh. "You hijacked my car, and I'm just supposed to sit
here and wait?"
"More
or less." His tone was clipped, his mind still half-focused on the side mirror.
The streets blurred past, neon signs streaking against the wet pavement as he
took a sharp turn.
Ayla
caught the way his eyes flicked to the mirror. He's running from someone. That
much was clear. But the bigger question was—who?
"I'm
not some clueless bystander," she said, her voice steady now, calculated. "You
don't look like a car thief. And you don't act like some random street punk.
So, tell me—who are you?"
Silas
didn't answer right away. He was debating whether giving her anything was a
mistake. The less she knew, the better. But something about the way she watched
him made him uneasy. Too observant. Too smart.
He
sighed. "Let's just say I pissed off some very bad people."
Ayla
narrowed her eyes. "And you just happened to choose my car?"
"Wrong
place, wrong time." He tapped his fingers against the wheel. "Look, I'll pull
over in a few minutes, and you can go wherever you were headed. No harm done."
Ayla
didn't believe that for a second. If someone was after him, that meant she was
already involved, whether she wanted to be or not.
She
shifted slightly, reaching for her phone.
Silas
caught the movement. Damn it.
In
one swift motion, he snatched the phone from her hands and tossed it onto the
back seat. "Not a good idea."
Ayla's
frustration boiled over. "You asshole—"
"Trust
me, calling the cops won't end well for either of us," he cut in. "Just sit
tight."
A
tense silence filled the car.
Ayla
clenched her jaw, forcing herself to think. She had to get out of this
situation, but more importantly—she had to figure out who this guy was.
Because
something told her he wasn't just running.
He
was hiding something.
And
whatever it was, it might just be connected to her father's murder.