Hailey

The roar of the SUV’s engine was the only thing filling the silence as we tore through the streets of Paris. Evans was hunched over the steering wheel, his knuckles white, his jaw set in a line of iron. Beside him, the tablet on the dashboard flickered with red dots, marking the path David had taken. I sat in the back, squeezed between the leather door and Nancy. She wasn't leaning back. She was sitting on the very edge of the seat, her eyes fixed on the windshield.

"Faster, Evans," Nancy whispered. Her voice was thin, but it carried a strange, vibrating authority.

"I’m going as fast as I...