Chapter 8

Syria’s POV

The vehicle eventually stopped. Violet and I were both still shaking from what had occurred. The recollection of those close calls earlier continued to replay in my mind.

I was fortunate, very fortunate, I was able to get out of the way of that speeding vehicle before it struck us.

We didn't talk much as we entered a restaurant close by. Inside, the atmosphere was cozy. We placed an order, sat down at a table near the window, and quietly settled in.

Outside, the street came alive. Cars drove by, their headlights shining. People strolled by, laughing and talking. It was a typical scene, but not for me.

My mind was not on the food or the people. It was fixated on the face of the man I had seen earlier in that car.

"Syria, are you hearing me?" Violet's voice snapped me out of my trance.

"Huh?" I blinked and faced her, catching myself for zoning out. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

She smiled small and worried at me. "I said, what are you going to do? You said you wanted to f