JAYDEN

We almost fought over something as ridiculous as whose car to take. Gabriel with his smug tone insisting his rental was “more reliable,” me not about to sit behind his wheel like a damn passenger. In the end, neither of us gave in. Fine. We each drove our own, me trailing him through Vienna traffic like a shadow that refused to leave.

We cut through the city, across the Donaukanal Bridge, and farther east, the roads thinning into countryside. The farther we went, the less civilization clung to us. Asphalt gave way to winding lanes that clung to the mountainside, sharp bends forcing us to slow.

Hours bled into...