C43 The Limo

The door to the car didn’t just shut. It sealed us into a soundproof cacoon of a suffocating tension. Outside, the headlights swept across the gravel of the McAllister estate as the car lunged forward, tearing away from the manor. Inside, the only sound was the wet, ragged rasp of Logan’s breathing.

He was unraveling in front of me.

His frame was jammed into the leather bench