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CHAPTER 8

LAYLA TOOK A few steps forward again, and then stopped and glanced at the car again. It still was following her. What was it doing? Why was it here? Waiting for her? The driver thinking of hitting her again? Wouldn’t it be so soon? Why was it in a hurry to run her over and send her to her grave? Was there a deadline? A wry smile shaped on her lips. She continued walking on the sidewalk. She was safe here, it failed to hurdle this type of obstacle the last time, unless the driver of the car would be crazy enough to climb it so they could hit her—and hitting her meant hitting also other people as she wasn’t alone on the sidewalk. No one could be that crazy, the backlash over it would be insanely intense.

When she looked back at the car, she saw it pulling over at the opposite side of the road. She stopped walking and just stared, as if hypnotized, at the car. Her heart almost skipped a beat when she saw one of its doors opening. She found herself gulping when she saw a tall man in bla
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