Mirabel’s POV

I hate late nights. I hate how the silence creeps in and makes every little sound feel like an omen. I grip the steering wheel tighter as I drive through the quiet road that leads out of the city. My phone buzzes on the seat beside me, but I don’t look down. Not when I have this nagging feeling crawling up the back of my neck like a warning.

Something’s wrong.

I glance at the rearview mirror. There it is again—that car. Black. Tinted. No headlights. It’s been behind me for the last ten minutes, and no matter how many turns I take, it doesn’t fall back. Doesn’t...