The Rain of Change

Serena:

Rain slicked across the windshield, each droplet catching the streetlights and scattering them into fractured halos. Matteo’s hands were steady on the wheel, but his jaw was tight, the muscle ticking every time we passed an alley too narrow, a shadow too still.

“Checkpoint’s not far,” he said.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag. “You think Luca’s already there?”

“If he’s not, he’ll be close.” Matteo’s eyes flicked to me, quick and sharp. “He won’t risk leaving you exposed.”

The way he said it—like I was something breakable—made me want to bite back. But before I could, a pair of headlights flared in the rearview.

“Don’t turn,” I warned.

“I wasn’t going to.”

The car behind us stayed too even in speed, too exact in its distance. My pulse spiked. “Umbra?”

Matteo didn’t answer—he was already downshifting, sliding the sedan through a wet curve. The headlights followed.

“Matteo—”

“Seatbelt. Now.”

I barely clicked the buckle before he cut the lights and veered hard down