The engine of Andrew’s Mercedes hummed, a low growl of impatience in the desolate rest stop. I pressed record on my phone, the tiny red icon a silent promise, and slipped it back into my pocket. Rain hung heavy in the air, a thick, metallic scent promising a deluge.
Get out,” he said, his voice flat, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as if I were already a memory. “You need a lesson, Amanda. Walking home might teach you some respect.”
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